Always There

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, but am grateful to JE for inventing them for us to play with. Unlike JE, I am not making any money from them either

A/N: Thank you sooo much for the fabulous responses yet again. I've tried to get back to as many as possible so apologies if you haven't heard from me – I will get to you I promise.

This one is for Margaret. You got me thinking that's for sure! It may not be quite what you were after but I hope you enjoy my take on it

Chapter 3

Thoughts

Helen looked up as her husband entered their cosy kitchen. He could see the sadness in her face, the stress of the situation they found themselves in making her usually smooth features look suddenly older. He had always found himself thankful that his wife had taken after her father's side of the family and not Edna's in the looks department; even in his later years his father-in-law had a smooth skin and sparkling blue eyes, his Eastern European heritage clear in his face. Frank checked himself, suddenly feeling uneasy with thinking about Edna in that way. He turned his attention back to his wife.

"You ok?" has asked gently.

Helen stroked the photo album absently and shrugged.

"For some reason I'd thought she'd go on forever, but now….well, I guess not and that's something I've got to face and accept…" her voice trailed off.

Frank's eyes narrowed as he took a seat.

"But, there's something else too isn't there?" he prompted.

Helen looked up sharply.

"You mean my mother dying isn't enough?"

"Helen. You're not a stupid woman and I've been married to you for a very long time. I know there's something else. Please give me some respect for that."

He watched as Helen bristled – he never spoke to her like that - and then as her shoulders sank, realising he wasn't going to let this go.

She looked again at the photo album and turned it towards him.

"Remember this?" she asked quietly.

Frank put his glasses on and peered at the aged photograph, a small smile passing over his face.

"Point Pleasant, Stephanie must have been, what, four there?"

"Five. And they were inseparable. Do you recall the mischief they got in to? Mother let her go on those trampoline things so she could pretend to fly…"

"And made her a crown out of aluminium foil so that she could feel like a princess when having a pony ride."

The kitchen filled with a nostalgic silence.

"What is she going to do without her Frank?" said Helen suddenly. "I mean, those two, much as they are responsible for sending me grey and the majority of the 'phone calls we get, have a bond – more than I have with either of them."

Frank let the enormity of that simple statement sink in.

"Is that what this is about Helen? Are you jealous of the relationship Edna has with Stephanie?" Frank asked, shock in his voice. Had he really missed this?

Helen studied her spotlessly clean table.

"I…I could never…. I never knew how to handle Stephanie. She was, well different. She couldn't do anything that other little girls did – that Valerie could. I mean, she tripped the other girls up at ballet, burned everything and anything she tried to cook, blew up the motor in my sewing machine just making a cushion cover. She played with dolls but used them as 'cops and robbers' and Wonderwoman. Honestly Frank, I didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to relate to her. But mother, she knew. She understood Stephanie in a way I never could. My own child! And it continued as she grew up. Yes, she went to college, but only Stephanie would get a job in a mob related business and then become a bounty hunter. I mean a bounty hunter for goodness sake!"

Frank chuckled to himself at the memories.

"It's alright for you to laugh Frank, but you didn't have to endure the whispering, the gossip – the pity. 'Poor Helen having Stephanie. That girl's as wild as her hair. At least she has Valerie.' I tried Frank, I really did. I let her try everything, hoping that there would be something she was good at, something to be proud of, something that I could hold my head up about. But there never was."

Helen took a deep breath – she was in full flow now.

"I thought it would get better as she grew up, married, settled down, had a family. But then she caught Joseph Morelli's eye and ended up being the laughing stock of the Burg again. I thought it was all finished when she married Dickie. But no, even that was over within months."

"But that wasn't Stephanie's fault," interrupted Frank. "It was Orr who cheated on her."

Helen seemed not to hear, seeming to be lost in thought.

"I know," she said softly. She looked up at her husband, unshed tears in her eyes. "Do you know what else I know Frank?"

He shook his head.

"That I failed her. I failed my own daughter. It was my mother who held her hand, made the hot chocolate, bought the Boston Cremes, sat up with her when she cried. It was mother who defended her to the Burg. Do you remember the day that we found out about that awful graffiti that Joseph had put all over town?"

Frank shuddered.

"I couldn't bring myself to go out shopping that day, I was so ashamed. But not mother. She said that that dreadful poem said more about Joseph than it did about Stephanie and it was Angie Morelli who should be ashamed. That it was her who should have brought her son up better, with some respect. She said that Stephie had only done what young women for centuries had done, falling for good looks and sweet words, and that she didn't deserve the way he had treated her. She said Joe was the coward for writing that stuff when he was going away so he wouldn't have to face anything." She paused briefly. "She went and told Angie and Bella as well you know?"

Frank looked at his wife astonished. He too had been as guilty as his wife that day.

"Oh, yes," continued Helen, "mother said she had to nip this in the bud, so she went over there and gave Angie Morelli a piece of her mind. Of course Bella got involved and her and mother go into it on the Morellis' doorstep with half the street watching. From what I can gather Bella started going on about putting the 'eye' on Stephanie for leading her beloved Joseph astray and mother cut her off at the knees telling her she would be better putting her eye on Joe to stop him from turning into his no good father! Why do think they hate each other so much?"

"I never knew any of this," uttered Frank slowly.

Helen blew out a tired breath.

"No, but then you never really took much of an interest in the girls did you Frank?" she replied with surprisingly no accusation in her voice.

"That's not fair Helen," he retorted angrily.

"Oh, I'm not saying you weren't a good father and husband Frank. You always were, you always provided and I've been proud to have you as a husband, a husband that didn't drink too much and always worked."

Frank didn't know where she was going with this. Suddenly he didn't recognise the woman he had known for so long.

"It's the way we were brought up; a man works to provide for his family.." he started.

"And the woman keeps a nice home, brings the children up and cooks…" added Helen wistfully.

"Don't knock it, it works. Has done for centuries."

"Does it Frank? Maybe. I'm not so sure. It didn't work for Stephanie did it?"

Frank was confused.

"I don't know what you're saying Helen."

"I'm saying that you're right, it's the way we were brought up. My family came from Hungary after the war, determined to start a new, better life, determined to fit in. They did that by living like the people around them. It mattered what people thought Frank. It mattered that these strange immigrants were seen to keep a clean, tidy home, that the children were spotless and polite, that the marriages were faithful, that they went to church, didn't get into debt…and it didn't matter where you originated from, everyone had to fit in the same."

"But half the Burg didn't fit into those things Helen," he countered, even though he knew her words were true.

"That's not the point Frank," she shot back, her frustration beginning to show. "You had to be seen to do the right thing. Do you know how the infamous Burg gossips started?" It was a rhetorical question so she barrelled on. "The social centres where people from the 'old country' met up. For one night or afternoon a week, people could drop their masks, speak their own language, be with others that understood, shared their struggles, to stick together in a community where they belonged - and gossip about the others. As time went on the pot really did begin to melt and before you knew it, origins didn't matter, everyone spoke English anyway, but that just opened the door on the gossip. But standards had to be kept Frank. You could still get a reputation. It was important to keep a family's social standing."

"I'm sorry Helen, I still don't understand…."

"Stephanie. I couldn't help but think that she was deliberately trying to ruin this family's reputation. Always on the front page, the 'Bombshell Bounty Hunter', her relationship with Joseph, then Ranger, even Lula, a….well you know what she used to do," she muttered. "But then, well now, seeing mother lying in that bed, seeing Stephanie so dedicated, in so much pain. It became so clear to me."

"What did? We always knew Edna and Stephanie were close…"

"Yes, but why Frank? Because I never allowed her to be who she needed to be. I was always making excuses for her when I should have just said 'that's my Stephanie'. Yes, of course I don't want her to be in danger and it's hard to hear the constant gossip about her, but mother was the one who did that, who stood up for her. I often wondered what turned her from a Burg wife to the exhibitionist she has become since living with us. And do you know what I think? It was realising that it didn't matter what anyone thinks, not really. With daddy gone she didn't have to play a part, she was getting older and Stephanie was living what mother thought was an exciting life – one that she had wanted but could have never had."

Frank took a moment to think about Helen's words. Where had all this come from?

"It should have been me Frank. I should have been the one to hold her hand, encourage her to follow her dreams, not marry that fool Orr. Instead, I've been the fool. I pushed her towards Joseph, didn't approve of Ranger, hated her job and always thought that I knew what it would take to make her happy."

"You've been a good mother Helen," Frank said gently, trying to reassure her.

"Have I?" she answered wistfully. "Yes, I kept her clean, she had nice clothes, toys, good food, I made sure her homework was done on time, that she attended Mass regularly. But seeing her with mother….what they have is something different, something borne out of, well love. Not duty."

Frank was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with this conversation.

"Stephanie knows you love her Helen, just like you know she loves you."

The look that crossed Helen's face made him blanch.

"Do I Frank?" she said sadly. "Yes, she loves me but is it because she has to – I'm her mother - is that all it is? Heaven knows I haven't earned it. Why has it taken my mother being in the last months of her life to show me that my own daughter has a heart of gold? Why has it taken a man like Ranger to show me the impact Stephanie has on people? When he gave us those cell 'phones so the hospital could always contact us, he told me things. I had no idea how much she helped Lula, Mooner and the other people she came across. I didn't know that the men who work for him loved her so much, looked out for her and tried to keep her safe. I mean, how did she even get to know a man with a flaming skull tattooed on his forehead? I don't know her at all Frank and do you know what scares me most?"

Frank could say nothing. Helen looked up at him, the tears finally falling.

"Is it too late?"

ooOoo

Bach or Chopin Nocturnes. These were the pieces of music that he turned to when he needed to think, to find some peace, some space in his head. At the moment it was the famous Prelude from the Bach 'Cello Suite in C minor. 'Yo Yo Ma', he thought absently as he sat back in his large leather chair allowing the music to wash over him.

A soft knock at the door brought an unwelcome interruption, but then he hadn't thought that his best friend would leave him alone for too long. Tank and he hadn't spoken, other than about work, for close to a week. Ranger had been going backwards and forwards to the hospital to see Steph every evening as well as doing what had to be done at RangeMan too.

The big man entered the apartment surprisingly quietly and held up both hands so Ranger could make his choice. Ranger nodded to the right and Tank smiled, taking both bottles to the kitchen where he made short work of getting out two balloon glasses and pouring both men a drink from the Remy Martin bottle – the twelve year old single malt would see another day.

They sat in an easy silence as they gently swirled and warmed the brandy up before both taking a satisfying sip.

"So," started Tank.

"So indeed," came the reply.

"How's our girl holding up?"

Ranger shrugged.

"She's as well as can be expected I guess. You know Steph. She's there with her grandmother and wouldn't be anywhere else, yet at the same time wants to run as far as she can and pretend it's not happening."

"Understandable this time though."

Ranger looked up. "It is, but it wouldn't help and if she did, she wouldn't be able to live with the guilt. Damned if she does, damned if she doesn't."

"At least you've made life a bit easier for her, delivering those things to the hospital."

"I hope so. It's the least a friend can do."

Tank looked at Ranger closely.

"Friend?"

"Nothing else." Ranger's voice was flat.

"You sure about that because seemed to me you'd made a decision…?" Tank let the question fade.

"I had. But ….well, things are different now."

"How so? Ok, so Edna's probably not going to find her way out of this one, but that doesn't change how you and Steph feel about one another."

Ranger took a large sup of the brandy, enjoying the smooth burn at the back of his throat.

"Yes, but the timing. I can't make a move on Steph when her grandmother is dying! That's wrong. Now is not the time to be thinking about a relationship with Stephanie."

Tank raised an eyebrow.

Ranger blew out a breath then looked back at his friend.

"Let's say that we get together now? Then Edna dies. Steph will need the support sure, but then what? She'll look back, see that she was vulnerable and either hate me for using that against her at a difficult time or – and knowing Steph this is more likely – feel that she somehow trapped ME into a relationship when I was just being a good friend. So I'm screwed either way. I know I've been an opportunist where Stephanie is concerned but I will not take advantage of this situation."

"So, what are you going to do?"

He sank back in his chair.

"Just be there. Make sure she's ok, keep her safe, do what I can, meet the needs I can and support her any way I can - and hope to hell it's enough."

Tank chuckled. "In other words, do what you always do."

"Do what I always do."

A/N 2: Also wanted to say thank you to those – especially the 'guests' - who are shared your stories. As you probably guessed, this is mine – well parts of mine. I appreciate that this touches a nerve, but thank you for reading anyway.