Nicky bolted breathlessly towards the hospital doors, not caring that the cold December night air burned her lungs. If she was in pain, then she knew this was real - and she knew that the pain would only get worse from here on out. "Galina Reznikov." Nicky barked to the receptionist, wild eyes darting around the room. The condescending smile she got in return did nothing to comfort her. Instead, it enraged her and she wanted to rip the computer from the desk and smash it into a million pieces. Instead, she dug her nails into her palms and bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

"Room 203." The receptionist managed apathetically, throwing Nicky a lazy, pseudo sympathetic smile. Nicky didn't wait to say thank you. What would she have been thanking for? As she rushed off, the corridors passed in a busy blur. People had their own tragedies to concentrate on; they didn't care that Nicky rushed through the halls like a bloodhound looking for its target. The room wasn't difficult to find, and as she ripped the door open, she saw a flash of red hair fanned out on a pillow.

"Why didn't you tell me this morning?" Nicky asked tearfully, her head held in her hands as she was immediately at her bedside. Bile rose in her throat as she saw all the wires, all of the lines that must have appeared overnight because Red, her larger than life mama, looked old. "I could have helped. I would have come home." I would have done anything.

Red gave Nicky a weak smile. "Nothing you could have done would have made my heart beat properly." Red said feebly. She licked her lips and attempted to continue despite the searing pain that shot through her like electric shocks. She had refused more pain medication than she was allowed. She had wanted to be at least lucid when Nicky had come to say goodbye. "Besides," she said, closing her eyes for a moment just to gain enough strength to finish the sentence. "I don't believe in getting sick."

Nicky dragged a chair over to the bed and knelt on it, the upper half of her body lying on the bed. Lying over Red. The words she had said so many times before, now parroted back at her. It made her feel sick. Sobs rose in her chest as she tried to stop the tears from flowing. As she unsuccessfully tried to stay positive.

Do you believe in dying?

As soon as the thought entered her head, she broke down. The facade that she'd built of having even a little bit of self restraint came crumbling down as she let the tears pour. Red felt powerless to comfort her child. There was nothing she could say to make this better...but she was going to try. She would always try. "Malyshka," Red managed, her own voice choked with tears, "I know it's hard. But this day was always going to come." The words were hollow even to her and she knew it wasn't what Nicky needed to hear.

Nicky shook her head hopelessly, and Red watched her only daughter spiral further into denial. She had always forbidden any talk about death. Always brushed it off as morbid. Red's fingers raked through Nicky's hair. Something familiar. Red tilted Nicky's chin up so she was facing her. Tear stained cheeks made her look so young as those doe eyes looked up at her despairingly. "You are going to be okay, Nicky. I promise you. For Samantha." Red smiled faintly despite the awful situation. Her granddaughter would always make her feel like smiling. Samantha Galina. The smile faded as she faced Nicky again, her tone pleading. "She needs her mama."

Nicky's howls could have been heard in every room. What about me? She screamed inside of her head. I need my mama! "I need you, Red. I've always needed you." Nicky said desperately. She pressed her forehead against Red's pale, sweaty brow, her breaths coming quickly and raggedly and Red's coming less and less frequently, rattling in her chest. "No, please, Red," Nicky said, hands desperately scrabbling for Red's. "I love you. Please don't leave me. Take me with you. Or stay with me. Please, Red," Nicky pleaded as if she had any choice. As if she was twelve years old again. The Christmas decorations hung in the bleak room made it even worse. Christmas was their time. It was supposed to be special. "I need to be with you," Nicky said hysterically, panic building inside of her. "Don't do this to me, not again."

Red fought her own tears. "We've had so many years together. Happy years! So many memories. And I remember every one of them. You have your own malyshka to take care of now. Tell Samantha that I love her. That I'll always be her babushka. Make those memories with her. Promise me, Nicky," she begged her daughter with a breath that neared her last. "Promise me you won't do anything fucking stupid." She pulled Nicky's face close to her own so that their cheeks touched, and her fingers tangled in that hair of hers. That beautiful, wild hair. "You are not to give up." She squeezed Nicky's hands with all the strength she had, and Nicky was devastated to only feel Red's hand only managing to limply clutch at her fingers.

The tears welled in Nicky's eyes and she couldn't promise anything genuine. But if Red needed to hear it, if that was the only way she'd...if that was the only way she'd be able to die in peace, then as much as it hurt, Nicky was willing to try. "I promise," Nicky said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "For Samantha." Nicky added, making sure Red knew that her daughter's happiness and well being was the only thing she ever put above Red. That without Samantha, she'd join her in a heartbeat. One last fix and eternity with Red...or a black nothingness wherein she wouldn't know the difference.

"Nicky?" Red rasped. She had to say everything she needed to say now, or she might never get the chance to. And she wasn't about to do that to Nicky. She needed closure. She needed a mother who cared and Red wasn't about to abandon the responsibility she'd taken on for over two decades now, when they both needed each other the most.

Nicky glanced up, her arm still looped around Red's. An ashen face stared down at her, but her eyes were still the same and they sparkled. "Yeah?"

"You'll always be mine." Red said quietly but confidently. "My child. My only daughter. I love you. You'll always be my home." Tears slid down her cheeks as she blinked them away. "Even when I'm gone. Especially when I'm gone."

Nicky nodded wordlessly, a whimper escaping from her lips as she buried her head into Red's arm. There weren't any words that suited her better. You are my home. "You'll always be mine too, Ma."

She could feel her breathing becoming shallower. Nicky held her hand tighter and reminded her that she was there. That she would always be there, no matter what. Nicky felt her chest rise and fall as she struggled for breath. The heart monitor marched on with one beep after the other as Red fought for every beat of her heart. "Mom?" Nicky said softly, trying to catch Red's attention. "It's okay, Red. You can let go now."

There was a hitch in her breath and then nothing. No last juddering breath. No miracle that meant everything was going to be okay. Just nothing. Nicky stared, tears making her brown eyes twinkle, as she realized that nothing would be the same ever again. Just a flat-line and Nicky. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Nicky reached into the bag she had brought for Red's stay. Because not once had she considered that Red might not be coming back from the hospital. She hadn't allowed herself that. Red's brush was the same one she'd had for years, and even it brought back memories for Nicky as she held it between her hands. "It's okay, Ma. Let's sort out your hair."

Tears flowed freely as Nicky gently brushed the hair from Red's eyes, carefully hiding any strands of gray that she hadn't managed to catch. She would have hated for anyone to see them. "You would always do this for me." Nicky managed a watery smile. "Even when I was too old for it." She hummed softly to Red as she combed the hair. "And I can't forget your lipstick. Signature. Samantha always wanted to try, remember?" Nicky asked redundantly, carefully applying the makeup although she knew it would probably get washed off again. It didn't matter to her. It was the final thing she could do. Make her look like her old self again before she had to leave her alone here. "And you...well, you turned soft in your old age. Anything for her. Even your red lipstick."

Nicky planted a kiss on Red's alabaster cheek. "There, all done. You look beautiful." Nicky choked out. "I love you," she said, placing Red's hands in her lap. She turned away from her mother and headed to the door. "Goodnight, Ma."

"It's okay," Nicky said wearily as she turned the key in the door. One hand still remained in Samantha's as she tried to comfort her daughter. Even thinking about others when her heart felt broken was a feat, yet trying to make her own child feel better and failing made her feel even worse. Telling Samantha about Red's passing was the worst thing she'd ever had to do, and she'd done some pretty fucked up things in her time.

How had Red managed it? Nicky wondered as she gave her daughter a little push inside. It was so much harder than she had ever made it seem, and she wondered how she managed to stay sane during her addictions. She looked at her daughter. She couldn't even manage her grief, let alone her detoxing.

Going into the house was even harder than she expected. A wave of grief hit her and she wanted to fall to the ground. She wanted to drown in the torment that all of the memories brought her, and by the way her lungs felt, it was a possibility. Christmas decorations surrounded her. Had she appreciated last Christmas as much as she should have? Did she know, somewhere deep inside, that it was their last? She wanted to crumple on the floor and break down. To die, if it made the ache go away - and she knew there was a thousand substances that could do both at once. But Samantha was looking at her worriedly, and so she took a deep breath. Calm down, malyshka...nothing good will come from hitting self-destruct.

The words felt so real and close that Nicky wanted to throw up, but she swallowed hard and forced herself to look around the room dizzily. Everywhere she looked was a memory. Even just a glance across the room together. The door frame that showed Samantha's height over the years, that Red had painstakingly recorded every year, despite the little girl who tried to stand on tippy toes.

"I'm tired, Mom," Samantha said quietly, breaking through the silence. The word Mom was enough for Nicky to falter, and she stuttered an incoherent response before she got her bearings.

"Go to bed, baby," she murmured, planting a light kiss on Samantha's cheek. Her jaw worked as she stumbled over her words, trying to find something of value to say. She couldn't. The haze was similar to drugs, only without the high. She simply shook her head and squeezed her daughter's hand. "It's late."

Samantha complied; she had never seen her mother so distraught, and it was almost scary to watch. "Goodnight," she said in a whisper. Nicky said nothing. It wasn't a good night. It was the worst night of her life, and the words seemed to spite her despite the good intentions behind them. She watched Samantha disappear into the room that Red had saved for her. That Red had decorated every now and again, smirking as Samantha marveled at the beauty that her babushka had managed once again. After seeing her daughter's door close, Nicky allowed the tears to flow.

Red's room still had the light on like a beacon of hope. And like a moth to a flame (you find trouble like a moth finds a flame, Nicky, she'd always laugh), Nicky found her feet walking independently to the door, despite her reservations. It had only been hours since she was last there. Would the bed still be warm? Would it smell like her? Would everything be the same, like she had left in a hurry? Or would something forever be missing?

Finding the bed, Nicky crawled under the blanket that now had tattered edges and loose woolly threads hanging from it. Red had run her hands over the thing a million times, from when Nicky was still a child until now, when her eyes shone and she laughed, rolling her eyes about Nicky keeping it for so long. It had seemed right, as she had turned the key in the lock, that she come here again. The scent of Red clung to the walls. Her warmth permeated the air. Her handiwork held Nicky together when she wanted to fall apart, the threadbare blanket cocooning Nicky into a heap of grief, tears, and longing. She crammed her fist into her mouth, stifling the screams of pain that made her chest feel like it was about to explode. Every bone in her body ached for Red. It was a physical yearning that she had only known one other time in her life, and that was when Red left for the first time. Only this time...Nicky shook her head as her shoulders heaved with the sobs that wracked her body. This time, Nicky screamed inside her head, there was no coming back.

Samantha hovered outside of the door. Her mother's cries in anguish had not gone unnoticed to her, and her brow creased in concern. She had loved her grandmother, and they had shared an enormous wealth of happy memories together, but her mother and her had something different; something unique to anything anyone else had. Even in the movies, it wasn't the same. They hadn't seen Red and Nicky. They hadn't witnessed, like Samantha had, the stolen glances across the room. The secret smiles. The tears that were allowed to flow. The love, constant and true, that forever would be burned into Nicky's heart.

"Mommy?" Samantha asked quietly as she entered the room. The darkness shrouded Nicky's grief and Samantha couldn't see the pile of tears and heartbreak that was curled up on the bed. Nicky instantly looked up, for the word was foreign to her daughter's lips. It had been for some time now. Nicky didn't want to come out from under the covers. She wanted to let herself die in there. But there was someone relying on her and, Nicky realized, as she peeked out from the blanket, she looked afraid. Nicky allowed herself one final moment of wishing for self annihilation, and then exhaled forcefully through her nose.

Nicky lifted the blanket up, thankful that the dark would hide her tear stained face. "You can sleep here if you want to." Nicky offered, her voice sounding alien to even herself. "Come on. Keep me company."

Samantha ran to her mother and dived under the covers with her. Arms instantly wrapped around her and she felt better already. "I miss her." Samantha said, her brow furrowing. "I know it hasn't been long, but..."

Nicky shook her head. "I miss her too, baby."

"Will you sing to me?" Samantha asked, her voice wobbling. "Babushka used to when I was little. I always said I was too old..." she trailed off.

"Shh." Nicky said. It was too painful to hear, and she didn't want Samantha to think of all of the negatives when there were so many positives. She remembered the song that used to lull the little girl to sleep whenever nothing else would. The song that Red had taught her, in Russian and English. "Babushka knew you loved her. She told me to tell you the same." Nicky took a deep, grounding breath and began to sing.

"Pust' vsegda budet solntse,
Pust' vsegda budet nebo,
Pust' vsegda budet mama,
Pust' vsegda budu ya."

By the end of the song, the teenager had been sung to sleep, tears clinging to her ruddy cheeks. Nicky sighed herself, and pulled a corner of the blanket to her nose. She held her daughter close to her, and prayed that the morning would be better.

Morning rolled around like it always would for the living, as much as Nicky had wanted it to never arrive. When she first opened her eyes, the bed next to her was empty, and she padded through to the kitchen. Her heart broke all over again as she watched Samantha sitting on a kitchen stool, staring down at a photo of three generations. It had only been taken a year or so ago, and yet felt like several life times ago. For a moment, Nicky just watched. Then she rubbed her daughter's shoulder and started to make a pot of coffee.

"Mom?" Samantha said tentatively. Nicky glanced up from her coffee and nodded. She always tried to find time for her daughter, even when her head was all over the place. "I have something for you."

"Yeah?" Nicky asked, her voice lacking any curiosity at all. She was trying, but it was exhausting even to move her lips. She sighed wearily and took a sip of her coffee. "What is it?"

"Mhm..." Samantha said. "I don't know what it is. Babushka gave it to me to give to you. I think it was supposed to be for Christmas...but it's close enough now, isn't it? She wanted you to have it even if she couldn't give it to you herself." Samantha looked up guiltily. "I hope you're not upset with me."

Nicky spluttered on her coffee before composing herself. "Of course I'm not. I'm just confused. What are you talking about?" Nicky almost demanded, her brow creasing. She smoothed her daughter's hair to ease her worry.

"She said you wouldn't want to talk about it...you know, death." Samantha said quietly, more withdrawn than Nicky had ever known her to be. Than Nicky had ever raised her to be. "Said that she was getting older and might not have much time left," Samantha closes her eyes. "I didn't think she was right. I just said okay. Let her talk. She seemed happier when she was finished and let me help her bake. I think..." Samantha hesitated. "I think she felt better knowing you'd get it."

Nicky nodded thoughtfully, and wasn't ashamed by the tears dripping down her cheeks. She wiped them away and gave Samantha a hug, pulling her close and kissing her cheek. "I'm glad she had you. She loved you so much."

Samantha passed Nicky the bag, holding it out expectantly. Nicky took it and smiled through her tears. "Pandora." She narrowed her eyes and laughed though her chest still ached with loss. "Your babushka was a fraud. I wanted a bracelet from here. She told me not to waste my money."

Nicky opened the bag carefully. It was hard to disturb something Red had put together so considerately, but she was also desperate to know what was inside. A note was tucked inside the bag. Nicky delved inside to see what the note contained, and her heart skipped a beat when she did. Red's handwriting was instantly recognizable, and Nicky's eyes filled with tears.

Malayshka - smile, it's Christmas! Our favorite time of the year. Things might seem bleak at times, and they often will - but the fairy lights shine brightly and we both know that Samantha likes to put up enough to light up the whole city. Whenever things seem like too much, or you begin to doubt yourself - look down at this. Look down and remember every happy memory. Look down and remember the many years we had together on this Earth. And add to it. Make memories for yourself and Samantha. You don't have to be miserable. Make it as full as you made my heart. You deserve that and more.

Merry Christmas, Nicky. I love you.

- Ma

The words were just what Nicky needed to hear, and even if she wasn't quite ready to accept them yet, it meant everything to Nicky that she had her handwriting and style on a page to look at whenever she wanted. To look at when she needed to talk to her. She pressed the letter to her chest and breathed the moment in. Tears slipped from her eyes and she wiped them away, terrified of smudging the ink. With a trembling hand, she reached inside the bag and pulled out a box. The lid came off easily, and Nicky smiled when she saw what Red had left her. Nothing could have been more perfect, and yet it was like a blinding sun - she didn't want to look at it for came tumbling back to her and she let the tears flow, along with a little laugh, as she recalled every moment that was attached to the bracelet in the form of a charm. Red had managed to condense years worth of memories into a bracelet that would sit on her wrist forever and always. That she could look down on, just like she had suggested. Nicky slipped the bracelet on her wrist and admired it. It must have taken years to accumulate the charms. There were ones that were memories from years ago, from when Samantha was small.

"What is it, Mom?" Samantha asked as Nicky marveled. She attempted to peek closer to the bracelet, and Nicky held it up for her, examining the charms herself as they jingled together.

"It's a charm bracelet." Nicky said proudly. Her chest heaved as she thought of Red slowly filling it with memories. How was it possible for the bracelet to be so full and yet for her to feel so empty? "It must have taken years to build up. There are so many memories here. Things you won't even remember."

Samantha smiled. "I wouldn't?" She peered at the bracelet and had to concede - there were things she couldn't even guess about. "It must have taken a long time. She really loved you, Mom." Nicky smiled at her daughter. She knew this already, but it was nice that someone else noticed. "Will you tell me about them?"

Nicky looked up at her daughter in surprise, and then she nodded. It wouldn't be easy. It fact it would probably be very painful. But then recalling every nice moment in your life couldn't be all bad, could it? And her little face was so excited. Nicky nodded again. She was touched that her daughter wanted to know. "Of course I will, sweetheart."

Nicky's gaze fell back down to her bracelet and she managed a small but still tearful smile. No, things would never be the same again, and that devastated her. But she had hope now, that despite not being the same...that one day, things would be okay again.

Hey guys!

The song translates to (apparently):

May there always be sunshine,
May there always be blue skies,
May there always be mummy,
May there always be me!

I told you it wouldn't be long before you saw me again. And Home. ;) If you're not sick of the both of us by now, please leave me a review telling me what you thought and what you want to see next. Please, though, don't tell me any spoilers for S5. I have only seen episode one.

Stay safe and have a wonderful day/night, lovelies!

- Star xo