AN: First of all, thank you for opening this up. I hope you enjoy these one-shots as much as I enjoy writing them, I have almost sixteen or more ideas written in my notebook and I'm excited to bring them too life. I accept and appreciate constructive criticism; so long as it's not abusive. I would put "Paradox" and "She was Never Mine to Hold" but I don't want to lose my wonderful reviews on those pieces. So from now on all of my one-shots will be placed into this story, I hope you like these stories and I hope you share your thoughts with me.

Love, Corina.

Cinnamon

Lonely mother, gazing out of her window

Staring at a son, that she just can't touch

If at any time he's in a jam, she'll be by his side

But he doesn't realize, he hurts her so much

-TLC; Waterfalls

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"Hello, love. How're you feeling?"

"What makes you think…you're welcome here?"

The words sting deeply and her eyes fill with tears, she swallows thickly and removes her hand from his arm.

"I know…I know that you're angry, Alex…I'm so sorry. You don't have to say anything to me, son. I wish you would but…I understand"

The machines are whispering in the background and she can't look him in the eye, not yet. For there is nothing but hatred in them, and it's breaking her into tiny little pieces. She rolls up a chair to sit beside him, and dares to put her hand on his. Stroking the soft skin gently, the way she used to when he got a boo-boo and came crying to her.

"Before I married your dad…I wanted to be a doctor, of course…I was a woman so that made it uh-that made a lot harder to achieve that goal, but I was determined. I studied for hours and hours, I took all the necessary classes; I even memorized Latin and Greek roots so that Anatomy terms would come easy to me. When I was twenty, I read about this study…from America. Um…this doctor proposed an idea that mothers could identify their own baby simply by his or her scent. They…They had mothers of new borns participate in this study…"

Alex doesn't say anything, and she takes it as permission to continue.

"Over thirty mothers did it, they'd put a blindfold over her eyes and they would bring five babies into the room. One at a time, a baby was placed into the mother's arms. Every single time, the mother was successfully able to identify her child, the most it took for her to tell if the baby was hers or not was two minutes. For some reason, I didn't believe it. I thought it was completely ridiculous or that-at least-it wouldn't work for me. I'd never had a strong sense of smell."

Alex's eyes are softening, just a bit. Something is pushing at his mind, a voice that's trying to remind him that this woman is his mother. She loved him, sheltered him, KICKED HIM OUT INTO THE COLD WORLD—he reminds himself quickly. And once again his eyes turn cold as ice.

"And then I…I married your father and I had you, Alex. I knew you by your scent within thirty minutes, it comforted me. I used to just sit in bed and breathe you in, you smelled like cinnamon. And it didn't matter what shampoo or body wash I used…when I held you close to me when you were six months, two years, seven…after you'd have a nightmare or simply…loved me enough to want to be held by me…I would breathe you in, Alex."

She scoots her chair closer. She moves closer to him, stops…swallows nervously…and keeps going until her nose brushes against his sandy hair. He opens his mouth to tell her to bugger off, but she speaks before he can. "You still smell like cinnamon" she breathes him again and he can feel her tears against his skin as they fall one by one. And for once he isn't annoyed by her crying, because she's not wailing loudly. This is woman who is falling apart, who loved her son and tried her hardest to be good parent. And he's hurt her, Alex knows this.

If he feels guilty about anything—with or without the Ludivico nightmare—it's breaking his mother's heart.

"When you were gone…I would lay on your bed and…sniff your pillow. Pretending that…I could still smell you; I was so angry…at you. I was so very angry and…confused and shocked…hurt. Everyone kept telling me how sorry they were…that you turned out the way you did. But they don't…they don't know, you weren't always a delinquent or criminal…you were…you were my baby, once. And you loved me, and you wanted me to hold you…and now you...you don't even look at me the same…you haven't since you were thirteen."

She's sitting down again, "I love you, Alex…I've never stopped. Sometimes…I wish could stop. And you know what? I remember, you could be such a little brat…oh, by the time you reached thirteen…that's when you started rebelling. You were still respectful to us but you'd come home with notes from your teachers…phone calls saying you hadn't shown up to school. I would so mad at you, But then…then I'd breathe in that scent and…you weren't some problem child with behavior that foreshadowed something more sinister like everyone says now…you were my baby again."

His mother stands up, "I can't bear the scent of cinnamon anymore. It only reminds me…that I failed motherhood. Well um…they said I only had thirty minutes. Time's up. Goodbye, love"

She walks out, and Alex feels the words he wants to say crawling up his throat but his mouth won't open. I love you too, mum.

Please, Please, Please Review!

Tell me what you think :) I'm having a blast writing these one-shots.