Nikita steps into Madeline's new office and glances around. It is so different from her old one that she still cannot reconcile it in her mind as Madeline's office.

"What can I do for you Nikita?" Madeline asks as she continues to work on her Bonsai.

For a brief moment Nikita has a flash of Mortica Adams cutting the heads off of flowers but she refrains from sharing it.

"I was wondering Madeline . . ." Nikita trails off, suddenly uncertain of how to proceed.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering, would it be possible for me to get my mother's effects?" Nikita rushes out in one breath.

Madeline pauses, the little scissors hovering in mid-air. After a moment she continues with her shaping, "I'll see what can be done." she replies non-committally.

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

M is for the million things she gave me

Madeline hands Nikita a box, slightly larger than the average shoe box, maybe as big as a box for boots.

"Operations seems to be rather lenient with you in regard to your mother. Here are her effects. It's my understanding that she really didn't have that much, she was living on the streets when she entered the hospital. You are probably holding everything she still had."

"Thank you." Nikita doesn't look up at Madeline but instead stares fascinated at the box. What does it hold inside of it?

***********

O is only that she is growing old

Nikita looks at the small stack of letters and envelopes contained in the box. She hesitates for a moment feeling almost like she is sneaking a peek through her mother's personal possessions while she is out of the room. Shaking her head to clear those thoughts and sudden unexpected tears, Nikita takes the first envelope out of the box.

Contained in the envelope are several black and white grainy photos. The photographs are obviously of her mother. It is like looking into an antique mirror, some of the fine lines are wavy but the similarity is there. Next to her mother, in two of the pictures, is another woman, older but the resemblance is strong. Nikita's heart clenches at the realization that she is looking at pictures of her grandmother and in one picture, her grandfather. These photos are of a happier time, both her mother and grandmother are smiling. Her grandmother's arm is casually around her mother in a maternal hug. Even through the years and neglect, their happiness shines through the celluloid image.

Nikita closes her eyes and remembers her mother's face in the hospital - the multitude of lines and different tints of flesh bruised too many times to completely heal - and looks again at the photo. What happened to her mother? What did life do to her? How can someone who looks so happy end up so sad?

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

O - Part Two:snugglebunnies

Michael is already at their place in the park. It's a little hideaway that Section hasn't discovered yet. He is sitting with his back against a tree, his eyes closed against the sunshine and his hair blowing gently in the light breeze. His jacket is tossed to the side so that she can see his chest clearly outlined in his shirt.

Nikita pauses and appreciates the picture he makes before he senses her presence.

He opens his eyes and her breath catches in her throat at the look in his eyes. He seems so at peace and relaxed but his eyes are locked on her with a hungry appeal for something. Nikita experiences a moment of doubt of her ever being able to give Michael what he truly needs.

He holds a hand out to her with his fingers slightly curved, inviting her to join him. She places her hand in his and he gently pulls her down so that she is leaning back against him. He wraps his arms loosely around her. It is like coming home. She sighs and relaxes against him, her head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

After a few moments of enjoying each others company, Michael asks, "How's it going with your mother's things?"

Nikita snuggles deeper into his embrace and puts her hands on top of his. "I found some pictures. Pictures of my mother and her mother. She looks so happy. I can't believe it's the same woman who threw me out." She rubs her cheek against his shirt, feeling the smooth caress of silk and hard muscle underneath. "I wonder what happened to her?"

"You may never find out." Michael states, "Will you be okay with that?" A subtle shade of concern colors his voice.

Nikita is silent as she thinks about the question. What if she can't find the answers to her questions? What if time and life have erased the information that she needs? How important is knowing everything about her mother to her?

"I think so." she answers. "I'm more curious about her than anything else. Seeing her in the hospital like that brought home how different life is for everyone." as she says the words Nikita realizes they are the truth. She is curious about her mother, but it won't make any sweeping changes in her life. She is her own person, good or bad, or (with an inner smile) both.

Nikita turns in Michael's arms and smiles at him. "I never did thank you for allowing me time alone with my mother that night." She leans in to kiss him when his phone rings. "Damn. It has to be Operations, only HIS timing is this lousy."

"Nikita." Michael gently protests. "Umm, could you help me. My hands are asleep."

With a wicked smile Nikita pulls Michael's phone out of his jacket pocket, opens it and holds it to his right ear and then places her teeth gently on his left earlobe.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" Operations roars in the phone. He is so loud that Nikita can hear his teeth click together. "You have a briefing in 30 minutes, contact your team." Operations continues without pause but in a slightly quieter tone and then hangs up.

Nikita folds the phone and stores it back in his jacket, "Boy, he is rude!" She smiles at Michael and moves closer, "Why didn't you tell him that you were laying in the sun with Nikita and that you were planning on ..." she moves closer to him and begins whispering in his ear.

Michael's eyes gleam for a moment and then start to close as he listens to her description of the afternoon's plans.

"Kita. Stop." he groans and, having regained the feeling in his hands, gently moves her away from him. His hands unconsciously caressing her arms. He glances at his watch. "Now I'm going to have to speed to get back. Meet me back at Section." With determination, Michael moves away from Nikita, picks up his jacket and leaves.

With a pout, a flounce and a grin Nikita follows him.

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

T is for the tears shed to save me

Nikita stumbles back into her room at Section. Being up for forty-eight hours straight, running over 20 miles and being shot at can take a lot of you. All she wants to do is sleep. Barely staying awake for the shower she HAD to take, she reaches for the covering blanket to slip under when the box on the bed briefly catches her attention. The photos glisten dully in the overhead light. Despite her tiredness there is a measure of care and delicate handling in her touch as she puts the photos in their envelope and places the box and envelope on her desk.

======

Seated at her desk, a day later, Nikita pulls out the next envelope from the box. This envelope appears to have been opened and closed quite a bit and treated roughly on more than one occasion. She flips it over to read the front and reads the official Department of Corrections insignia. With a tight feeling in the pit of her stomach she pulls out the paper inside to discover two separate letters. One is on thick bond paper with an official letterhead stamped on it and the other is obviously written on cheap stationary available anywhere. Nikita opens the official letter first. Before she reads it, she looks at the obvious wear this letter has endured, it has been crumpled, apparently thrown into the trash, retrieved and liquid has been spilled or dripped on it in more than one place. She feels a little faint as she reads the first lines:

"Madame, we regret to inform you that your daughter, inmate #24579, Nikita Samuel, has died by her own hand on . . ."

Nikita swallows and looks away from the letter. It is a strange feeling to read about your own successful suicide, very unreal. Without reading the rest of the letter, Nikita folds it and places it back into the envelope.

She stares at the cheap stationary, considering. What would her mother have put with that letter?

======
***************

T-Part two

As Nikita stares at the paper, unable to bring herself to unfold it, someone knocks on her door. "Come in."

Michael walks in the room, dressed in his usual black carrying a bottle of Nikita's favorite mineral water. " I thought I'd drop by and see how you were doing."

Nikita takes the water with a smile, "Thanks." After a refreshing drink, she sighs, "I guess I'm doing okay. I hate close quarters standby, though. I really prefer my place. Doesn't it bother you to spend some much time here?"

Michael shrugs, "I'm not spending more time than normal here anyway, so I don't notice."

Nikita laughs sadly, "Michael, we have to get you a life."

Michael leans down, close enough to whisper, "I thought we were working on it."

Nikita looks at him and silently curses surveillance for making them hide every little move and moment.

Michael looks down at the desk, "What's this?" he nudges the unfolded paper with his finger.

Nikita looks down and shrugs, "Something my mother kept. ... Let's go work out."

"Aren't you curious? Is that a letter from the Department of Corrections?"

It's obvious, he is not going to let it drop, so Nikita gives in. "Yes. It's the notification of my 'suicide'."

"Oh."

They are both quiet as they contemplate the results that, that 'suicide' has had on their lives.

"Your mother kept it? With this?" he nudges the unfolded paper again.

"Yes." she nods.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

She looks at him, "I can't." she whispers.

Michael stares at her for a long moment, his eyes locked with hers trying to read the secrets hidden there.

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

T- Part Three

"I think you should look at it." Michael states. "She obviously thought it important enough to keep."

Nikita closes her eyes and wills the tears back. With a shaky breath and shakier hands, she opens her eyes, unfolds the paper and starts to read.

After a couple of lines, she throws it back down on the desk, "She was drunk! It's just the ramblings of a lush." she grits out in disgust, her eyes closed again. She will not cry. It's stupid to feel so let down. What did she expect?

Michael picks the paper up, after a moment he begins to read in his soft voice, "You must understand my daughter has a kind heart and a good soul. She would never have killed a police officer. I am asked that you reconsider your verdict and try her again. I am sure that some of the people who lived with her on the street seen something that would clear her."

Nikita, who had stiffened at the first words, sits mesmerized as Michael translates her Mother's ramblings.

"I know that as a Mother, I am prejudice but if you talk with Nikita, you will know I am right. Please give her another chance, she is a good girl." Michael's voice trails off.

For a long moment not a sound is heard in the room.

Michael places the letter back on her desk and curls a finger into Nikita's hair to gently tug it, "She's right you know, you are a good girl."

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

H is for her heart of purest gold

It's been a couple of days since she last looked in the box. Nikita has had a lot of conflicting feelings to work through regarding her mother. It seems that not everything is as it seemed. She smiles wryly to herself, she should be used to that by now.

Michael has been wonderfully supportive, letting her talk his ear off, offering advice when asked and not offering it when not asked and, surprisingly, so has Madeline. Although she has initially been hesitant to talk to Madeline, Nikita soon found herself testing theories and ideas against Madeline as a sounding board. For her part, Madeline had started out treating the discussions like a mental exercise, but it seemed that lately, Madeline was as involved with the whole process as Nikita was, oftentimes initiating the conversations.

Nikita stares down at the box, it only has a few things left in it. The items she has looked at so far have changed her perception of her mother quite a bit and she is a little fearful of what else she will find. So far nothing has struck Nikita as powerful enough to change her mother into the woman she knew. With a deep calming breath, she picks up the next envelope, this one is bulkier than the others and has something in it. With great care, she pulls the faded newspaper out and tips the envelope. Two golden wedding rings fall softly into her palm.

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

H - Part Two

Nikita fingers the rings, obviously a matched set. They gleam with broken promises and broken hearts. She looks at the newspaper articles that were saved with the rings. One is a wedding announcement of her mother and, she presumes, her father. Nikita looks at the announcement and the posed picture that accompanies it. They look so young! Had she ever been that young? Somehow she doubts it. For a moment she feels the old resentment of a childhood lost, but she forces herself to let it go. What will it help now?

With a sense of dread Nikita opens the second newspaper article, her mind already racing with the knowledge of what it is: her father's obituary. Although her hands are shaking, she reads that he died in what was called "This Decade's Worst Natural Disaster". According to the date, her mother was seven months pregnant at the time. Nikita wraps her arms around herself and feels the cold in her room.

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

H - Part Three

Birkhoff steps out of his room, stretching a little as he contemplates another day at the computer terminals. Off to save the world.

As he steps forward he hears a very distinct crunching sound. He has heard this sound numerous times before, but usually in the dark. Looking down, he sees that he has stepped squarely on an Oreo. It's creamy filling oozes out on either side of his shoe. It's crunchy cookie outside lays in mangled bits, spread over a piece of computer paper. A sad sight indeed.

"What the ....?"

Birkhoff eyes the cookie with distaste and sorrow. His eyes move ahead and he sees laid out in front of him, a long strip of tractor-feed computer paper heading down the hall with an Oreo posed seductively every two sheets. Bemusedly, Birkhoff follows the Oreo trail. The paper turns the corner and the way ahead is marked by a red Twizzler, shaped into an arrow.

Intrigued by this very strange path Birkhoff continues following. Glancing up as the last Oreo comes into sight, Birkhoff sees Nikita standing in the hallway, leaning against the doorway, holding a bag of double-stuffed Oreos. "I need a favor." she whispers as she jiggles the bag suggestively.

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

E is for eyes with lovelight shining

Humming to herself, Nikita looks down at the letter and photograph she holds in her hand. Madeline had found the letter very interesting, but had been fascinated by the photo. Nikita had to admit to herself that she was entranced by it also.

Stopping, she looks again at the photo. It is a picture of her mother holding her as a baby. Despite the fact that she had already begun drinking, it had not caught up with her as of yet, or maybe she was sober at this time. Either way, there she was looking at her baby daughter like the world had given her the most precious gift in the world. Nikita looks again. It is very hard to pull her eyes away, for it is proof that, at one time, her mother loved her. She could hardly wait to show Michael.

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

E - Part Two

Michael and Nikita lay in the park, each recovering from their turbulent lovemaking as best as they can. They are laying on a bed of carelessly discarded clothes and the soft ground.

Michael watches the sun glisten and play with Nikita's hair, alternating between halo and blinding light. She curls closer to him, seeking his warmth as she falls into a light nap. How she can still trust him is a question he will never be able to answer. She tells him that there is light within him, he just won't let himself see it. She is optimistic for all of the light comes from within her. It is light that is growing brighter as a result of her journey to know her mother instead of suffering as he had first feared it would. With a slight smile as he smooths her hair back as he remembers their conversation:

"She wrote me a letter. She apologises for letting her need for alcohol to control her to extent that it did. It's very strange." Nikita stops talking and wrinkles her forehead.

Michael, sensing her need to continue, prompts, "How is it strange?"

"Well," she searches for the words, "She apologises but she never excuses herself. She never grovels or denies or sinks into self-pity. It just is. She explained that one of the steps of AA is to acknowledge the damage you have done and make amends if possible."

"And could she make amends?"

"No, of course not. I was dead and ... there really is no way to make amends for throwing me out, is there?"

"Is there?"

"No. It just is."

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

R is for right and right she'll always be (end)

Nikita closes the last page of Birkhoff's report and smiles to herself. It was definitely worth the Oreos and Twizzlers to discover what she could about her father and, in a way, her mother. They were high school sweethearts, married after attending college. Her father had inherited a small dairy farm in northern Australia and that's where he and his wife had settled. Both of them had been known around their community for their good deeds and commitment to "fair play". Nikita had truly appreciated reading that, remembering her torture by Red Cell.

She sighed, she would never know everything and in the realm of a lifetime, she did not know much, but she knew something. That was more than she had before and . . .

Regrets never changed anything.

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