It must have looked like a plot out of the cheesiest American Television show around. It was a plan to get into the arms of Nikita, to spend sometime with my popsicle, and now, after the careful planning and whatnot, it turned out much different and not quite right.

It takes a lot for me to stay that it didn't turn out right, I'm not a man who looks at defeat as being a lose, but this time, I might have lost more than I bargained for.

I couldn't have pulled this kind of scam off of anyone else that knew me too well. I mean, Birkoff would have laughed in my face, and all the other ladies I knew, well, they are good for one night stands, not pretending to have a long lasting relationship with me. To think that I thought that this would work, that Nikita would find me more than just Mick the Snitch or something like that, because I wanted to make my Mumsy happy.

It was a plan like all the others. I needed Nikita to pose as a loving girlfriend of mine, so my mother could be proud of me. Nikita ate it up like a dog would eat steak if given the chance. She tried to play it off as being upset, but my popsicle had a soft spot for me and for mothers. We worked together in making the apartment look swell and of course my popsicle looked quite out of it while we were waiting, it could have been a wonderful evening.

If there was even a Mumsy.

By now, I think everyone would have known that I lie and I lie well. This time, I thought I was going to be caught, because when I'm desperate, it usually when I mess up, when the story falls apart. I created some elaborate scheme just to spend some time with my next door neighbor, Nikita, a dear heart and a sweetie. I was sure that I would walk over there tonight to get ready and the woman would look at me and proclaim that she knew that there was no Mumsy coming and that it was all a lie. In ways, I kind of wished that had happened.

It would have made me feel a lot better than I feel now.

I did have a Mumsy. She was a wonderful and strong mother, who raised me by herself for many years. She had me when she was 15 years old and dropped out of school to work in a drug store or something. I never really looked at what she had sacrificed in her own life to have me and to care for me, until it got too late. Time pushed along and I was a child who didn't want to work and would do anything to get out of working. I wanted fast money and riches, without lifting a finger.

My Mumsy, of course, remarried to a man named Jim. I gather he was a nice man, my Mumsy adored him, but we never got a long. I was an awkward teenager, who could barely read and was already starting to know what being a man felt like, really good. I never stuck around the house much, and I started to drift off from my Mumsy when she was having her second child with Jim. It was like I never was part of that family and she was probably glad to get rid of my presence, as she wouldn't want me screwing up the lives of her other children.

There was no fight and my Mumsy didn't throw me out onto the streets. I just moved away, keeping a little contact with her and the perfect family. She had everything that she wanted, and I was no longer in the picture. She had four children with Jim and Jim, being an important businessman or something, moved them to a nice neighborhood, into a nice house, and into a nice school. The last time I talked to my Mumsy, she barely even knew who I was when I said hello. We talked a bit and I found out that her eldest child with Jim was about ten years old. That girl must be graduating from high school by now.

So, I lied to Nikita, made her help me out with a scheme that wasn't even needed. My Mumsy has probably long forgotten me and given up on me. The last time I even had communication from her was when she sent a letter, asking me to server all ties from her. That letter arrived in jail when I was spending two months on some bogus charges. I tore the letter up and flushed it down the toilet.

Let her have that family.

Now, I am sitting here in my apartment, after my popsicle did something that no one else would have done. She was actually concerned about me, and now I feel really guilty.

Me, feel guilty? I never thought this day would come. I have felt regret in when I see some people hurting and I have felt disgust when I've had to work with Michael on a mission or two, but I never felt this. I never felt guilt like this.

It all falls back on this Mumsy issue. I personally knew that Nikita didn't have a Mumsy or someone like a Mumsy. Of course someone gave birth to her, but if that woman cared of her one bit, she would have given that sweet thing up to adoption or something better than what she did. The streets were Nikita's home, and that was wrong.

My popsicle never speaks about her Mumsy, but I have gathered some knowledge and now I see how I used it for my own benefit. I knew that Nikita would eat up my story, to help me in any way, because of what happened to her, and how she believes that a mother is important.

Shame on me!

The most I learned about Nikita and her Mumsy was one day, not long ago, when I was looking out my door. I was wondering where the tall lanky blonde had been. She had just been gone to long for my liking and I always worried about her. When I saw her, I knew that something was wrong.

You know when you see something and the world stops? Sometimes that happens when I see beautiful women, and it is something that I cherish. You can watch them walk slowly towards you, each sway of the body urging your body to react. Well, when I saw my darling on that day, the world stop, but not because she was beautiful, but because something was wrong and it was written across her face.

Her eyes looked like mothballs that had been dunked in red paint and then placed in her head again. It looked like she had been crying for hours upon hours and had barely been able to stop herself from crying again. The eyes were bulging out of her head like that when in American cartoons, the character's eyes pop out of the eye sockets in shock. That was exactly what Nikita looked like.

I'm never one to spy. I leave that to my friends inside of Section. I know that Walter and Birkoff have to be experts, but I couldn't let this go. I didn't know what had happened to my Nikita and I sure didn't want to think about what she may do. It scared me so much that I had to run off to the bathroom before I decided what to do.

Maybe the decision was made as I stood in front of the porcelain throne. Maybe it was made because I could hear through the walls the screams and the sobs that came from Nikita's mouth and through the walls.

Something about Section One, they set you up in nice places, not places with paper-thin walls. Thank god, or Nikita would have been having a fit with all the loud ladies I have. But, either way, for me to hear my popsicle, crying like that, I knew I had to watch her and that was when I heard that balcony slam open.

I followed her move, and moved out onto my balcony. I don't have plants or anything much on mine, but a few piece of furniture. For some reason, the women just don't like to have fun out in front of nature. But it came in handy, as I bent down so my popsicle couldn't hear me.

Then I started to get paranoid. I had to wonder if she was going to jump. I didn't know why else she would have come out onto the balcony. I was wondering if I should go and call someone, but then didn't know if the person I may call did this to Nikita. It was all jumbled in my head as I listened to her tears and her sobs, although not as loud as they must have been from inside of her apartment.

It felt like hours as I was hunched down on my balcony, before the black angel came into the picture to save the day. I couldn't see him there, but I just knew when Nikita gasped and then suddenly started to bawl like a child, that it had to be Michael that walked up behind her.

She mumbled a lot to Michael and only a little bit made sense to me. She was speaking about her Mumsy; about how the one good memory that she did have her Mumsy was dancing in an alleyway more than likely after her Mumsy sold her body in order to get a hamburger and nothing else. I was petrified as I heard those words.

That was a good memory?

I know that in the later years with my Mumsy that things got a bit strained and that now she doesn't want to know who I am and where I am, but things were never like that. I could think of thousands of good memories, especially when it was just me and my Mumsy. In fact, I can think of thousands of bad things that happened with my Mumsy that where better than Nikita's one good moment.

I remember as a child, going on a train. I used to love trains, at least, that was what my Mumsy told me. She said I collected them as a little boy. I hope that I did. Well, she took me on this train and it went really fast and soon we were at a zoo.

It was like something that I have never seen before and I still haven't seen like. Someone once said it was because I was a little child, that everything seemed bigger and better and more crowded. I have this image of being packed in with many other people and being one of the few children. I guess it was like the atmosphere that was found in Berlin when the wall came down. Everyone was pushing and tugging, but my Mumsy held my hand tightly and we followed the crowd.

We came to this huge cage, with these long tall bars of steel that separated us from the wild and dangerous life that was inside. I looked in and waited; only seeing trees and rocks. My Mumsy picked up my body and pointed towards the rocks, were a large Momma gorilla held a baby gorilla. I stared at it for hours, looking at the scene like it was better than anything else in the world was.

It was even better than ice cream.

My Mumsy didn't rush me like she normally did. We both stood there, with our hands wrapped around the railing, watching how the Momma gorilla took care of the little one. My Mumsy said that she would always care for me, that she once had to feed me like the Momma gorilla was feeding her baby. She bought me a shirt and we went off, back on the train and back home.

It was the best memory and sometimes, I just go to a zoo, especially when there is a newborn gorilla, to go and see it, to think back to my Mumsy and a time when she loved me. A time when I was my Mumsy's baby and a time when she cared about me.

Now, I would do anything to give my Nikita that experience, to let her have my Mumsy for that moment in time, to give her something good. She needs those moments and she never had them.

That is what made what I did today even worse. I lied and I knew it when I was pretending to be on the phone with my Mumsy. It was a friend from a bar, about three blocks away from Nikita's house. He made me pay him fifty bucks, but I hoped that it would be a night with Nikita, my popsicle.

I feel so guilty now, as I am nothing more than what everyone in Section One is to Nikita, evil.

No, I'm even worse than that. Michael at least lies and deceives Nikita because he is trying to protect her from something he can't even face himself. That dark angel will never get it right, I don't think, but he keeps her safe. He is a million times better doing that in comparison to what I did today.

I am the scum of the earth and I have done some pretty vial things in my life. This was the worse. I used Nikita.

I used my popsicle, and I did it not for her benefit, but for my benefit. I did it to satisfy my own itching need that is so wrong and so dangerous.

I knew that when I announced my Mumsy wasn't going to be coming that Nikita would feel sorry for me. I played her like any other target that I knew. I never did that with someone that I consider a friend. I looked at Nikita with those puppy eyes that I have worked on for years to get correct and knew them to be too correct.

How I wish that she would come over here and yell and me, saying that she knew that I was lying. How I wish that she would beat me to a bloody pulp, because I deserve it this time.

Mumsy is still important to me and I can't lie and say that I never think about her. I think about her often. I wonder if everyone is like that. I think my popsicle things about her Mumsy more than she lets on. I think she really thinks that the moment of being with her mother in the alley, dancing with her Mumsy, was the best thing to happen to her.

It isn't.

Michael is the best thing to happen to her. That damn dark angel, the prince of darkness, and all the other evil and nasty things you can say about the man that has no facial expression and can charm a chipmunk away from it's very last nut during a blizzard, was the best thing that ever happened to that sweet darling who dares to almost treat me human.

When I was a little child and I would feel this bad, I would have my Mumsy to go and run to. She would hold me and tell me that everything was going to be all right. She would rock me back and forth and stroke my hair.

"Oh my little Micky... all will be right... Oh my little Micky..." my Mumsy would say as she continued her movements. She would hold me there until my tears stopped or a feel asleep. Often, she would miss getting to work on time, because she would be holding me, loving me.

There is no one here to call me Micky now. There is no one here to old me. There is no one to stop my guilt.

The funny and ironic thing is that, Nikita would feel guilty for me feeling guilty. I could go and confess all of what I did tonight and she would smile and say that she understands. She would berate herself for not being a better friend towards me and I know that she would go out of her way to be nicer to me and spend time with me.

That is all that I wanted.

But I can't have that now.

I have to prove to my Mumsy that sometimes, you are wrong about your children.

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