Anything and Always
by Kayryn
Disclaimer: TGG belong to NBC, Susan Harris, Witt/Thomas/Harris Productions and the amazing ladies who portrayed them.
Rated: G
Summary: Blanche returns from a disastrous date and is in need of a friendly shoulder.
Author's Note: Though I've written my fair share of fanfics by now, this is my first ever TGG story. I'm hoping Blanche and Dorothy aren't too OCC. Takes place somewhere before season five's episode "An Illegitimate Concern".

Blanche fumbled with the keys, her hands still shaking. She was glad to be home, but hoped fervently that the girls were all asleep already; she didn't want to face them, not yet. Tomorrow was another day with a fresh start, but tonight she couldn't muster the bravado with which she usually dealt [with] unpleasant things. Oh, how her mother would be disappointed in her now.

Finally managing to open the door, Blanche entered the house quietly and, stepping out of her high heels, made her way to her bedroom without running into anyone. Finally in the safety of her room, and with the door closed securely, she allowed the tears to run free. Blanche crawled into bed, clothes and all. Grabbing the comforter which lay at the foot of the bed, she draped it over her shoulders and sobbed like she hadn't since George died. She'd never been so humiliated as tonight.

Blanche had first met Steven Harrison three weeks ago and within minutes she'd been asked out for dinner. This, of course, had come as no surprise to Blanche and she had been delighted to accept. The next weeks had gone by fast with Steven taking her out several times a week and she'd found herself quite smitten with the man. He was charming, smart and funny, and though not loaded, he definitely wasn't a pauper either. Things had progressed so well that the night before they'd had dinner at his home for the first time. Granted, by the end of the evening, Blanche had had a feeling that things weren't quite right, but she couldn't put her finger on it and had discarded it as a product of her overactive imagination.

If only… Well, there was no sense in going down that road. Things had changed drastically tonight and there really had been no way for Blanche to know what kind of a man Steven Harrison really was. Thinking back to what had happened only hours before, Blanche pressed her face against her pillow and cried.

So immersed she was in her pain and thoughts that she didn't even hear the soft knocking on her door. It was only when she heard a deep voice call her name that she realized she wasn't alone.

"Blanche, what's wrong?" Dorothy stood by the door with her hand on the handle and looking very concerned.

Horrified that anyone should see her in such a state, Blanche tried to wipe away her tears. Had Dorothy not been so worried about her friend, she would have pointed out that the action was completely futile as the smeared mascara around Blanche's eyes was a clear giveaway to her crying. Nonetheless, the southern upbringing in Blanche reared its head.

"Oh, I'm alright, Dorothy," she said, getting up and busying herself with arranging her little knick-knacks; anything to avoid eye contact with her friend. "You go back to sleep, honey. Don't wanna wake up the others," she said.

Not buying the act for a second, the taller woman closed the door behind her and took a few steps closer to the distressed woman.

"You're not alright, Blanche," she stated in firm but kind voice.

"Oh, I am. I'm just a little… Ah, I… I…" Words failed Blanche as she tried to stop herself from crying again.

Not needing more incentive, Dorothy closed the remaining distance between them and pulled the woman into her arms. At first she could feel Blanche tensing, but as she kept holding her, soothing her with softly spoken words, she could feel her slowly relaxing. Dorothy was worried; she had no idea what was wrong, and whatever it was, it had to be big as she'd never seen Blanche like this before. This was clearly beyond the healing powers of a cheesecake.

After a few minutes Blanche had calmed enough for Dorothy to step back a little, though she still kept her hands on the smaller woman's shoulders.

"Honey, why don't you go and wash up a little and then come back and we'll talk about it," she suggested.

Blanche was about to resist but when she raised her eyes to Dorothy's, she saw a familiar determination in there and knew it'd be wiser to just give in.

When she returned a few minutes later, Dorothy, who in the meantime had made herself at home leaning against the headboard of Blanche's bed, mentally nodded in approval. The puffiness and the redness around the eyes were still there, but at least the smeared make up and tear tracks were gone. Patting the empty space next to her, Dorothy silently invited Blanche to sit next to her.

Settling next to her best friend, with her back against the headboard as well, Blanche knew the moment Dorothy saw her bruised wrist.

"Blanche, what happened?" Dorothy asked, alarmed. When Blanche didn't answer right away, Dorothy drew her own conclusions. "Did Steven do this? Why? Did he hurt you elsewhere? Why would he do such a thing? Do you need to see a doctor?"

The flood of questions finally came to a halt when Blanche took one of Dorothy's flailing hands to her own.

"I'm alright, Dorothy. Yes, Steven caused the bruises, there are some on my upper arm and no I don't need to see a doctor," Blanche explained.

"I thought things were going great with him," Dorothy said, confused. "He seemed like a real gentleman. I mean, you said so yourself."

"I know I did," Blanche admitted. "Clearly this was one of the times I was sorely wrong. I never thought... I never saw… I… Oh, I don't know, Dorothy. I just don't know!"

"It's alright, honey. It's alright." The older woman opened her arms out as an invitation and after hesitating very briefly Blanche scooted closer, leaning her head against Dorothy's shoulder. With one arm around Blanche, Dorothy held one of her friend's hands in her own. "Why don't you start at the beginning? He came to pick you up and everything was fine. What happened then?"

Blanche took a moment to collect her thoughts before she began her story. "You know I saw him last night, went to his apartment and had dinner there. The whole time I thought something was off, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It wasn't anything he did or said… It wasn't anything specific.

"Tonight we went to this lovely little Spanish restaurant and everything seemed fine. I was a cautious at first, but Steven was polite and courteous so I just told myself to forget all about last night; that it had just been a figment of my overactive imagination."

Dorothy only nodded, encouraging Blanche to continue.

"But after the waiter brought our food, he told me he'd been disappointed by my actions last night. He said that we've been seeing each other long enough now for me to drop the act and start behaving like a woman should. I didn't understand what he meant and when I asked he scoffed, telling me not to pretend I didn't know exactly what he was talking about. He was raising his voice and I knew we were drawing looks from the other customers… I just wanted to leave, but I couldn't move. I couldn't believe he was acting like that…"

"Did he explain what he meant?" Dorothy asked when Blanche had grown silent.

"Apparently a woman is supposed to wait on a man, cater to his needs. He demanded to know when I would start acting like he expected me to. That I was supposed to do my very best to keep him happy and that last night at dinner he'd seen what my true colors were. He said he was disappointed in me."

"Oh, Blanche…" Dorothy didn't know what to say. The man she met and the man her friend was now describing seemed like total opposites. Yet they were the same.

"I was so horrified, Dorothy. I asked him to please stop, or to lower his voice but that only made him more furious. He said that a woman shouldn't tell a man what to do and he was appalled that George had never taught me that. Can you believe it, Dorothy? He dragged my George into it!" Blanche was nearly in tears again, unable to handle the thought of anyone accusing her husband of treating her badly.

Dorothy again relied on silence being the great communicator and merely gave Blanche's hand a gentle squeeze. She hated to see her friend hurting this way.

"That's when I finally got up and started to leave but then he grabbed my wrist," Blanche continued as she brought her wrist closer for her inspection. It was black and blue and it hurt like hell, but in about two weeks, it would fade away. If only she could forget her experience as easily. Sighing heavily, she recounted the rest of her evening, "I tried to pull free but he just held on stronger and told me to sit. That's when someone from another table told him stop and I managed to leave. He caught me before I could get out and to a taxi. He grabbed my arm and twisted me around. He'd raised his hand and I know he was going to hit me, but that's when someone, I think it was the same man who tried to stop him before, came and stopped him. I was so stunned. I could hear him yelling but I was so shocked I don't know what he said. I just got into a taxi and came home."

Now that Blanche had reached the end of her story Dorothy drew the woman even closer, offering whatever comfort she could. The older woman thanked God that Blanche had had her date in a restaurant and not somewhere where she would have been alone with the man. She didn't even want to consider what that could have resulted in.

While Dorothy was counting the blessings, Blanche, who was finally feeling safe again, was suddenly horrified at what she'd just revealed. She was not some weak woman who couldn't take care of herself, or crumbled at the first sight of a little adversity! But then she realized that she only felt better because she'd talked about what had happened. And who else could she confide in the way she could in Dorothy? Blanche loved Sophia dearly, but the woman had the sharpest tongue known to man and at times like these she couldn't brush away the comments that she usually took in stride. Of course there was Rose who, bless her soul, was the most kind-hearted person Blanche had ever met, but she would not have been up for a talk where the other party needed to have everything explained to them. That 'left' Dorothy. While the woman possessed a tongue almost as sharp as her mother's, at least she knew when not to use it and for this Blanche was ever so grateful. The woman provided her a shoulder to lean on, both figuratively and literally.

Blanche was fiddling with the strings of her nightgown and glanced up at Dorothy. There was something she'd been wondering about ever since leaving the restaurant. "When did it change? Lately I've met one lousy man after another. When did I become a magnet for detestable kind of men? Oh, I know none of them ever was as bad as Steven turned out to be, but if they aren't looking for a quick roll in the hay, then they are trying to spice up their lives away from the wife and kids. Or they want a mother. What am I doing wrong? Now I was brought up to be polite and I know I can be charming. But… What is wrong with me?"

"Oh, Blanche, there's nothing wrong with you. Absolutely nothing," Dorothy said, her voice carrying the conviction behind her words. "You're so brave to put yourself out there and go after what you want. Half the time I envy you for your optimistic way of looking at things. And even if I live to be a hundred, I'll never meet a woman as strong as you. You just forget sometimes that you don't need a man to make you special. You're a wonderful person in your own rights, Blanche."

Blanche was moved beyond words. She couldn't remember the last time she'd received compliments so heartfelt and touching.

"Will you stay with me tonight, Dorothy? Will you hold me for a while?"

"Of course I will."

As they started to drift off to sleep, Blanche on her side and Dorothy spooned behind her, Blanche gently squeezed the hand resting on her arm. "Thank you, Dorothy. You are one of a kind."

"Anything for you, Blanche. Always."

The end