Nicky's eyes opened for the tenth time that night. She flipped over and looked at the clock on the bedside table, a red 4:30 illuminating the room that was otherwise swathed in darkness, and held her breath as she listened. Parker's cries echoed through the apartment. It wasn't Parker who had woken her up each time, but she woke up on the hour every hour and then some nonetheless.

It had been a fitful night's sleep to say the least.

Nicky was ashamed to say that she didn't spring out of bed upon hearing her daughter's cries. Instead, she lay in bed, her eyes burning as she stared at the ceiling. The dark was an anomaly now; she found it unsettling rather than comforting.

Parker's cries grew louder. Nicky pressed her hands over her ears, bundles of hair not doing much to insulate the noise. The idea of a baby was so much simpler than the actuality, she was finding. It wasn't that she didn't love Parker - far from it, in fact. But weren't mothers supposed to just know?

Nicky threw the covers off of her legs. Leaving her bed was a wrench, but she stumbled out of bed and into the darkness. She wrung her hands as she padded to Parker's nursery. With every cry her anxiety mounted. Nicky had never been a worried person - going with the flow had always seemed easier. But she had never had such pressure on her before, and suddenly her hands were trembling as she eased open the door.

A dusky pink light fell over the room from a small night light on the wall, and Nicky used it to navigate to the cot. She placed her hands on it, psyching herself up to comfort her baby. She sickened herself. What mother didn't know how to make her own child stop crying? How could she call herself Parker's mommy when the little girl looked up at her not in recognition but with apprehension?

Did Parker love her?

Nicky stared down at the screaming infant, her eyes unseeing. The cloud motif in the nursery was fitting as tears dripped down her cheeks like raindrops.

She doubted it.

What if she was everything she hated about her own upbringing? What if she was Marka? Red had said everything would make sense the moment she clapped eyes on her baby, but it hadn't - and with time came more confusion and not much else.

Nicky pawed at her cheeks, salty tears stinging the raw skin on her neck that she'd scratched in her sleep. After a moment's hesitation, she reached down into the crib. "Shh," Nicky said absently, her hand running down Parker's back. Her fingers danced along her spine comfortingly, and thankfully, the cries quietened.

Nicky let out a breath.

"I'm so sorry for leaving you," Nicky whispered into the darkness. "I know what it feels like, you know...to be left behind." Copper hair fell in front of Nicky's teary eyes as she bowed her head. She cleared her throat. "I don't want you to ever feel like that."

She was ashamed to even admit to herself that the harmony that had fallen over her newfound home hadn't brought her any joy to speak of. Chaos was what she had always thrived on. Now she just felt flat. Even with her baby staring up at her, she felt numb.

Maybe she'd been too busy to notice before, too wrapped up in the pregnancy, the birth and then her release...but she hadn't noticed feeling low until now.

Yet now it felt as if acid rain was pouring down on her. She forced herself back into the moment, and robotically reached down for Parker. Holding her in the crook of her arm, Nicky tiptoed into the kitchen. Parker was still whimpering as she flicked the countertop light on.

Nicky stood in the middle of the kitchen. Her brain was still foggy from sleep and she hadn't had any practise, but she tried to use some common sense. Her hand patted at the diaper, but it wasn't wet. Biting her lip, Nicky looked around the kitchen. There were bottles littered on the sideboards, and Nicky picked one up. It was like a foreign object. She'd never even held one before - she'd refused to give Parker a feed at the hospital. It would have been far too painful.

Yet the little innocuous item was yet another reminder of something else she'd failed in. She had spent her entire life berating Marka for her choices, yet she couldn't even feed her own baby. She looked down at her breasts, still rounded from the extra weight she'd gained, and winced. It had been a painful few weeks after Parker's birth. She hadn't been convinced when Gloria had rocked up to her cube with frozen cabbage leaves, but as instructed she stuffed them down her bra and, to her surprise, it had worked. But it had left her feeling bereft. She should have been feeding her baby, not wishing for her milk to dry up.

So deep in her thoughts, Nicky had managed to drown out Parker's cries. They were echoing through the apartment, and though Nicky was ignorant to them, Marka was not. The older woman stirred in bed.

Nicky felt Marka's hand on her arm before she sensed her presence. If she was honest, it scared her a little.

"Sweetheart?" Marka asked, her forehead creased. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and ran her hand along Nicky's arm. Nicky dropped her arm out of reach and looked at her. "The formula is in the cabinet," she continued, reaching for it. She took it from the shelf and placed it on the countertop, waiting for Nicky to make the next move. When she did nothing but look overwhelmed, Marka sighed. "You can't leave her hungry. She'll scream the place down!"

Nicky blinked at Marka, and handed Parker to her. Turning to the countertop, she painstakingly measured out a scoop of formula and mixed it into the bottle. Without saying a word or turning around, she heated the bottle and then shook it wordlessly. Marka hadn't meant it unkindly, but it was yet another failure to in Nicky's eyes.

Looking at Marka, anger bubbled underneath Nicky's surface. She only wanted Red. Yet she was stuck with Marka. Just like Parker was stuck with her.

"Ready?" Marka asked, smiling in the soft half light of the kitchen. She laughed quietly as Parker scowled. Sometimes she looked at her granddaughter and was transported back thirty years. It was a conflicting feeling when she saw glimpses of Nicky in her, and she wished things could have been different between her and her daughter, but what was done couldn't be undone. They could only work through it. Her laugh faded and she turned to Nicky. "I think she's ready."

Nicky clutched Parker to her chest, feeling utterly out of her depth. She guided the bottle to Parker's lips and let out a sigh of relief when she knew what to do instantly, getting lost in the bottle almost immediately. Marka watched her daughter and baby and stepped aside.

"I have to get up for work in the morning," Marka said after a beat.

Nicky rocked on her heels, remaining wordless. She nodded reluctantly, not wanting to ask her to stay but also not wanting to be left alone.

"I'll leave you two alone. Call me if you need anything, okay?"


Nicky's face screwed up as the sunlight streamed through her curtains. Morning had arrived despite all of her prayers that it wouldn't. She groaned as she stretched her arms out. The silkiness of her sheets took her by surprise - remembering she wasn't in prison anymore was a feat she hadn't expected.

Wiggling her toes under the toasty sheets, she forced her eyes open. How had she ever left her bed before she went to prison? It was so comfortable. In her cosy fortress, the outside world could take a hike. She took a moment to drink in the serene silence, until it was broken.

Marka's voice floated through the apartment. "Nicky's still in bed," she said, the stress evident in her voice. Nicky wondered who she was talking to until a familiar Russian accent piped up. Parker's cries drowned out a lot of noise, and Nicky strained to hear.

Red was unapologetic in her answer, and as always, blunt. "Why?"

"I didn't want to wake her," Marka said. In the kitchen, she juggled a briefcase in one hand and Parker on the other arm. She passed Parker to Red, who quietened down. Her voice lowered, but not enough to make it too quiet for Nicky to hear. "I heard her last night," Marka admitted, running a hand across her forehead in concern. "She must have been up ten times."

Red nodded thoughtfully. She wound a finger around Parker's curls, the weight of a baby in her arms completely natural to her. "Teething, maybe? Parker usually sleeps so well."

Marka's eyes flitted to her granddaughter. "I don't think Parker was the problem."

Red met Marka's eye, mother to mother. She nodded. "I see," she said, then after a beat, she continued. "You go, Mrs Nichols. I can handle things here."

Marka didn't have to be told twice. With a grateful smile to Red, she was out of the door. And Red was already on her way to Nicky's bedroom door.


Without rapping on the door, Red yanked it open. Nicky looked up guiltily, but pushed the feeling down. Instead, she scowled at Red. "Ever heard of knocking?"

Red raised her eyebrows. Walking over to the curtains, she pulled them open. A sudden stream of harsh light flooded into the room. Nicky squinted up at her.

Red smiled at Nicky, ignoring her moody greeting. "Ever heard of morning?"

Nicky sighed, but threw the covers off of her. "I take your point," she grumbled. She had her legs out of the bed when Red held a hand up.

"I'm only joking," she said, feeling a stab of guilt. Adjusting to life on the outside was hard, she reminded herself. Give her time. "Why don't you watch Parker while I make you some breakfast, hmm? You can eat it in bed, my treat."

It wasn't something she usually offered. When her boys were young, they had to make their own breakfast. She was far too busy to be pouring cereal and glasses of juice for boys who were more than capable. Breakfast in bed was a foreign concept, something only seen in movies.

Yet her girl - girls, now - had softened her. That, and age. She no longer had to rush around in the mornings and had time for those special moments. Ageing had made her realize how fleeting these moments truly were. And if she was honest with herself, she cherished them. But it still put a smile on her face to imagine her boys' reactions to their ma bringing someone breakfast on a tray.

Red was putting Parker down next to Nicky when she finally jumped up. "No, that's okay," she said quickly, tugging at her pajamas. "Will you watch her while I shower?"

"Why don't you take her with you?" Red said, scooping up Parker from the bed. The way Nicky had bolted away from her daughter concerned Red. It was like she'd been burned. "I don't know if she'll like it, but it's worth a try."

Anxiety was written all over Nicky's face. She reached behind her neck and coiled a hair round her finger, pulling at it. "I don't know," she said, her eyes crinkling. "I can barely keep hold of the loofah. I'll drop her."

Red watched as Nicky rubbed at her left foot with her right in a repetitive motion. "Okay," she said easily. She met Nicky's eye, her concerns mounting. "I'll watch her. You shower. But she'll need a bath afterwards, you know."

"Why don't you use Marka's bathroom?" Nicky said over her shoulder. "It's warmer in there for her, anyway."

Red's forehead creased. "You don't want to bath her?"

Nicky's fist curled into a ball. "I want to spend the day catching up with you," she said, avoiding the question. "I've missed you."

It did the job of tugging on Red's heartstrings. "Okay," she said reluctantly. "I'll bathe Parker. Have your shower, go on."


After her shower, Nicky padded out of the bathroom. The shower had refreshed her. Her favorite soap had been placed in the basket, a warm fluffy towel was hung up for her, and the water was hot! She walked into the kitchen. The solitude was peaceful, and she sat at the table with a glass of water. As she sipped, she looked around.

Red's bag was propped on the island. A large envelope stuck out of the top, almost an invitation to go and have a closer look.

Nicky looked over her shoulder. She could hear splashing coming from the bathroom and, safe in the knowledge that Red would never leave Parker in the tub alone, crept over to Red's bag. The letter poking out curiously from the top was too tempting. The stamp that showed it was from Litchfield Correctional Facility piqued her interest even more.

She drummed her fingers on the table. Well, if Red didn't want me to see it, she bargained with herself, then she would have hid it better. It was a pretty sore excuse, but she took it. Snatching the letter up, she ran her finger under the seal and opened it cleanly.

Dear Red,

Your girl is doing okay. I know that's what you want to hear first off. Well, as okay as any mama in here can be, you know? She says she's fine, but I know she misses you.

A sad smile swept Nicky's face. She had missed Red, more so than anyone could have understood with words alone. She let out a breath through her nose. If that was the case, then why wasn't she in there now? Tears sprang to her eyes. Why wasn't she in there, enjoying seeing the first bath she could have given her daughter?

She couldn't even come up with an answer for herself.

Tears splashed down onto the letter. "Shit," Nicky muttered, wiping the tears off of her cheeks and then the page. She was so preoccupied that she barely noticed Red walking into the kitchen, Parker dressed in a duck hooded towel on her hip.

"Lorna didn't teach you anything about mail fraud, then," Red said, unimpressed. Despite her raised brows, she wasn't particularly mad. It was nice to see Nicky interested in something, at least. Marka's warning and Nicky's own behavior had Red rather concerned.

Nicky jumped. "Sorry, ma," she said, her voice thick. "But you know she wasn't in there for mail fraud, right? She's a fucking fantasist."

But Nicky bit her lip. She might have been crazy, but she was her type of crazy, and she missed her. Like crazy.

"I know," Red said, her voice suddenly softer. She'd noticed the tears. She took the letter from Nicky's hands and guided her to sit. "Hey," she said, brushing wet strands of hair from her face. She sat down across from her, Parker in her lap. "What's wrong? Is it Lorna, you miss her?"

"Nothing," Nicky said. The tears streaming down her face left Red feeling unconvinced. "Nothing, really."

Red sympathized. "We can visit Lorna. Hormones can do funny things, you know. They fuck you up." She glanced down at Parker. "Whoops. No cursing in front of Iva."

Nicky managed a smile, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. When she'd first heard Red referring to Parker as Iva, she'd wondered what on earth she was talking about. Red had smiled a little reservedly, and explained that it meant Willow in Russian. Her own babushka had always called her by her middle name, and she wanted Parker to know she was special.

"Now, what's up?" Red said. She wrapped the towel tighter around the baby, raising her eyebrows at Nicky. "Gloria said you were doing okay, I see," she said, glancing down at the letter. "She's one of the good ones, you know. Shit mail delivery from the justice system, though," she noted. "Cursing again. Parker's first word is going to turn the air blue."

Nicky snickered. Right now, swearing was the least of her concerns. She leaned onto Red, and her heart ached as Parker's fingers tangled in her hair and she leaned in for a closer look of her mommy.

"I would do anything for her," Nicky sobbed into Red, the older woman's fingers raking through knots in her hair. "I know everyone said I would, and I thought it was bullshit, but I really would." She reached out to touch Parker. The curls that were so much like her own were baby soft and silky from her bath.

Red cupped Nicky's face in her hand, tilting her chin up to force Nicky to look in her eyes. She raised her brows, feeling rather slow on the uptake. "That's mothers for you," she said, shifting in her seat. "But what's wrong, malyshka?"

For the first time, she let herself think about her feelings. She stopped pushing them down and trying to shove a lid on a can of fireworks, because she felt ready to explode, and the sparks were gonna hurt everyone if she wasn't careful.

"I'd do anything for her," she repeated, squeezing her eyes shut. "But how can I love someone I don't even know?" Tears streamed down Nicky's face and Red had never seen her crying harder, not even on that first night they met. An uneasy feeling settled in the Russian's stomach. Her chest heaved at the sight of her daughter looking so distraught, though she tried to hide it.

"She's my world, Red, but I don't love her!"

A/N:

It's been some time!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review telling me your thoughts.
How is everyone?! Enjoying Spring, I hope...

- Star xo