Helen Plum POV

Helen Plum liked routine. She liked having food on the table at the just so time, the laundry and ironing all done in good, reasonable time. One must be presentable for polite company at all times. Dithering was unacceptable (as was the obscenities of her deranged mother but Helen did not like to dwell on things that made her feel positively ill and consequentially reach for that sneaky bottle of Jack Daniel's hidden beneath the sink).

Helen Plum especially disliked surprises.

Even more so, Helen Plum despised and downright dreaded surprise that involved her daughter.

Not her normal, happily married with appropriate number of children (admittedly one born out of wedlock and by two different fathers after a divorce, but still) daughter.

The other one.

The troublesome one who insisted on giving her mother heart attacks and a life filled with anxiety and sneaky sips of Jack Daniels whilst she nervously awaited whatever news filtered through the grapevine before she could do damage control (honestly it was like Stephanie didn't care for appearances at all).

It wasn't that Helen Plum didn't love her daughter; she just wished she perhaps might seek employment at the button factory rather than with her suspicious cousin, that Vincent (not her side of the family mind, that is a very important distinction) or even settled down with that nice boy Joseph.

He was quite the catch, even if his family were somewhat of a thorn in Helen's side as well as her worst competition. A marriage between her daughter and Joseph would be the 'burg equivalent of a Disney film. Reformed bad boy with a heart of gold rescues wayward princess from herself. Perfect! Helen could see it all working out in such simple and wonderful fashion.

But it was not to be. So far.

(Helen would live in hope until the day she died. Or Stephanie was married and settled down. So the day she died was persistently and considerably more likely).

And so Helen spent her days measured in sighs and hourly throwing her eyes up to the ceiling and praying for some kind of miracle (such as her mother to stop visiting those shops and wearing lyrical for heaven's sake). Or hoping Stephanie would come over to dinner and she would bring some kind of gentleman friend and not the smell of burnt hair and Molotov cocktails.

She did not expect to spend her Monday catching up to the burg grapevine on her own daughter.

She particularly did not except to find out about her elopement in Giovanni's. (Honestly she popped out for five minutes, what on earth could Stephanie have done in the five minutes she had left the house where all was well and there were no mutterings bout the Plum girl?)

But it was certain.

And once all the tittering busy bodies had swivelled to stare at her dead on with eyes of judgement, the situation got ten times worse.

"I heard the news about Stephanie" the voice was pleasant, airy. Disinterested.

Oh she was no such thing.

Helen turned to stare at her rival and occasionally partner in crime. Mrs Morelli.

Helen could see past the sympathetic look her lips were twitching not to turn into a smile.

"What about Stephanie?" sensing that there was no good news to be had (when was there ever?) it didn't occur to her to school her reaction as she usually did. She was too busy trying not to hyperventilate and keep hold of her grocery basket now slipping in her slack grip.

"That's she's left Trenton of course, I'm sure you must have known. Obviously she wouldn't have left without telling you would she?" Mrs Morelli was no longer bothering to hide the mirth in her eyes. "Do tell me what she's been up to when she gets back, we all love to hear about what's happening with that dear girl. Well, I best go; afternoon!" and with a chipper wave she was gone.

The thudding of her pulse was loud enough to drown out her surroundings, and this was usually the point where she rushed to get out of the judging eyes of the community she worked so hard to be a pillar of.

But her stomach tied in knots as she tried to swallow a growing sense of dread.

Her barely filled basket fell to the ground with light thump, left forgotten as she flew out to the car.

She and Stephanie had their differences, but she wouldn't leave for any amount of time without letting her know not to worry first, right?

Not that it wasn't like her, but this didn't feel like the other times.

Stephanie had been more reserved and had visited less these past few weeks, Helen had just thought her and Joe were on another break and she was avoiding them.

What if this were more final?

It didn't bear thinking about.

Tank POV (Ranger)

In the end, Tank didn't get any warning whatsoever.

Sitting in his office, grumbling to himself as he worked through paperwork for what felt like hours he was just considering stepping out to the break room to get a sandwich for lunch when a commotion caught his ears.

Rolling his eyes, he stretched as he stood from his chair, thinking it was probably just Lester causing trouble as always.

It was, but what Tank didn't know yet as Lester was just about to turn a bad situation nuclear.

Rangeman was all sleek lines and neatly ordered cubicles. Calm. Efficient. Practical.

Nothing unnecessary or distracting.

Which is why it wasn't so much a surprise that when Tank reached his doorway, he saw Ranger doing the same in his own office. The two shared a silent look that spoke volumes about the behaviour of their resident annoyance slash comic wannabe.

Turning instead to survey the situation, Tank saw that in his haste to get back to his cubicle from wherever he'd left this morning he'd run into Blinkie who'd been carrying not only a stack of folders, but also a fresh, steaming cup of coffee.

It was a mess.

Blinkie had obviously yelled out in surprise at the collision, before asking Lester what the hell he was up to. Usually Lester would snap back with some sassy comment that would get his ass sent to the gym by Ranger but this time he was fussing, wide eyed and tense, shoulders bunched as he jittered restlessly, moving forwards and backwards as if he couldn't decide where he was going. His eyes kept swiveling from side to side but when he caught sight of Ranger he visibly flinched.

Tank saw the man in question raise an eyebrow before he said quietly but firmly, "Enough".

Lester stilled. Purposefully looking towards Tank with an almost begging look that Tank had no clue what to do with.

It wasn't like Lester to get shaken (hell, it wasn't like any of them to get shaken) or be wary unless something had happened to Stephanie.

Stephanie.

Oh shit.

And then he realises he made a noise at the revelation that the others must have also come to but don't yet realise the significance of.

As all eyes in the room fixated on him, Tank swallowed, his throat tight and closing more and more with the absolute dread of what he knew was coming next.

Ranger's face was now showing an expression which could only be his version of incredulousness. "What is going on here?"

Tank held Lester's gaze as the other man visibly pulled himself together as if preparing for a blow.

"It's Stephanie"

Tank stepped forward at the words as if by getting closer to Lester he could prevent the inevitable but stopped at a look from Ranger who was now a whole lot tenser than he'd been a minute ago.

Lester exhaled, his whole body slumping as he turned to face his boss dead on. Like a man standing before a noose.

"She's gone"

Ranger didn't bat an eyelash. "Gone where?"

"She's just gone"

"Was she taken?" The again was voiced in all their heads, it wasn't exactly an unusual occurrence for Stephanie as sad as that was, but now Ranger was getting impatient. He'd slowly stepped forward to crowd Lester in leaving him no way to escape.

"She's gone gone. Left Trenton gone. Left Lula and Connie a note" Lester's shaking hand shoved forward the crumpled paper in question as Ranger took it from him slowly and he continued. "Says she's gone and she ain't coming back and we ain't gonna find her"

Silence.

Tank could have sworn he heard multiple men inhale sharply at Lester's words.

Tank couldn't breathe, his heart had frozen to ice. He could have sworn his pulse has halted in that god damn silence.

And he knows. He knows exactly what's going to happen next because it's Standard Operating Procedure and damn it for once he tried to play the nice guy.

"Who was the last person to see her?" Ranger's tone is deafening. He doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't lose his temper. He just stands there quietly.

And with a sudden clatter of keys and wheels rolling to break the silence it's Vince who rushes to answer Ranger's request because he's on monitor duty today. But it's not Vince he's worried about, though he's sure the man in question can feel Ranger's gaze like a gun barrel pressed to his head.

Vince suddenly halts, no more noise, no more movement, before his eyes traitorously flicker towards Tank.

It does not escape Ranger's notice, his eyes narrow infinitesimally as Tank tries to keep his expression as blank as he always did.

No such luck.

"Who was it?"

Vince coughs. "Er, this morning Boss. Early hours, approximately 2AM." He still doesn't say it. Tank is a little impressed that his voice hasn't wavered.

"Who?" Ranger barks, his composure finally breaking as his fist curls around the note she'd left. Had it really been just a note? Or was it a death sentence?

"Vehicle seven, Sir. It was…." And now Vince's voice does waver and Tank gets the overwhelming urge to run for the first time in a long time. Because he knows now. There is no way that he doesn't know.

"It was Tank"

There. He's said it.

Ranger's eyes cut to Tank like a missile target locking system, and he feels his organs beginning to shut down one by one in the vain hope it will save him from the ordeal to come.

He hopes Stephanie's a long way gone by now.

Note: The title Operation Neptune refers to the code name for the initial assault phase of the D-Day landings of the allied forces in June/July in 1944 during World War 2.