A/N…This story is a little different for me, but I heard the song Independence Day by Martina McBride on the radio and inspiration took hold. I've always felt like there has to be an interesting and heartbreaking history within the Morelli family, well, this is my take on it.

I don't profit from the use of the characters; they all belong to JE.

There is a slight warning for some domestic violence, I promise it doesn't get graphic. Other than that it's clean.

I love to hear your thoughts on this one, since it's not my usual Babe fluff. Thanks for reading.

Independence Day was always a day of celebration in Chambersburg and this year was no different. I looked across the park at my family sitting around the blankets we had spread across the grass. I smiled at my husband as he peeled a banana for our youngest daughter. I was lucky. I had a good marriage and happy kids.

My brothers stood not far from the blankets, beers in their hands, looking so much like my daddy that something twisted in my gut. I glanced back at Angelina, my brother Anthony's wife. I wondered when the last time she looked happy was. I knew I hadn't seen her smile in years. I also wondered why he never seemed to notice that.

Maybe it was in the blood or maybe he learned his behavior from my daddy. I didn't think Anthony ever beat her. At least not that I knew about, but he was never faithful and never respectful. He was drunk a lot and spent all their money gambling, making her and the kids do without.

The poor kids. I glanced at my niece and nephews. They were always dirty no matter how many times Angelina changed their clothes. They were mean to the other kids, always fighting and getting in trouble. Just like my brothers when they were that age.

I wish Anthony was able to give his kids the happy family life they deserved, but what could I do about it? Nothing. It was too late. The damage had already been done, just like it had been too late to change things for Anthony when daddy died. He'd already made his impression on the boys.

I was the only one that was spared that. I was ignored or told I was in the way, then sent to my Grandma Bella's house for days at a time. I know now that was Mama's way of trying to protect me from daddy's fists, and it worked. I was only hit once. I had no idea how many times my brothers were hit, though I doubted it was as often as Mama was struck.

I glanced over at Mama and wondered if she was remembering him too. It was hard not to remember, today of all days. I slipped my hand into hers and squeezed it reassuringly. She turned her head and smiled at me. "I was looking at them," she said.

I knew she meant my brothers and I wondered if she saw the same things I did. "Me too."

"I should have done it sooner," she whispered.

I closed my eyes and was transported back to that day all those years ago, the summer I was just eight years old. Our family was supposed to go to the annual Fourth of July party that year too, but when I came downstairs in my new sundress, the one Grandma Bella sewed for me, Daddy was already drunk and Mama's eye was purple and puffed shut.

"Cathy, you go on ahead. Find your grandma and your brothers," Mama said, rushing me out the door. "I'll be along in a few minutes."

I nodded and ran off, knowing something wasn't right. A half hour later I heard all the sirens and I knew where they were headed. I took off at a run, Joey was right behind me, yelling that I was ruining his day by being a little brat. I didn't care. I knew Mama would need me.

We got to the house just behind the police officers. They held us back while the paramedics rushed into the house. It seemed like forever before Mama was brought out of the house, more bruised than ever before. Her lip was cut, her nose was bleeding, and her arm was hanging at an odd angle. The policeman still held us back, going as far as to put us into the backseat of his car before he went to check on our mother.

We waited forever, neither of us speaking. Then the coroner's van came and we knew he was gone. It was like a weight had been lifted off me. I was happy he couldn't hurt Mama anymore. I remember smiling and then laughing until I cried. The policeman finally came back to the car. He picked me up and patted Joey's back. "He's gone now," he told us. "He won't be hurting anyone anymore."

"What about our Mama?" Joey asked, knowing something I didn't at the time.

"She's going to the hospital," he told us. "Then she's going to come home and take good care of the two of you."

I was so happy that I hugged that man. Joe had smiled and shook his hand, thanking him. I didn't know why at the time, but now I do. Everyone there that day knew Daddy hadn't accidently fired his gun while he was drunk. They all knew Mama had pulled the trigger, but no one said a word. Daddy's death was considered an accident and we were taken to Grandma Bella's house while Mama was treated for her injuries.

After that people whispered about Mama, but no one blamed her. Not even Grandma Bella could blame her for taking her son's life. Instead they pretended it was an accident, just like the police had said it was. Mama, though, would never hear a bad word spoken by anyone, not even us kids, about Daddy. She wanted us to remember the good, not the ugly. I asked her once why she defended him. She said she was mourning the man she married, not the man her husband became and that was the man she wanted us to remember in our prayers.

Prayers became everything to Mama after that day. Maybe she was begging God's forgiveness for taking Daddy's life. I suppose all of us prayed for him because of her. Except Joe. He told me he wasn't about to pray for that piece of shit and he wasn't going to ask God for anything. If God was so great he would have saved Mama so she wouldn't have had to save herself.

After that day Joe had something new to believe in. That police officer who sheltered us, protected us from seeing the worst, and helped lie for mama became his hero. He took Joe to games and brought us gifts on holidays. He was always there looking out for us, until he was shot down on the job. That funeral was the first time Joe stepped back into the chapel. I think that was the day he swore he'd become a cop and real hero like Detective O'Neill.

"You saved me that day," I told her. "You saved us all."

She smiled and wiped a tear from her cheek. "You're happy?" I nodded yes as I looked back at my family. "I found a good man and we built the life we both wanted."

She nodded her head. "He is a fine man." We stood there, still watching our family. "I worry that the boys never learned how to be good men," Mama confided in me.

"They're not bad men, Mama," I reminded her. They both drank too much, had heavy fists, and loose morals, but they weren't bad men. I couldn't imagine either of them hurting a woman or a child the way Daddy had. They were far better men than that. "Anthony's not the best husband, but he doesn't abuse his family. And Joe's a cop, a good cop, and he'll be a great dad someday."

"But look at Angelina," Mama whispered sadly. "And look at Stephanie. Does she look happy?"

I'd already examined Anthony's family and dreaded a second look. So I looked at Stephanie, Joe's girlfriend. She sat on a blanket with their dog, staring out into space like she was dreaming of something else. She didn't look sad, exactly, but she didn't look happy either. No, she actually looked like she'd rather be anywhere but sitting there with all the kids running around her. She looked like she'd been given no choice but to come along.

It wasn't the first time I thought those things about Stephanie. She wasn't the type of woman that'd be happy sitting home with the kids while her husband worked. Stephanie had always been adventurous and full of moxie. As a kid that side of her sent her leaping off a roof, as a grown woman it translated into her work as a bounty hunter.

She'd be miserable if Joe took that away from her, and he would. There was no room for her adventures in the life he'd promised himself all those years ago. To be the best cop he'd have to focus on that, not on whatever crazy thing she had going on in her life. He needed someone who wanted the same things he did, or he'd squash her dreams beneath his own needs without even realizing it.

I could only imagine what Stephanie's life would be like in five years if they got married. She'd hate being tied down, being a mother, being a wife. She'd see it as losing herself, not fulfilling herself like I did. It'd beat her down as badly as Daddy's fists had beat Mama down. "No, she doesn't look happy to be here."

Mama squeezed my hand and walked away. She sat next to Stephanie. I don't know what she said, but Stephanie looked around and shook her head no. The next thing I knew she took off, almost running.

One year later

I sat on the family blanket, watching my kids chase my brother Joe's dog around the park. Joe stood in the distance smiling as he tossed a tennis ball back to my youngest daughter. It was nice to have him back in town. He took a job in Philly a few month ago and hasn't been home very often, but he seemed happy.

Happier than I'd ever seen him.

I figured the new town was a new start for him. No one there knew the Morelli family history or Joe's personal history. His new girlfriend sat on the blanket next to Mama, munching on some crackers while she watched Joe with the kids. "He's going to be a great daddy someday," she said dreamily.

Mama smiled at her. "I think he will," she answered. "He just needed someone who could bring out the best in him."

Mary Beth blushed prettily. "He is the best."

Mama patted her hand, before rising. I stood alongside her, knowing she wanted to take a walk. "May I walk with you?"

"Of course you can," she agreed.

We walked around a few other blankets full of families, not paying attention until I noticed Stephanie. She sat on a blanket with her co-workers Connie Rosolli and the black lady with crazy, pink hair. They had an assortment of food spread out before them and wine coolers in their hands, but the first thing that I had noticed was the huge smile on her face. She looked like a woman that had the life she really wanted and was happily living it.

"Stephanie looks happy," I said quietly.

"I'm glad," Mama said with a smile.

"Mama?" I asked.

"Hmm?"

I needed to know. "What did you say to her last year?"

Mama shook her head. "That doesn't matter now," she said with a smile. "The fireworks are going to start soon."

I nodded and returned to my family. As the fireworks exploded overhead my husband kissed my cheek. I took his hand in mine and smiled. My eyes wandered over to Joe who, snuggling his girlfriend in his lap, looked like he wasn't only happy, but in love. Then I glanced the other direction and leaned around my husband to see Stephanie.

She was still sitting on the blanket, leaning back on her elbows looking up at the sky. She was clearly in her element, not having to pretend she was anything other than what she was. I was just turning away when I noticed a man kneel beside her, with a sparkler in his hand. She took it from him and smiled happily as he sat down. She settled back, leaning against him while he held her.

I'd seen him around a few times. I knew he worked with Stephanie. He also seemed to live life the same way she did, full of adventure and danger. Steph turned her face up to his and kissed him like she meant it. I guess she finally found someone that'd let her live her life the way she wanted too, and I was happy for that.

I finally turned my gaze to my mother. Her eyes met mine and I knew this was all because of her. Her strength and courage had truly inspired our own. Joe and I would have never had the lives we had now if she wouldn't have fought and won her own war. From now on when I celebrate this day, it'll be for my mama and her Independence Day.