"You told her not to call her mother?" Dmitri repeated, his eyebrows shooting upwards. He twisted his wedding band on his finger, shaking his head. "Why would you do that?"

Red held back a sigh. His response had been the reason she hadn't told him her stellar advice to Nicky, yet he had wheedled it out of her. As much as she hated to admit it, he knew her. More than she knew herself, sometimes. When she had come back home that night, her mind wandering as she burned herself on the teapot and asking "hmm?" to everything he had asked her, he knew she was hiding something.

Finally, and only after Nicky had gone for a shower, that she had let it slip.

"I know her," Red said, the corners of her mouth twitching downwards. "It wouldn't be good for her. That mother of hers, she doesn't deserve her. I think she'd be better off without her."

"But she's not yours, Galina!" Dmitri exploded. "She has a mother, a mother who clearly misses her! Don't keep Nicky away from her because you want -" he broke off, holding his head in his hands, "no, because you need her. Don't be selfish."

"Selfish?" Red echoed. Her brow furrowed into a glare. "Everything I have ever done in my life, I've done it for others! For you! For our boys! For...for my girls." Her voice faltered.

"Is your memory really that short?" Dmitri asked, peppering the sentence with Russian curse words. "Because mine isn't. And if you could remember how you felt, even one tiny bit, you would never put another mother through that pain."

Red flinched at the words. Perhaps he was right - but she wasn't willing to give Nicky up that easily, and if that made her selfish, then so be it. She turned away from him.

"I hardly think Nicky's mother is going through that pain," she returned stiffly, refusing to look at him. Her eyes stayed glued to the ground as she counted the knots in the floorboards.

"Why?" Dmitri shot back. "Because she's wealthy? Because she parented differently to us?"

Raising boys in the city hadn't been easy for either of them. Without much money coming in, they'd never had the latest clothes or technology. They scraped by, short of money but never love, and their boys had enjoyed a childhood rich with experiences, not material objects. They'd been happy, but that didn't mean Galina hadn't seen their friends, and the looks of their parents, as they struggled. People looking down on her had been a common occurrence; one she didn't want to repeat with Nicky.

"Because her little girl is in my spare room, and where is she?" Red whisper-yelled, conscious of Nicky hearing and having her walk out straight into the middle of an argument. It was almost like she had been taken back to when her boys were young. When their marriage was much rockier, and in the time when night fell, voices rose.

"She's in her twenties," Dmitri said, crossing the room to take Red's hand. She swatted at him, refusing to let him lace his fingers through hers. "Kids will be kids. Do you not remember when Yuri moved without telling us?"

Red bit her lip. "I banged on the door for twenty minutes until next door came out and told me no-one lived there anymore. I could have killed him that day."

Dmitri let out a little laugh. "See?"

"No," Red said firmly. "There's no similarities between me and her. Nicky could have died. I would never…" her voice trailed off. The rest of the sentence hung in the air uncomfortably - I would never leave her. Because back then, in what felt like another life to Red, she had done exactly that. And she knew how it felt when it ended in tragedy. As much as she hated this woman she had never met, she wouldn't wish that pain on anyone.

"I know," Dmitri said quietly. Finally, he pulled her into a hug. This time, she let him, and buried her nose into his neck. Soft muffled sobs erupted from her, and he rocked her gently, rubbing circles into her back. "I know," he repeated. "This time, Galina...this time is different."

"It has to be," Red said, looking up at him through lashes stuck together with tears.

She touched his cheek. Despite the years that had passed, the years that had left lines on his face and extra weight around his middle, he was still her Dmitri, still her love. Their marriage hadn't been based on passion or lust, but the years had been kind to them, in many ways. They were stronger than they ever had been.

"It has to be," she repeated, "or they'll never forgive me," she whispered, referring to her boys. "And I'll never forgive myself."

Red crossed the street until she saw the office she was looking for. This late in the day, she wasn't even sure Marka would even still be here. She had found the woman's office from looking online. It had taken almost twenty minutes to even find the on button. Vasily had given it to her last Christmas, and although she'd had him set up Wi-Fi so she could order things for the market at home, she still hadn't quite got the hang of it.

Yet here she was, stood outside of Marka's office, ready to either give her a piece of her mind or simply observe her. She hadn't decided yet. She wanted to see if she had been right to warn Nicky off of her - or, if she'd been selfish, as Dmitri had suggested.

Stepping inside, Red glanced around furtively. The waiting room was empty, but Marka's name was on the white door on the other side of the room, so she confidently strode over to the secretary. A mousy haired woman sat typing on the computer, the sound of the keys the only sound in the room.

"I'm here to see Marka Nichols," she said. Confidence is key, she told herself. They'll believe anything as long as you do, too.

Without even glancing up, the secretary nodded. "If you take a seat, I can let Mrs Nichols know - "

Red didn't wait to hear the rest of the secretary's sentence. Instead, she ducked her head, and pushed the door to Marka's office open before anyone could stop her. As she slammed it shut behind her, she could hear footsteps rushing behind her.

Marka looked up from her desk, her glasses resting on her nose. "Oh," she said, her eyes widening in surprise. "I wasn't expecting a meeting," she murmured, frantically rifling through the stacks of paperwork. "Which company are you from?" she asked, her tone apologetic. "I'm so sorry, I don't usually forget clients.."

"I'm not a client." Red folded her arms. "I've come about Nicky."

Marka's hand stopped abruptly, and she stood. "Nicky?" she asked. A look of terror crossed her features for a moment, flashing and fleeting, as the blood drained from her face. "What's happened? Is she...okay?"

Red almost felt sorry for her. She recognized that look. But the sympathy stopped at almost, and she shook her head.

"She's fine. No thanks to you. Do you even know where she is? If she's safe? Clearly not," Red remarked. "She came to me out of her fucking mind on drugs. Suffered withdrawal with me. I held her hair back whilst she threw up. And that was hard, yes, but nothing - nothing! - compared to the pain of losing a child."

Red ran her fingers through her hair, a deep sigh filling the silence. After her outburst, she felt self conscious. It wasn't like her, but she'd just laid her deepest insecurity and darkest moment in front of Marka; a stranger who she hadn't heard the best things about. Her hands trembled as she waited for a response.

She expected to be yelled at, to be thrown out...but Marka simply sat down at her desk. Her chair creaked beneath her as she frowned. Then the blonde gestured at the empty seat in front of her. Calmly, she folded her glasses and set them in front of her.

"Mrs Reznikov, I don't know what my daughter has told you, but-"

"Plenty," Red interjected. She declined the seat, instead standing with her arms folded. "Nicky deserves the world, you know that? She is so smart, and beautiful, and she could do anything…"

Marka nodded swiftly. "She could," she agreed all too readily, "if she stopped poisoning herself with every drug known to man."

Red pressed her lips together. "She's sober now."

"Is she?" Marka said, without any hint of happiness or pride. "Forgive me for not bursting with excitement. I've heard it all before."

"How are you so calm?" Red snapped. "Your daughter is God-knows where, with strangers to you, and you just sit there, tapping your pen? Did you not get the memo? Children need you for life!"

"I don't expect you to understand," Marka said, swallowing hard. Red caught the small action, and she didn't start yelling like she wanted to. "Clearly you have a lovely family. With children who love and respect you, who seem like they're doing very well. Lucky you."

"Lucky me?" Red said, leaning down and putting her hands palm down on the table. "None of that was luck. I poured everything I had into those boys."

"You can stand there and judge me," Marka said, her forehead wrinkling as she gripped the pen a little too tightly. "But I'm sure you wouldn't be perfect with an addict for a child either. You don't understand until you've been through it. You don't understand until you've seen your child scream at you in withdrawal. You don't understand until she's been to every single rehab in a hundred mile radius and still she lands in the hospital because of a dirty needle."

"You stupid bitch," Red muttered. "No, I wouldn't understand all of that. Because with my addict child, I couldn't afford rehabs! And now she's dead!" Red's voice broke off painfully, and she finally threw herself down onto the chair.

Marka didn't comment on the insult. In fact, she seemed frozen. The way her hand stopped raking through her hair, the way even her breathing seemed to stop. "I'm...sorry," Marka said slowly. She looked so distant. "You're right. I don't understand what that's like. But I do love Nicky. I've been calling her for weeks. She's been with you?"

Red bristled at the way Marka looked at her. "Yes," she said. "Something wrong?"

"Yes," Marka said. Her eyes misted. "What have you done that I didn't? I didn't abandon her. I just stopped funding her. And she didn't like it." Marka shook her head. "What was I supposed to do? You can't force someone to be sober. You should know that better than anyone."

Red found herself lost for words. When she'd stormed over here, she expected to want to read her the riot act. And now she had, she had run out of steam.

"Where is she?" Marka said. Her voice filled the silence. "She won't tell me," she said, desperation creeping in. "I've called hundreds of times. She just lets me go through to voicemail every time." She paused, pressing her lips together. "I've been to every person she used to get fixes from. I've looked everywhere." Marka looked to Red. "She thinks I'm angry. I'm not angry, not anymore."

For the first time, Red saw herself in Marka.

"Where is she?" Red asked no-one, looking to the sky. She clutched her phone to her chest, willing Tricia to call. Every time she had tried to call, Tricia's chirpy voice came back to her, asking her to leave a message. Eventually it told her that the mailbox was full.

"Tricia," the last voicemail she had left her said. "Please call me back. I miss you. I love you. I am not mad anymore, I promise." Red's voice faltered. "Honey, I just need to know you're okay."

Red had put the phone down. She cast her eyes to the sky. "Please come home."

"You really want to see her?" Red said, narrowing her eyes. She pushed the memory from her mind.

"Of course I do," Marka snapped. "She's my daughter. I want her to come home. It's the best place she could possibly be."

Because that worked out so well last time, Red thought, feeling a prickle of annoyance. "She's doing fine with me," she said stiffly.

"Until the next time," Marka said. "She might be doing well now. Going to her meetings. Promising all sorts. But don't wait until it's too late. She needs rehab. She needs help, proper help."

"I am helping her."

"What if she uses again, mm?" Marka said, drumming her nails against the wood of her desk. "Her heart couldn't take it. She's been through enough already."

"Her heart?" Red echoed.

"She didn't tell you?" Marka clucked, unsurprised. "Bacterial endocarditis. I almost lost her, you know."

If that didn't put the fear of God into her, nothing would. Marka's words swam in her head. I almost lost her. She couldn't cope with losing another child. She closed her eyes.

"She's not wired right," Marka said. "You can't help her. She can't even help herself. She needs real help. Please let me give it to her."

Red jerked her thumb in the direction of the office door, against her better judgement. Dmitri's words echoed in her head. Most of all, she couldn't bear the thought of seeing another child cold and lifeless.

"Come on, then," she said gruffly. "I hope your heels can do some walking."

It was almost a test. If Marka put down everything she was working on and followed her, then she was good enough for one more chance. If not, then she would leave her behind and her guilt would be assuaged somewhat.

Marka picked up her purse. "They can." Then she paused. "She's at yours?"

"Mhm," Red replied, continuing to walk out of the office and into the waiting room. The secretary glared at her, and opened her mouth, but Marka held her hand up to tell her not to bother explaining.

Marka clutched her purse to her chest, heaving a sigh. "She's not out?" she asked again, seemingly not believing that Nicky was safe at Red's house. "She never stayed in. Not at home."

Red shrugged, turning to look at Marka. Her eyebrows shot up. "Nothing good ever happens after midnight."

"No," Marka agreed, her brow furrowing. "It never did."

As soon as Red opened the door, letting Marka step through the threshold to her home, she regretted it. For one, the woman had avoided touching every door handle up to the apartment. For two, Nicky's head snapped up the moment it opened.

Fresh out of the shower, and clad only in pajamas and a dressing gown, she looked younger and brighter than she did during the day.

"Why did you bring her here?" Nicky said, her face set in a glare. She flicked her hair, still fluffy from blow-drying it, out of her face. "You said she wasn't worth calling."

"I was wrong," Red said simply. She set her purse down on the counter with a heavy sigh. Dmitri glanced at her from the table he was sitting at with Nicky. A half-finished card game sat between them, but he set his cards down. "She's come to make things better between you two." Red's voice was weary.

Nicky shook her head. "I don't want to."

Red tilted her head with a little shrug, smoothing her own windswept hair back. "Well, that's life, isn't it? Doing things you don't want to."

She didn't want to debate this with Nicky. If she did, she would cave; she would shake her head and tell Nicky that she should stay with her, that she would look after her. But that wouldn't be fair. The way she looked down let Nicky know that arguing was off the table, and the blonde bit her lip.

Nicky tried anyway, throwing down her own cards. "But you were right. I don't need her."

Red offered Nicky a smile, walking behind her chair. Though unsurprised by Nicky's open dislike of her mother, she wished she would tone it down a little, for Marka was looking more downtrodden with every sour word. She leant down beside her ear. "Maybe not," she agreed. "But maybe she needs you."

Nicky turned in her chair. Her brow furrowed, and she grabbed at Red's arm, the one she had hurt all those weeks ago. "But you need me."

"I'll be okay. I promise."

Nicky stood, her brow furrowing. "Is it because of your boys?" she asked in a whisper. "I won't do anything stupid. I won't hurt you, I promise."

"I know that, Nicky," Red said, swallowing hard. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done; turning away her girl. And for her to think she didn't want her anymore...it made her feel sick to her stomach.

"This is nothing to do with my boys," she soothed her. "This is to do with you and your mother. And this isn't goodbye. It's just...see you later."

"Will I, though?" Nicky asked. She looked up anxiously. "See you later, I mean? Should I pack my things?"

Red's eyes softened. She barely had any things with her. They were all at home, where she probably should be. "Of course you don't have to." Red pushed down the aching in her chest and the lump in her throat. "You are always welcome here."

Nicky's eyes slowly went to her mother. Marka looked as she always did, cold and distant and completely different from Red. But there was hope in her eyes, and Red was smiling. Maybe this was for the best.

Red forced herself to smile through the tears that pooled in her eyes. She blinked hard, nodding at Nicky. "It's okay," she said, reaching out to rub Nicky's arm. It was prickled with goosebumps. "Go with your mother."

Marka held her bag to her chest like a lifeline. She looked to Red, her usually strong blue eyes softening. "Thank you," she mouthed, out of Nicky's line of sight.

Red nodded again, squeezing Nicky's hands in her own. She gently pulled on Nicky's hair. "Be good. Okay?"

Nicky rolled her eyes. "I always am, aren't I?"

Red gave her a little push towards Marka.

Nicky resisted. "Please don't do this."

Every bone in Red's body screamed at her to grab Nicky and not let her go. But Dmitri stood next to her, and wrapped his arm around her. She leaned in towards him, letting him hold her up. And Nicky, despite the reluctance written all over her face, did what she was told for once.

"This is for the best," he murmured in Russian. Nicky frowned, wondering what he said. "Safe travels," he said in English. "And make good choices."

"I will," Nicky said. Truthfully, she was feeling bewildered. It had all happened so quickly. This morning Red was introducing her to the family, now she felt like she was being thrown out. In an attempt at stalling, she held up a sleeve of her dressing gown. "I can't leave in this."

"I called a cab on the way over," Marka said. "No-one will see you in that. Where did you get those pajamas?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "They aren't really your style, are they?"

"They were my daughter's," Red said, holding her head up. Her gaze lingered on the pajamas that were entirely Tricia, but entirely unlike Nicky.

Marka looked stricken. "Oh," she murmured. She grabbed Nicky's arm. "I'll get them washed and sent back to you as soon as I can."

A smile flickered over Red's face. "No," she said. "You keep them, Nicky...I like to see them being worn again."

Marka nodded. "Well, we'd better get going."

Nicky held back. "Are you sure, Red?" she whispered. "I can stay." In her head she added, please let me stay.

"No," Red said, bravely putting on a face. She forced another smile, choking back tears. "You go. Marka can give you things I can't. She can help you further in your recovery. I want you to go."

Nicky couldn't hide the hurt. She nodded curtly, and let Marka lead her away. As the door slammed behind them, Red broke down. No longer able to hold back the tears, she let them flow freely and leant on Dmitri for support.

"You did the right thing," he soothed, raking clumsy fingers through her hair. The apartment was wracked with the wails of a grieving mother who had just let yet another child go. "When you love them, you have to let them go."

Red put her hands over her face, hiding the tears that fell. Marka's words about Nicky's heart echoed in her head, swirling round and round and round. "I didn't know what to do, Dmitri! I didn't know what to do."

"You did the only thing you could. You gave her back."

"Did you not see her face?" Red shook her head. The look of betrayal on Nicky's face would never leave her, not as long as she lived. It was burned into her mind like only a few other memories, mostly tragic ones. "I let her down," she sobbed, collapsing down onto the couch. "I let them both down."

A/N:

Hey lovelies!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter.
 Let me know what you thought and what you'd like to see.
Be safe and happy!

- Star xo