Nikita walks out of Madeline's office intent on a hot shower. The Q & A's that Madeline has been subjecting her to recently are exhausting and all she wants to do is relax.

As she strides past Birkhoff's station he pauses with an oreo halfway to his mouth, "Nikita, Operations wants to see you."

"Why?"

Nikita and Operations have been dancing around each other like wrestlers squaring off since her return and she doesn't feel comfortable in his presence. More than Madeline he seems to know every secret she has.

"He didn't say, just that you are supposed to report to him after you are finished with Madeline." Birkhoff continues to munch on his oreos, his attention really fixed on the latest game of Quake and not this conversation.

With a sigh, Nikita complies with the directive and heads for Operations' perch.

Upon entering his office, Nikita sees Operations turn off his computer and open a file sitting on his desk, "Ah, Nikita, come on in." he smiles a pseudo-friendly smile and instantly puts Nikita on guard.

"I have some information that you might find interesting."

Immediately Nikita begans her deep breathing. They might suspect, but there is no way they can prove anything. She tells herself.

"Before we discuss that, however, let me clarify a few things. As you know, you are on close quarter standby ... until we feel that you are ready to go out again."

She nods but doesn't say anything.

"Usually once someone enters Section, their other life ends and we become their world. Usually." Operations starts to pace around the room.

"However, sometimes there are certain exceptions. I'm not completely heartless you know."

Nikita wisely keeps silent.

"It's due to your help with Stephen that I am making this exception. We have found your mother. She is in a local hospital and she is dying."

************

Nikita stares blankly at Operations for a moment while her mind absorbs what he has said and processes it so that it makes sense. Then a coldness engulfs her heart and utter disregard fills her expression.

"And?" she questions, not realizing the utter chill which fills her voice.

Even Operations is taken back by this unexpected response. "Well. ... I just wanted to let you know this information and inform you that I have granted you special clearance to go visit her if you would like. There are certain conditions, of course. Madeline will fill you in on all of the details." He pauses, appearing to be unsure of what to say next. Nikita is not responding in the predicted way and he does not know what to do about this reversal of action.

"Is that all you needed to see me about?" Nikita asks politely, rising to leave.

"Yes."

Nikita walks out of the door without another word or backward glance.

Operations hand shakes slightly as he lights up his smoke and watchs Nikita walk out of the Section main area, obviously heading for her quarters. A buzz interrupts his thoughts.

"How did she take the news?" Madeline asks quietly. Her voice contains curiousity about both the information and the reason that Operations felt the need to impart it instead of letting her do so.

"She said one word."

"What?"

"And? She apparently does not care."

"Nikita? Did you tell her that her mother was dying?"

"Yes, I told her, her mother was dying." Operations answers his voice testy in response to being questioned.

Madeline ignores his tone and ponders, "I was sure that Nikita would have a more ... more emotional response to the news. I wonder why she didn't? Hmmm?" Madeline turns off the intercom.

  ------

Nikita walks back into her room and heads immediately for the shower. Her mind refusing to acknowledge that she feels anything about the situation. Who cares that her mother is dying? Who cared that she was even still alive? Her mother obviously did not care about her. She threw her out in favor of her "current" boyfriend. She didn't even come to my funeral.

"I don't care! I don't care!" Nikita screams through her teeth, ignoring the tears that stream down her face and join the shower. "I don't care! I don't care!"

************

Michael stands outside of Nikita's Section room and listens. He has knocked twice and has received no reply.

Madeline had called him into her office and told him that Nikita's mother had been found and that she was dying. She had also told him Nikita's decidely unusual unemotional response to this news. She wanted him to find out what was going on.

He raises his hand again to knock and admits to himself that knocking won't help. With a sigh he pulls out the key to the door and lets himself silently into her room.

Nikita is sitting on her bed wearing a towel and looking down at her feet. Her hair is still wet and her arms and legs glisten with water.

"Nikita?" Michael approaches slowly, carefully. Even though the operative part of her must realize he is in the room, she is not reacting.

"Hmm?" She continues to look at her feet, wiggling her toes a little. Her tone is one of casual disinterest.

Michael starts to reply when a series of violent sneezes shake Nikita's frame. Instead of speaking, he goes to the bathroom and grabs two more towels. Returning to her side, he holds the towels out to her, "You need to dry off. It's not good for you to sit around sopping wet."

Nikita looks up at him and her sad, red-rimmed eyes tear at his heart. Madeline was quite wrong in her estimation that Nikita was emotionally unaffected by the news. She looks completely lost and alone.

"Wet?" It is obvious that Nikita has no idea what he is talking about.

Reminding himself to think only of her need, Michael gently wraps one of the towels around Nikita's head encasing her hair in a makeshift turban and begins to briskly rub the other towel over her arms, shoulder and neck. Nikita allows him to do so, all the while looking at him in a distracted fashion.

It doesn't take but a few strokes for Michael to notice that the towel she is wearing is literally soaking wet. He wonders briefly if she even turned off the shower before she put it on.

"Stand up, please." He asks quietly, gently.

Nikita stands on his command and looks at him.

He looks in her eyes and holds his towel up, "Can you do this?"

She looks at him, looks at the towel and looks at him again. "Do what?" She trusts him, but Michael doubts that she knows who he is right now or what is happening.

Michael kneels down in front of her standing form and rubs her legs dry. His hands shaking a little the higher they go. Suddenly he stops, draws a deep breath and stands back up. He looks her in the eye and removes the towel she is wearing and replaces it. His eyes never leave her face.

He walks her over to her desk and sits her down. With quick mechanical movements he peels the wet sheets off of her bed and replaces them. His only concern right now is Nikita.

When he returns to where she is sitting he gently unwraps the towel around her hair and starts to lightly rub it dry. It glistens like liquid gold in his fingers, lightening gradually as it dries. With a plea for inner strength he retrieves a brush from the bathroom and brushes the tangles out of her hair. This is not the time to think about how often he has fantasized about doing something like this.

During all of this, she has said not a word but continues to look at her toes, wiggling them to some internal rhythm. He leads her back to the bed. She follows him trustingly.

"Lay down and sleep. You need the rest." He covers her reclining form with a light blanket and starts to turn away.

"Wait." she pleads grabbing ahold of his hand. "Don't leave me. Promise you won't leave me." Her voice holds the terror of a child afraid of the dark, afraid of being alone, afraid.

"I won't. I'll stay here."

"With me." she tugs at his hand, trying to pull him into the bed with her.

"With you." he lays down by her side, on top of the blanket, his hand still held by hers.

She smiles and closes her eyes.

'Kita, what did that woman do to you?' Michael watches over her as Nikita finally allows herself to sleep.

************

Nikita woke the next morning feeling warm and secure. She had dreamed about a woman gently humming to her as she tickled her toes. She had been a child in her dream and this briefly puzzled her because she rarely dreamed of herself that way. Still somethng about that dream had felt 'right' and Nikita hummed the same lullabye softly to herself as she dressed for her day.

  -----

Madeline looked at Michael and reminded herself that she did not show impatience. She was patience personified, but she was going to kill him if he did not get to the point!

"I think that your interpretation of Nikita's response is wrong." Michael finally says outloud. He waits for her reaction.

"Why is that?"

"She was very obviously distressed when I went to see her, almost catatonic."

"What?! Why didn't you notify me?"

"I said 'almost' catatonic. She responded to me. She did what I asked. She was just ... just somewhere else. I saw her already this morning and she seems fine, almost peaceful."

"First you say distressed, then "almost" catatonic and now you say peaceful, which is it Michael?"

"Well, she had been crying, that much was obvious. But she was very placid and submissive when I was with her. I don't believe she knew who I was or even where she was, but she didn't fight me either."

Madeline looks down at her desk while she mentally compares Michael's description of Nikita and the survelliance tapes she watched this morning. She would have to agree with his perceptions.

"And this morning?"

"She was humming to herself and was harassing Birkhoff when I saw her." She also obviously did not remember clinging to me throughout the night, Michael thought to himself. However, this is not something he felt needed to be mentioned to Madeline.

"What should we do about this, Michael?" Madeline surprises him by asking.

For a moment Michael can't believe that the Master Manipulator has asked him for advice, but his concern for Nikita overwhelms any cynical response. "I would say that she has probably locked the news out of her mind and last night she escaped from the reality of it for a while."

"I think she needs to talk to this woman. She needs to confront her past and the turmoil that it still within her. Maybe as an adult who has lived in a world of shades of grey she can see things differently."

Michael swallows a sigh, "I agree. She needs to confront her own demons about her mother."

"Now the real question is, how do we make her do this?"

************

Madeline called Nikita into her office later that day following her training. She could tell by the reluctant way Nikita entered that she thought she was going to be subjected to another series of psychological tests and games. Well, she was almost right.

"When are you going to go see your mother? I understand Operations told you that there were some conditions and I am ready to tell you all about it." Madeline begins the conversation briskly.

Nikita flinched and then blanched. Sometimes Madeline was as subtle as Transit. Clasping her hands tightly in front of her, Nikita looks at Madeline, "I won't be seeing my mother."

Madeline frowns at Nikita and pulls up a data screen on her computer. "I think you need to see her Nikita and it should be soon. According to the hospital, she doesn't have much longer." Madeline moves the monitor so that the picture of her mother is right in Nikita's line of vision.

Nikita stares for a moment and then looks away. "Why should I see her?" she questions, her voice trembling a little.

"You need to see her Nikita." Madeline's voice softens. "You need to talk to her as an adult. You need to understand what she did and maybe why."

"I understand what she did! She threw me out for some man who probably didn't even stay with her!" Nikita hisses through clenched teeth. "What's there to understand? That I wasn't as important as her next lay, or next bottle or next fix or anything!"

Madeline watches as Nikita jumps up and runs to the door. She is tugging frantically on the door handle but, of course, it won't open.

"Let me out, Madeline. Let me out!" she pleads.

After a few moments Nikita realizes that she can't get out and leans against the door and begins to sob, bodywracking, soul-shattering sobs. "What's there to understand?" she repeats over and over in a soft voice.

Madeline walks over to Nikita's slumped sobbing form and looks down at her. Then kneeling she awkwardly takes Nikita into her arms. Nikita curls into her embrace and continues to cry. Any other time and she would have laughed out loud about Madeline being a 'real' mother figure, but at this moment it feels good.

Madeline rocks her gently and smoothes her hair out of her face. Gradually Nikita's sob quiet and finally die. She lays in Madeline's arms and catches her breath, hiccuping slightly.

"Nikita," Madeline whispers, "You are an adult now. You know that the world can beat people down, make them cold, make them hard, scare them behind walls, make them believe they are worthless. You know it can do this to people, look around you. You still retain your humanity in a place that drains it out of people. You saved a part of yourself that I believe your mother lost. Go and talk to her child, see her as an adult, see her as an innocent that didn't make it out. Go see her."

Nikita clutches at Madeline tightly for a moment and then releases her with a sigh. "All right."

************

Nikita slows opens the window to her mother's hospital room. One of Operations' conditions had been that she could not visit during regular visiting hours in case she was seen by someone. So here was Nikita breaking into a hospital to see her mother.

She walks quietly over to the bed, half hoping that her mother was asleep and she would have an excuse to leave. Her mother is awake and watching as this silent ghostly apparition creeps towards her.

Nikita gazes down at the face so like her own and yet so unlike hers. The blonde hair is the same and the cheekbones are the same. But her mother has different eyes and a different life is reflected in them.

Nikita knows from what Madeline told her that her mother is dying of cancer. Lymphoid cancer that is untreatable and so she opted to not undergo chemotherapy. Still the ravages on her mother's face seem strangely familiar and Nikita realizes that her mother looked almost this bad when she was with her.

"Who are you?" her mother asks. No fear in her voice, merely curiousity.

"Nikita." Nikita swallows the lump in her throat at the first sound of her mother's voice in years. She also swallows the taste of bitterness that her mother doesn't even recognize her until she sees the cloudy reflection in her eyes and understands that her mother probably does not see much anymore.

"Nikita." her mother breaths the name, "I'm dead then? I'm not surprised that you're an angel, but I am surprised that I get to see you. I thought for sure I wouldn't be seeing any angels on the other side."

Nikita says nothing for a moment. "You are not dead. I have some questions and ... I ... wanted to see you."

Her mother is quiet as she listens to Nikita's words. "What do you want to know?"

Nikita sucks in a big breath and looks toward the window. Outside she can see the shadowy figure of Michael perched on the ledge. He was supposed to accompany her into the room but instead he remained outside giving her the time and freedom for this moment.

"Why?" Nikita asks baldly. "Why did you kick me out? Why didn't you look for me later? Why didn't you come to my funeral? Why?"

Her mother sighs and looks away as tears begin to silently roll down her cheeks, "I was afraid you would ask that." she pauses, "Because I was ... I am sick. I am an Alcoholic. I spent all of my time looking for my next drink. It was the only thing I cared about. All I could think about was that drink. I only needed one more you know, then everything would be fine, just one more." Her voice breaks and her words stalls out.

Nikita stares at this woman who lies before her and listens to the utter disgust and self-loathing in her voice.

"I threw away my daughter for a drink, I threw away my life for a drink. Everything I did, I did for my own selfish need for alcohol."

"How long have you been sober?"

"Since I heard you died." Her mother is openly sobbing now. "It suddenly hit me that my daughter was gone. I would never see her again, never tell her that I loved her. She was gone and it was my fault! I became sober then, but it was too late, too late!" She is sobbing uncontrollably.

Nikita looks at the ravages of time and life on her Mother's face, hears the truth and terrible consequences that her mother has had to face and sees the shades of grey. She can no longer hate this woman for that would be a cruelty in itself, instead she feel pity for this woman and sorrow for what they have both lost.

Nikita stays by her bedside until her mother falls asleep. No more words are spoken between the two of them but her mother does softly hum a familiar lullabye that wraps around one of Nikita's happy memories and protects it.

************

Nikita doesn't say much on the way back to Section and Michael doesn't ask.

  ----------

Madeline watches as Nikita walks into her office the following day. She seems more relaxed, almost happy.

"Madeline before we begin, I would like to request another visit with my mother."

Madeline looks at her monitor and the paper that is printing and then back at Nikita. "I'm afraid that is not possible Nikita. Your mother passed away today."

Nikita sits down on the couch. "Oh."

"I'm sorry." Madeline softly whispers.

Nikita nods, "Actually, I need to thank you Madeline. You were right I did need to see her."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Madeline gets up and retrieves the paper from her printer as she walks towards Nikita.

"No, not yet, if you don't mind." Nikita whispers.

Madeline pats her shoulder, "We can talk about it later, I understand." Madeline looks at the paper in her hand, folds it, turns away and then turns back, obviously having come to a decision. "I don't know if you will want or need this, but you might find it interesting." She hands Nikita the paper and walks out of her office.

Nikita watches her leave. Only when the door closes behind Madeline does she look at the paper in her hand. More curious than afraid, Nikita unfolds the paper. It is clearly a copy of a page from her mother's medical chart. It takes a minute to decipher but Nikita reads the second to last entry with tears in her eyes:

"Patient seems very happy today. Told the morning shift that an angel visited her last night and she finally got to tell her daughter the truth."

  ----

"What will you tell Madeline?" Michael questions.

Nikita snuggles closer into his arms and closes her eyes, "The truth."

"And what is the truth? Did you forgive her?"

She opens one eye, sees the concern in his eyes and sits up so that they are eye-to-eye, "I needed to see her Michael. She never asked for forgiveness, maybe she knew I couldn't forgive her for what she did or maybe she didn't think she was entitled to it. I don't know. But I can understand, in a way, why she did what she did. Mostly what I learned from talking with her and listening to her is that I can't hold on to my past and give it priority. I can't make it more important than the present and the future. I have to allow it to remain in the past and accept that it happened, right or wrong. Because regrets don't change things." She sees understanding in his gaze and snuggles back into his arms.

"I'm glad you got to see her."

"Me too."

-----

Thanks to Zm for her excellent and simple (needed) directions on how to post.

Thanks also to everyone who encouraged me, especially the other authors I so enjoy.

Dedication: To my mother - 3/24/24-9/24/97 - I miss you mom.

Send suggestions and comments to ranma.