Author – PinPin [mciupin13 at yahoo dot com]
Rating – R : strong language, eventually some violent and sexually suggestive content (no smut)
Disclaimer – I do not own the characters, etc. I am only borrowing them from Janet. (plenty of originals will pop-up later) This is not for profit, just for kicks.
Notes – post EoT, directly following book 11. Babe, but Cupcake respectful.
***SPOILER ALERT*** Spoilers for all books, especially EoT.

Stephanie Redux - Chapter 10

I made it six entire blocks before I had to pull over and park the Duc. The tears and the helmet were too much to handle all at once. I couldn't see a freaking thing. If I had kept going, I was sure to kill someone. And it would probably be some innocent local instead of the person on whom all of my animosity was currently focused. Not that he deserved it. I deserved it. It was more than obvious that the guilt I was feeling was unexpectedly and uncomfortably justified. I'd just done one of the most insensitive and stupid things of my entire life. I'd unloaded on Joe all of my anger at him AND all of my aggravation with Ranger. As I mentally reviewed what I had shouted at him, I knew that a lot of what I'd spouted had been meant for Ranger's ears… not Joe's. And there might have been some displaced self-castigation in there as well. How long have I been doing that? How long have I been misdirecting my frustrations?

I could almost hear the telephones ringing all over the 'Burg already. There was no way in hell that Mrs. Del Preto hadn't heard the crashing glass when Joe broke that bottle. That isn't even taking the shouting into consideration. Images of my mother ironing the very clothes she was wearing ran through my mind and I felt like I might pass out, just from the fear of our next encounter. How terrible of a sin would it be if I decided to eat a piece of cake? No, no, no, Steph. That was at least one thing I was still determined to do right.

When I looked up and I saw where I was, I blew out a quick breath. If 'grateful' was an emotion that I'd been capable of at the time, that's what I would have felt. I was at the playground. Yeah, that playground. The one where I met Joe. I was four years old at the time, and at that age Val was my arch-nemesis. She'd thought that it was funny to push me into him and tell his babysitter, his cousin Loretta, that I was now her responsibility. Then she happily ran off with Gina Bartel to go brush each other's hair or giggle or learn to sew or some other girlie crap. So that was how I 'officially' met Morelli. It was in that same park where he first kissed me, on the playground near the big slide, the tall, old, metal giant that baked in the afternoon sun and burned the back of our legs. The one where, years later, I kissed Bobby Zawiki. The one where Mary Lou told me all about Aunt Flo and gave me the 'Best Friends' bracelet that I still keep, to this very day, at the bottom of my jewelry box. It was my home away from home when I was eleven. And at least that night, it was still a version of home to me, a comfort of sorts in my misery. [*005]

I regressed. I cried. I slumped on the swing set and pumped my feet. I wanted to erase that night and have the chance to do it over again. I wanted to forget who I was for one minute. I wanted to feel the way I'd felt all those long years ago.

The Morelli/Plum drama had finally crescendoed. There was no way for me to avoid that fact. Denial wasn't an option. Humiliation, however, was totally possible. In fact, it was a reality that was knocking me upside the head and square in the chest. The only thing that made regular breathing an option for me was the fresh night air – and maybe the thought that Joe had a scarier grandmother than I did was helping a little too. At least I wouldn't have to face Bella when the rumors started. And there would surely be rumors. There would be all kinds of rumors.

There always had been, even when we were those little children on the playground. He'd gotten the ball rolling the day he pantsed me while I was hanging from the monkey bars. I didn't help matters when I pushed him out of a tree that we were climbing and he had to go home and explain to his mother why his clothes were torn. I'd always liked the idea of that. It served him right. Then there'd been the day he tied my shoelaces together from under the bleachers at a junior high school football game. It had been the most embarrassingly public stumble of my life. After that I wasn't in the mood to be sneaky, so I just waited until we were alone in the stairwell outside of the Biology labs and gave him a good, hard shove. The fall dislocated his shoulder. Come to think of it, a lot of what I'd done to Morelli over the years involved pushing him from great heights and causing him bodily injury. Things escalated to the breaking point though, after Tasty Pasty. We both hit new lows and it was probably for the best that we parted ways after that. Who knows what else the two of us would have been capable of after I'd nearly committed vehicular homicide?

Nothing had changed when we eventually met up with one another again. He thwarted and disgraced me repeatedly while I was trying my hardest to make my new job work and keep my life from circling the drain. So I stole his car. Then – groan – the shower curtain incident. After that, I was a little proud of myself when I locked him up in that truck, with several dead bodies and a drug shipment, and then managed to do what he was so certain I never could; take him in and clear his name.

As far back as I can remember we've been trapped in that 'unhealthy pattern of behavior.' He hurts me. I hurt him. He retaliates. I re-retaliate. Always the same; his turn, my turn, his turn, my turn. It wasn't any different when we were a couple. He'd get pissed. I'd get pissed. He'd try to make a stand. I'd repulse his efforts with everything I had. We both end up frustrated and angry. And on it went.

The place we weren't hurting each other was in bed. The irony was that having spent so much time between the sheets, intimate and open, only made all of the other moments more and more painful. How can two people be so pleased but so disgruntled, so affectionate but so cruel? We were the epitome of dysfunction. How in the world did it take me this long to recognize it? How is it that other people still don't see it?

Because the moments in between were what most people saw. Because when things weren't running off the rails they were good, really good. Joe and I had been more than lovers. We were friends. We laughed and talked and shared. We sent each other surreptitiously amused and horrified glances across my parents' dinner table and we liked to cuddle to sports games. In the moment, we had always been comfortable and content; we loved each other. It was the future, or the immediate past, that caused all of our friction. But two people can't live their lives always in the moment. Not really. Joe and I tried, again and again. But it wasn't possible. The future just kept creeping up on us.

Dusk had fully fallen, passed beyond the horizon, and was replaced with the inky, Jersey night sky. The park was deserted. I looked at my watch. It was 10:20. The 'Burg was safely tucked away in bed. Everyone but me. I was alone in a playground after dark feeling sorry for myself. I sat on my swing, weeping quietly.

How many hours had I spent on these swings? I recalled jumping from their heights, the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. I remembered being ten years old and thinking that nothing would ever take me higher than that swing set did. It felt like I was launching to the moon, risking life and limb for the rush, for the feeling of empty space below me as I flew through the air. I remember one day in particular, Mary Lou, Eddie, and I had dragged some furniture cushions with us. Our brilliant plan was that when we jumped from the swings, we would land on them. You know, to minimize possible injuries. Of course the injuries inflicted by our enraged mothers more than made up for the negligible protection those cushions had provided. I never have been much of a planner. A fact that was disconcertingly clear to me as I looked around again.

I hadn't known what to expect when I finally arrived at Joe's because I hadn't slowed down long enough to give it any thought. This past week I'd been pummeled by that particular flaw. It might be my worst. And as I thought back to all those years with Joe, I had the rather anticlimactic revelation that it wasn't a new trait. I'd always been that way. The old Stephanie and the new one were the same person in that respect. It was depressing. It was so awful. How many years of my life was I going to spend making the same mistakes? The crushing weight of it had me reflexively laughing at myself through my tears. What was wrong with me? I'd rushed into marriage with The Dick. I jumped headfirst into the deep end of a dangerous profession I knew nothing about. Then I left Vinnie's just as quickly in a moment of vexation. I'd taken the job with RangeMan without giving a lot of thought to what that would mean for me, and as it turned out, it meant something quite different than I had ever anticipated. Moving out of Joe's had been a snap decision. Even the small things I did blindly, like storming out on Tank.

Whims. My life was ruled by whim and impulse. I lived by my gut and not my head, and that had the potential for disaster, a fact I've proved many times over. It's just that now the stakes were higher. So much higher. The life and death kind of higher. I ran off to Stiva's without thinking it through. I was nearly killed. Then I immediately did it again. When I thought about it that way, I couldn't fault the others for being upset. When I'm in trouble their lives revolve around my safety, and I don't even spare it a second glance. Something was going to have to change, something more than just a gym membership.

I let the swing slowly lose momentum and glide to a gentle stop. Placing my feet firmly on the ground, I stood and squared my shoulders.

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

Bobby Brown let the chair spin around one more revolution before reaching out to touch the desktop and stopping its progress. His eyes swept over the screens in front of him. Every monitor held a motionless picture, the dinner hour temporarily drawing the entire city's attention. There wasn't any activity at their 24-hour accounts and the rotating building surveillance didn't reveal anything other than Guzman's preference for the silence of the night shift. Bobby was alone tonight; having to work a rare 'one man' shift in the control room. He found solace in the knowledge that this was the last night of furlough and after the others returned, he and Lester would both get three full days off as well. It had been almost two years since Bobby had more than 36 hours of 'offline leave' all at once. Maybe he'd visit his mother and sisters. It had been far too long since he'd been able to make it back home.

Distracted by his mental travel plans, he didn't answer the phone until the third ring. Crossing his fingers, he hoped that it wasn't the boss calling. "RangeMan, Brown."

No such luck. "Report." Ranger's fierce tone let him know that the delay had been noticed.

"All's clear and quiet. Lone man on deck. Santos is due back in thirty."

There was a pause on the line, and then Bobby heard the question he hated most in this world. "Stephanie?"

He pulled an ugly face that he made sure wouldn't be picked up by any of the cameras and typed in the transponder numbers that he, along with all of the other men, had memorized by now. He let a whispered curse slip past his lips, thankful that it had been too quiet to be heard over the phone. "The Ducati is parked outside Morelli's."

Bobby winced when there was no reply, just the firm click of the line disconnecting. Not again.

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

I didn't want to go home. If I went home I'd either wallow all by my lonesome or make a fool of myself in front of Ranger. I didn't need that. But I didn't know where to go either, not at that time of night. Even if someone was awake, I'd surely be disturbing them with a visit. I pulled away and started driving without a destination in mind.

Twenty minutes later I pulled up outside of the Kloughn house and stopped questioning my own judgment. The lights were still on at the back and I thought I saw a shadowed figure travel across the kitchen curtains. At least one other person was awake in the 'Burg. Or maybe Albert fell asleep in the kitchen and left the light on. I wouldn't put it past him. As I swung my leg over the bike and pulled off my helmet, I spared one fleeting thought in the hopes that it wasn't a party of sick daughters who were keeping the family up into the wee hours. I made my way around the house and gently knocked on the kitchen door. Val's face flashed in the window for a second before she opened the door, and my reaction was pride. 'Good girl,' I had thought, knowing how smart it is for a woman to be suspicious of a knock on her back door this late at night.

Her eyes were immediately concerned. "What's wrong? Is it Mom or Dad? Grandma?"

"No." I felt like an asshole. Of course she was on guard. Who wouldn't be if I showed up at their house in the middle of the night? "Can I come in?"

She gave me a searching look and I knew that she could tell, even in the low light, that I'd been crying. Then she glanced behind her with a frown. Leaning farther out the cracked door, she whispered, "I'll meet you in the garage in five. Albert fell asleep on the couch; I don't want to wake him up."

Nodding, I retreated. I stood there in her garage, looking around me, and couldn't help but think about Joe again. Would I ever beat the hurt of this? Would thoughts of him sting forever? Would they sneak up and ruin me one day, haunting me like an undiagnosed genetic condition that appears out of nowhere and destroys you in the blink of an eye? Fuck. Why am I thinking things like that?

It wasn't long before Valerie shuffled into the garage, complete with house slippers and bathrobe. "What are you doing here?" she asked while brushing off the seat beside me on the dirty old workbench. I wished that I had thought to do that. My ass was probably filthy now.

"I didn't want to go home."

It's been years and years since we've sat next to each other like this. It was a habit we'd learned from our father. The garage was his domain and every now and then we'd be honored with an invitation into that sanctuary. Once we were old enough, Val and I started to have our own private powwows. Apparently Val's mind was heading in the same direction as mine.

"You haven't come to me since that time in college," she said, reminding me of the last thing I needed to be reminded of tonight.

I shrugged.

"So it's over with Joe?" she asked, her disapproval laced with an edge of doubt.

"Shit, I knew it. It's already started." I knew there was no way to keep it from my mother, but I'd hoped I'd get a few hours before the fallout found it's way to my family. "How bad?"

I was surprised when she reached down and pulled a huge bottle of Arbor Mist out of the cabinet behind us. Val was more like my mother than I thought. "I might have had a few calls," she said as she handed it to me.

I couldn't think of a reply that wouldn't sound sad or inane. So instead I just took a swig. This night was a loss anyway; I might as well waste the rest of it. That's the careless attitude that got me into this mess in the first place isn't it? Damn. If I knew what was good for me, I'd erase the phrase 'might as well' from my vocabulary completely. I took one more pull on the bottle before passing it back. "I'm sure there'll be more. Mom's probably unplugged the phone by now."

"Hours ago. I went over as soon as it started. The phone was shut off by the time I got there." Val drank again. "Plonka was there too. I guess Grandma had invited him to dinner. So Mom was already in a piss poor mood even before the phone lines started burning. When I walked into the kitchen she was trying to attack him with the iron. That man can scream. Dad got the iron away from her before anyone got hurt."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"We all cleared out pretty quickly after that."

"We should just let her tipple."

She shoved the bottle back at me. "You tipple. She can have cake."

I knew then that I wanted to cry.

"I don't understand you sometimes," Val said with more genuine interest than censure. "What's the problem with Joe anyway? Why don't you want to marry him?"

I took another long drink. "It's complicated."

"Not really. You either marry a guy or you end it and find one that you can marry."

My brows headed north. "This from the Disney Princess?"

"Now that is complicated," she emphasized with a flick of her eyes in the direction of the house.

"You do love Albert, don't you?" I didn't understand Val either. She was all for marriage. Even without the common last name, the Kloughns were a family. Why skip out on her own wedding? What had chilled her feet so suddenly? "You already have a daughter together."

"Of course I love him, but… well he's Albert."

"I thought he was your snuggie-uggums," I swear, I really did try to say it without laughing.

"We can't all have 'World's Sexiest Man' contestants chasing after us, you know," she snapped with an edge of bitterness.

"I think 'chasing' is too strong a word. It's more like they tolerate me."

"Whatever, Steph. You need to get your head out of your ass."

"Maybe, but you should take a good hard second look at Albert. He's not Steve."

"Believe me, I know."

"There must be something about him that gave you butterflies, something that makes your heart race. Val, you see a lot of smart guys with dumb women, but you hardly ever see a smart woman with a dumb guy*, and you're a smart woman. So he's not perfect, but he's a good man and you love each other."

"I could say the same thing about you and Joe."

I ground my teeth and wanted to pull her hair out. "Could you give the Morelli shit a rest, even if it's just for tonight." I felt a familiar, threatening sting behind my eyes and hated the way my voice quivered as I asked, "Please?"

"Then cut the hypocritical lectures. I don't need to hear that either right now!"

I knew that we were sliding awfully close to name calling, and I didn't come to Val for that. "Besides, what if I don't want to get married again?"

She looked at me like I'd turned purple with polka dots. "You want to be alone? That's why you won't marry Morelli?"

I sighed. "Being unmarried and being alone are not the same thing." Drink. Pass.

"Well they feel really damn close to me," she admitted with unfocused eyes, confusing me even more about her recent dash from the alter.

Honestly, the strange thing was that deep down I think they were starting to feel a bit similar to me too. We sat quietly for a while; drink, pass, drink, pass.

"When Steve left me —"

I cut in with wide eyes. "Is that what you heard, that Joe left me?" I winced as I interrupted her. How fucking insensitive am I?

Val didn't seem to notice. "I heard that there was a lot of anger and I know from experience that you rarely start fights," she paused to take a drink, "and you finish them even less." She gave me a pointed look before beginning again. "When he left me, I spent every day feeling like I was suffocating. As soon as the girls were out of earshot, I was balling like a baby." She took another drink and passed the bottle back to me. "I know you and Mom have your differences, but if it wasn't for her…"

I hadn't really planned on getting toasted with Val that night, but if she was going to start talking about our parents, than it would be better if I kept drinking. Hell, it might be better if we had some tequila.

"You should talk to Dad. This Stiva thing has gotten out of hand. He's worried about you."

Nuh-uh. That was where I was drawing the line. I was not about to go there. With the wine I already had in me and the recent memory of his silent support as he helped me pack up my things at Joe's, I'd be a sniveling mess. I'd had enough of crying. Drink, pass.

"I bought you a gym membership."

It took Val a moment to absorb that subject change, and she frowned when she did. When she passed the bottle back to me it was with more force than I expected and I almost dropped it. "Gee, thanks. That's real sweet, Sis." Then, as if I hadn't had a strange enough night, I watched in wonder as she moved over to the far side of the garage and pulled a disposable lighter and a half empty packet of cigarettes out from behind an old, rusty bucket.

"You shouldn't smoke." Hey, I didn't know what to say. Saint Valerie was the last person I'd expect to have a hidden stash of cancer sticks.

She rolled her eyes and shot me that 'older sister' look that told me if I kept talking I'd be sorry. "Right, I'm gonna take your advice; because you lead such a healthy lifestyle."

"You're the one with booze and smokes hidden away in her garage."

"You know what's never been in this garage?" her eyebrows inched a little higher in challenge as she spoke. "A bomb." And Val scores a point.

I had a flashback to the day I'd accidentally broken her music box. The hurt she'd laid on me was enough to make me back down for years afterwards. I could probably take her now, but it wouldn't be worth the effort. Plus, I'd have to think of some way to explain the black eye to Ranger. And even worse, Lula. This was definitely one of those fights that I should walk away from and let go until another day. See? I've already started to take a greater interest in my personal safety. That's progress isn't it? "It's that new ladies' gym on State. 'Lou and I joined," I told her, "and we got a membership for Lula too."

"Well," she looked down at herself, "it can't hurt." She smiled at me, and I was glad to see it. "Besides, it's you're dime."

"We signed us all up for a self defense course. It starts in two weeks."

She looked at me in a long and full survey that had me feeling uncomfortable and then shifted her gaze to stare out of the garage window for several minutes. I had no idea what she was about to drop on me, but that look always meant the same thing from Val; she was making a decision that you weren't going to like. "Can the girls take the course? I've got some money saved."

Sometimes I forgot she was a mother. "I can check, but I doubt it."

"I was just thinking about Clyde Cone and…" she hesitated and shivered, "Abruzzi." The way she whispered his name, as if she said it too loud he might appear in front of us, made me shiver too. Images from that night flashed in my mind, unbidden. I took another long pull on the bottle as Val continued, "If the Stiva's can be complete psychos and fool the entire 'Burg for years, I hate thinking about who else might be out there."

"Hey," I said, pulling her attention back to the present, "I'm better than I used to be, and I plan on getting even better." She nodded, but didn't seem reassured. I let some intensity creep into my voice and caught her eyes, "I won't let anyone touch a hair on their heads." The fierce urge to protect my family rocked me and I knew that I meant those words more than I could express.

"Thanks," she said. Her smile had become lazy and my mind was starting to muddle.

"How are the girls doing?" With as frequent as my visits home are, I never really stop long enough to visit with my nieces. The warm and fuzzy feelings spreading intoxication throughout my extremities had me wondering why I didn't spend more of my time with the girls.

"They're ok. I can't convince Mary Alice that she isn't a horse, but at least her new ideas about being a horse soul trapped in a human body means she's a better behaved horse than she used to be. Angie's doing well in school, but I wish she'd try harder to make friends."

"Let them be whatever they want while they're still kids," I pronounced remembering they way my mother always made us both attend to the same summer camp every year, causing one or the other of us a month of misery. "At least they're nothing like we used to be."

"Yet," she corrected me with a grimace. Then she started laughing, "Remember the night you tried to climb back into the bathroom window drunk?"

Did I ever. I made so much noise my father came out to see what was going on. Plus, I was too tipsy to keep my footing and I fell off the roof… directly on top of him. "I remember the night he caught you and Tommy Jancek in the back of his van."

She groaned, "Ugh, I should have known you'd bring that up."

"Of course," I heard my tongue trip on the words and faintly slur, "no reason not to."

"After that Dad had to interrogate every boy that came to the door," Vall pouted like it was only yesterday that our father had sat us down for his 'Plum Rules of Dating' speech.

"And you weren't allowed to go anywhere with anyone unless they came to the door first to get the piss scared out of them." It was my turn to laugh. "Paul Anguiano was the best."

"He was so terrified of Dad he threw up when he realized we were going to be fifteen minutes late for curfew." We both giggled for several minutes at the memory of Paul hunched over our mother's geraniums.

Val was done laughing before I was. "You really don't want to have children?"

Uh-oh. Time for another drink. "I don't know. Probably not."

"Well, if you don't want to get married then –"

"I don't know, alright? Maybe."

I tried to pass the bottle back to Val but she waved it off and lit another cigarette. "You better decide soon."

An exasperated breath forced its way past my lips. "Look, all I know is that I don't want to have Joe's children. The idea scares the hell out of me. Beyond that, I have no clue."

She looked thoughtful for a minute and then asked gently, "What about Ranger's children?"

I tipped my head back and finished what was left of the wine. "Don't go there."

"What is going on between you two anyway?" The intensity of her gaze had me wondering how long she'd been waiting to ask me that. After all, it was the million dollar question.

And I had no idea how to answer it. "More than nothing and less than something."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know, Val!" I sniffled. I can be a teary drunk. "He's so confusing."

"So are you." She shook her head at me with something akin to pity. My lower lip started to tremble. I don't remember much after that.

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

"Go away."

"You have to see this," Mary Alice whispered, giving Angie another shake.

"Go back to bed," Angie mumbled into her pillow.

"Get up. Get up."

"We have school in the morning." Anger was gathering in Angie's tone as she rolled over to glare at her sister.

"Can't you hear that? It's outside." Mary Alice was bent over her with wide eyes, her Black Beauty nightgown askew. "Come and look. I think Mom killed Aunt Stephanie."

"What?" Cleary still fighting off sleep, Angie folded her covers back and shifted her legs out of bed.

Mary Alice went to the window and pulled back the curtain. With their faces pressed to the glass, breaths forming small circles of fog, they peered out into the night. A weak light shone out across the backyard and illuminated their mother's figure, struggling to drag their limp aunt towards the backdoor. Angie's jaw fell. "Jellybeans!"

"Shh. She'll hear you," Mary Alice shushed her dramatically.

"What is she doing?"

"I think she's dead. Grandma is always saying that she'll get killed. Maybe Mom killed her."

"Shut up. That's ridiculous. Mom couldn't kill anybody."

"Sometimes she looks like she's gonna kill Albert."

"That's different."

"What should we do? Should we call the police? Ooh, we should call Joe!" Mary Alice was starting to sound excited.

"Be quiet! Let me think. There has to be an explanation." Angie's brow creased and her wheels spun for a few beats. "Maybe Aunt Stephanie is just hurt."

"Should we go help them? We can get Albert."

"No!" Angie didn't know what was happening, but she did know that whatever it was, Albert would probably make it worse. "Let's just watch and see what –"

At that moment Stephanie kicked one of her legs and groggily struggled out of her sister's grasp. She rolled over onto her hands and knees and emptied her entire stomach onto the grass.

"Ewww!" both girls chorused. Valerie craned her neck to look in their direction and they jumped back from the window like it bit them, stumbling and grabbing at each other for support.

"I told you she wasn't dead," Angie taunted.

"Do you think Mom saw us?"

"I don't know, but I'm not gonna wait to find out." Angie jumped back into her bed and under the covers, tucking herself down and pretending to sleep. On the other side of the room, her little sister followed suit.

Several minutes later, on the brink of sleep, Angie heard Mary Alice's soft whisper cut through the dark silence. "It's very quiet. Do you think we should check that mom's not killing her right now?"

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

The blinking cursor taunted me. The penthouse apartment was quiet; the only sounds were the low hum of the computer's fan and the faint sound of my pen skimming across my papers. I glanced at the clock. Ten seconds max, that's all it would take to know exactly where she was. My fingers hovered above the keyboard in hesitation.

I'd had a day from hell. All the paperwork I'd planned to get done had to take a backseat to fieldwork. Of all the days to get an alarm call, it was one of the worst, and we had received two. First there was an alarm at Stevenson Suites that turned out to be nothing more than a small fire in the hotel kitchen. Then, a construction mishap took out power for an entire block, including Deloitte & Touche, which meant we had to send a response team and then post personnel to cover the location until systems are restored. What a nightmare.

It was late evening before I could finally escape from my desk. I'd headed straight for Stephanie's. I was surprised when I didn't see the Duc in her lot. There were several places she might have gone and I was too tired to drive around to all of them. So I called the control room instead. When I heard Bobby say 'Morelli' I felt sick. I could have killed someone. She was already back there. I left for one day and she'd gone back to him.

I was kicking myself as I made my way up to her apartment. What else did I expect? She always goes back to him. It's my own damn fault, really. I'd even sent her back to him at one time. God only knows what I'd been thinking when I spoke that day. I know I'd thought that I had good reasons at the time, but now, for the life of me, I can't understand how I could have ever considered it a smart move. It had been the safe move. I knew she'd go back eventually; why delay the inevitable?

With my duffle in hand, I had stood in the dark, silent room, waiting for that familiar calm to find me. But it was elusive. There was no peace to be had, only the stillness of empty space.

My attention returned to the present and the computer screen in front of me. I made my decision. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to pull up her location and confirm what I already knew. She was with him. At least if I wasn't positive, I might be able to hold onto a small doubt and get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a rough one. She would be at RangeMan in the morning.

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

It was 6 a.m. when I was startled into awareness by my blaring alarm. I expressed my feelings on the subject with the heel of my foot, which was easily done since I'd collapsed onto my bed upside down. How does that thing keep functioning despite the abuse I inflict on it daily? I struggled out of my covers, gave a long, languid stretch, and took a moment to listen to the early morning sounds of an apartment complex full of septugenitarians. Oddly enough, my time spent in this building had rendered those noises viscerally soothing. The trumpeting of nose blowing, the whistle of teapots, the gurgle of oxygen tanks and the intermittent rattle of pill bottles; it all had started to sound like dawn's birdsong to me. Yeah, I know; I'm not normal.

The pillow beside me, which I'd almost begun to think of as Ranger's, was untouched, crisp and cool. Coming fully awake, I dragged myself up and out of my room. But there was no Ranger. There was no smell of coffee brewing. I didn't hear the shower. There were no boots at my door or gun on my nightstand. My hand worked not to tremble as I reached for my closet door. His bag was gone. He must have come last night just to pick it up. The idea that he had been there, but didn't stay or even leave a note, stung a little. He didn't even say hello, or in his case, 'Yo.' Now I hadn't honestly thought that he was moving in with me when he'd brought it, but this departure seemed a little abrupt. Then again, what else could I expect from him. That was the way Ranger operated; here one minute and gone the next.

Snooze alarm to the rescue, for the second day in a row. It's probably a good thing that my mind never gets to wander down those dark paths for longer than nine minutes at a time. It's a shitty way to start the day. So my gloomy thoughts were stuffed into the 'this doesn't bother you' section of my denial files, and I got ready to join the waking world. I was hung-over and exhausted, but excited to be headed back to Vinnie's, which helped me to forget my other various woes.

That morning was to be my next attempt at change, a real change. So far the whole exercise thing was going well enough. My run had been along the typical circuit. I hadn't enjoyed it, I wasn't particularly good at it, and I wasn't too sure that it was making any kind of difference yet. Nevertheless, a morning run had occurred. And that's the first step right? It was more of a commitment than I'd ever managed before; I suppose there was some pride to be felt in that. And the exercise still counts if you throw up halfway through, doesn't it?

After I'd run my normal route, I ran even farther to Val's and picked up the Duc, which I learned from her note on my kitchen counter was still parked outside her garage. I had no clue how I'd gotten back to my apartment the night before, but I crossed my fingers and hoped it hadn't been my father or a serial killer prone to obsessive behavior. Even Albert would have been preferable. My normal morning rituals resumed after that. I donned my RangeMan uniform and CAT boots and I reluctantly 'dressed' myself. The fear that skittered through my belly as I tucked the gun away told me what it was I needed to do first.

So my next stop was Sunny's. According to my watch, I was about three minutes too early. She wasn't open yet. In fact, she wasn't even there. I was peeking into the small windows of the shop when I saw the reflection behind me of a woman walking her dog. I stood up with a start. I wasn't being 'aware.' So I turned to face the street and settled farther back in the alcove of the shop's door to wait. In that position, my back was covered and I had a good view of the street for the entire length of the block. There was something about this whole 'aware of my surroundings' thing that put me on edge, as if it was conditioning me to be paranoid. I shifted nervously from one foot to the other as I waited. I was thinking about my kitchen walls. And Ram. Was it proper gun range etiquette to mention an incident like that to the people who are in your company that next time you held a firearm? I didn't much feel like discussing it with Sunny, but I felt like surprising her with another accidental discharge even less.

"Plum." Sunny appeared seemingly out of nowhere and startled the snot out of me. "Been waiting long?"

"No," I answered trying to catch my breath, "and please call me Stephanie."

"Well, Stephanie, I'm open," she said as she held the door for me. I followed her in. She made her way through the shop, flipping light switches and unlocking things here and there. She turned to me with an inquiring smile. "You look like you're ready for business."

I smiled back. "Yes, ma'am. I'm all business today."

"That's great, but if you ever call me ma'am again you're going to find out how good I am at taking care of business with my gun."

We made our way back to the range. As we went, Sunny called out instructions about running the shop to someone I couldn't see in evidence, but I didn't dwell on it. I was too distracted by the gun and headgear Sunny were holding out to me. I put on the ear protection, but told her I wanted to use my own gun. If I was going to get used to using a gun, I wanted it to be the one I always had with me. Or at least the one I was always supposed to have on me. She inspected it and tsked, "when was the last time you cleaned this?"

Crap. I hadn't been there five minutes yet and I'd already done something wrong. I had no idea when it was last cleaned. I hadn't had it that long. She spent the morning showing me how to properly clean my gun and explaining to me the importance of proper weapon maintence. Then she ran over the range's rules and regulations with me, showing me how everything worked, occasionally asking me questions or to repeat back to her the things she'd told me. Then I had to sign some more paperwork to confirm that I'd been given her safety orientation. I was there for almost an hour before I even aimed my gun. Sunny watched me shoot for a few minutes. Then she stopped me.

"Ok, Hun, that's enough. Next time I'm going to go over more with you about stance and handling. You did good."

I trust Ranger with my life, but I didn't always trust him to be honest with me about my performance. He was too supportive to tell me when I'd completely bullocked something. Hearing words of approval from an uninterested third party was exactly the encouragement I needed after yesterday's mishaps. Her praise was enough to put a little bounce in my step as I made my way to RangeMan.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Despite this story's longevity, it's still a WIP. (I work on it when I can.) Please R&R.
[*005 : Nick Cave – People Ain't No Good]
* Jenny & Das's Women's History Month Challenge – March 2010, PerfectlyPlum

** A/N: This chapter is probably as close to genuine angst as I'll venture for a long while. But if there's ever a time for angsty goodness, it's at the end of a long term relationship. Right? And coming up next... now that she'd had a few days (ten chapters *eye roll*) to try regaining her footing, Stephanie heads back to work with Lula and the Rangemen. **