Chapter 6

Things might slow down a little bit from here on in terms of updates. Be warned.

Nicky walked as quickly as she could back to her bunk, tears coming fast and ready. She tried, but they would not be quelled, so her best option would be to get back home where she could cry in peace. She felt for her chip; holding it always made her feel calmer.

But it wasn't there - she had left it in visitation. The thought of going back to get it repulsed her, so instead Nicky fell onto her mattress with a thump. She would go back and get it later, from the guard. But, from experience, she would be anxious until she did.

Finally, now alone, Nicky let her feelings loose and sobbed, as quietly as was possible, into the pillow. Though she knew Marka didn't love her, having it so readily apparent for the first time in a long while was bringing back memories.

Marka had never really had been Nicky's mother - everyone concerned knew that. I could have sworn it was the brown woman who made me pancakes every day.

Paloma was more a mom than Marka could ever hope to be, but it was literally her job to act as though she loved Nicky. She knew now, looking back on her childhood, that this hadn't been real either.

She wished she had someone - no, she wished she had Red - to comfort her. To show her that she was loved, and that there was a place she belonged.

And then, as if hearing this, Red was there.

Nicky felt the mattress dip under the extra weight, and then a loving touch.

"It's okay, I'm here. I'm here."

As Red ran her fingers through Nicky's hair, whispering soothing words, Nicky got exactly what she needed. She felt important - needed - loved. She turned in the older woman's arms, clutching at her as if afraid she'd disappear if she let go.

"I'm not going to leave you, honey."

Gradually, she felt herself calming under Red's attentions. The tears stopped, and she sat up slowly, looking her mother in the eyes and trying to convey with her own how much this meant.

"Thank you, Ma."

"It's what I do."

"I love you."

"And I you," she responded with a bitter smile. "Remember that the next time that witch feels obligated to talk to you."

"I'm taking her off my visitation list, I swear to God." Nicky's ire rose once again. "I just, I don't know why she keeps pretending she cares - you know?" As she spoke, Nicky buried her face into her mother's neck, trying to shut out the world at large.

It took several moments for Red to figure out what to say. She'd never been in Nicky's position, and could in no way say she knew how Nicky felt, but she could offer advice and comfort.

"I think she wants to care, and that's her problem," she said, stroking Nicky's hair softly.

"Oh, yeah, she tries so hard," Nicky replied, her tone vengeful and disdaining. She felt her eyes filling with tears again, and cursed her own lack of restraint.

But then, Red was never someone who judged.

"I know, honey. I know. But you have to remember, she is your mother."

Nicky gave a bitter laugh, shaking her head wildly.

"She gave up the right to that title long ago. She's been just Marka to me longer than I can remember."

Red would never let this on, but the words made her feel a flash of happiness. She was, and always would be, Nicky's only mother.

"In her mind," Nicky continued, "I'm a good-for-nothing delinquent. That's it. You're my mom, and that's not changing."

And as her daughter so perfectly voiced her own thoughts, Red realized they knew each other better than even they had thought.

"Oh, here you go," Red said, fishing around in her pocket before pulling out Nicky's chip. "You left this."

Because Red was always so perfectly attuned to her, she had noticed. Nicky smiled widely as she took it, returning it to its rightful place around her neck and pulling her mother in for a hug.

"Thank you Mommy," she said, the statement holding so many meanings that even she didn't know them all.

"It's my pleasure."

And it was.

As much as Nicky dreaded it, if she was going to get Marka off her list she would have to talk to Healy. She hated the man, but he was her assigned counselor and had to be the one to handle these things.

She leaned against the open doorframe, watching as he pretended to fill out paperwork with a smirk.

"Mr. Healy," she called, and he jumped.

"Oh, Nichols. Come on in."

Nicky settled herself in the chair across from his, putting her feet up on the desk and lacing her fingers together.

"I got a problem, Mr. Healy."

Immediately, he went into what she called his 'counselor' mode, pulling on his glasses and taking out a pen. She barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Tell me all about it."

Inwardly, Nicky cringed.

"Well, it's like this. I gotta get Marka off my visitation list."

"Mar-your mother Marka?" She growled quietly.

"Officially, I guess so. Yeah."

"But you disagree with that?"

"Always have."

"Then who -exactly- is your mother?"

She could tell she was just confusing him more, and crossed her arms.

"Red. Red is."

He slumped back in his chair, pulling off the glasses, and huffed a sigh.

"A prison mother is no substitute for the real thing, Nicky."

"Neither was Marka! The housekeeper pretty much raised me, okay? Just get her off my list."

"Okay, okay," he acquiesced, seeing she was angry, "I'll see what I can do."

That went as well as it could've, Nicky thought as she walked out.

"And so the penguin says, he's not an eggplant, man, he's retarded!"

Nicky chuckled quietly at her own joke, but was surprised when Red did not join her. She looked up from the carrot she was chopping to find Red watching her with a mixture of curiosity and horror.

"What's wrong?"

"Nicky, where did you hear that?"

Nicky shrugged, trying to remember who'd originally told it to her.

"I don't know, I think it might've been a friend from… before, you know? When I was still…" She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence, but she didn't have to.

"Why?" she found herself asking instead.

"That joke is partially why I'm in here," Red replied, gesturing around her at the room in general.

Now Nicky was well and truly confused.

Red had never deigned to speak about her past before, never wanted to tell anyone about her crimes - even Nicky didn't know the full extent of her involvement with the Mafia.

But this joke - this one, simple joke, could have been the unwitting key to all of that.

"Are you going to keep going, or what?" She asked incredulously after Red didn't continue.

"Yeah," she chuckled, "I suppose that's not enough for you to go on, ah? Maybe after work."

For the rest of the shift -which admittedly wasn't even Nicky's to take- her performance was slack at best. Red had to remind her several times what she was doing, usually with a smirk. Nicky, in turn, kept telling her that it was her fault for making her wait.

But, stubbornly, Red held onto her secrets for just a little while longer, retaining an air of mystery that Nicky was intrigued by. When work hours drew to a close, she practically jumped for joy, speed-walking back to the bunk as fast as her legs could carry her.

Red chuckled, shaking her head as she walked behind. Her daughter could be so childish sometimes… but that was all part of her charm to Red.

They did get there in the end, too soon for Red and not soon enough for Nicky. The latter watched the former with anticipation, and Red had to admit she didn't hate the attention.

"Okay, let's hear it," Nicky said, patting the bunk next to her. Red sat, taking a moment to make herself comfortable.

"It's a difficult story for me to tell," she said carefully.

"So's mine," Nicky reminded, "and you know every little detail of that."

Of course, she was right. Red felt guilty for not remembering that.

So, she took a deep breath, and she told.

She spoke of her husband, Dmitri, and their shop… her gaze grew wistful thinking about it, back in the old days when they had nothing to worry about but where the money for the next day was coming from. She talked of the high-paying customers, whom she learned over time were much more than met the eye.

"Dmitri made me befriend their wives," she said bitterly. "We were nothing alike. We came from different worlds. I told them that joke, in fact, but they laughed at me."

"It's a good joke, Ma. I don't get it."

"Imagine if I told that one to Marka."

"Okay," Nicky replied in a moment, "I see."

At that, they chuckled together for a moment.

"I got so angry over it, and the way they treated me in general, that I shoved one of them. It wouldn't have been that bad, but in doing it I accidentally popped her… prosthetic."

Nicky laughed, but quickly stopped when she noticed Red's face. She looked sad, regretful.

"That boob job cost $60,000. $60,000." She sighed, putting her face in her hands. "We didn't have anywhere near that kind of money, so Dmitri let the Mafia walk all over him. They hid shit in our freezer, God knows what... of course, I was the one minding the store, so the police caught me. 15 years in here as an accessory to… whatever the fuck they did." The last was bitter, angry, as if she still resented her husband. She did.

"Wow," Nicky spoke at last. "That sucks."

Red laughed quietly.

"Yes, indeed."