Talia walked back to the Den with her eyes as wide as pie-plates.

The rest of the Strays except Shield (who was on first watch) were asleep. She wanted to wake them and tell them the good news immediately, but decided to wait. Let them start off their night with a good howl before they prepared to face a mew enemy. She didn't want to wake up Tarloh, so she headed down and slept in Red's chamber for the day. Could it be that something had really finally went their way?

Jane's morning had been exhausting to say the least. She had met with the sheriff, the judge, someone from the department of paroles ...

Jane was the sole heir to her mother's estate, such as it was. Now, she was waiting in the overly-clean and glaringly white waiting room of the psychiatric hospital. The front staff had been surprised, as had the guards and orderlies. No one had come to visit Ms. Abigail Collier in a long time except her lawyer. The head nurse wasn't sure what to expect. Abigail hadn't spoken since before being sentenced.

"Don't be surprised if she doesn't talk to you," the nurse said.

"She hasn't said a word in years."

"I know," Jane whispered.

"There will be a guard in the room and we can view the cameras from here. You will be perfectly safe," the woman said. She wanted to ask where the inmate's daughter had been all these years, but didn't. She had read the file, so she knew that Jane didn't really owe anyone any explanations.

"I'll be right here," Red said, having a seat in the lobby.

Jane walked down the barren hallway to the locked door. There was a guard on this side . . . a large, brutish looking woman who didn't look particularly interested in goings on. The door whirred and clicked as Jane approached, and it appeared to open of its own accord.

The next room had a number of small white plastic tables surrounded by white plastic chairs. The tables were placed at clearly defined intervals from each other. It looked . . . bleak. Only one table was occupied, and its occupant was sitting with her back to the door.

Abigail Collier was in a daze. She had been for a long time. She didn't feel comfortable in that room. It always felt as hollow as she did. She was only in it when her attorney dropped by to check on her. He had been there just a month... a few. . . actually, she didn't remember the last time. Not that it mattered. Nothing ever really changed or "Hom?"

Abigail's silent and dry world came to a halt. ‘Impossible,’ she thought. She knew she was disturbed. Apparently, she had now officially gone insane. ‘That voice . . . God, why are you tormenting me? I am being punished, but now you mock me?' She heard the voice again. It was a voice filled with no small amount of fear, but it was so clear and so real.

"Mom? It's me," came the voice in a choked whisper.

Jane's mother's hands were trembling and her skin had gone cold. Did she dare? She stood up. She heard the inside guard shift her weight nervously. She slowly turned her head, peeking through her unkempt hair. She saw her angel. Older, but innocent. Beautiful, but tired.

Hopeful, but afraid.

"Juh . . ." she started, her throat raspy from disuse.

"Jane?"

Jane was crying. She had, in some corner of her heart, wanted to hate her mother for letting what happened happen. But she couldn't.

Her mother . . . this broken bird before her . . . was punishing herself. So Jane went with something that came much more naturally to her spirit and temperament. She wanted to offer solace. Guards and cameras be damned, she threw her arms around her mother and wept.

Her mother was dumfounded. The tears came, but she was scarcely aware of them. What did finally arrive was the realization that her daughter was there. After all those years, the girl she had failed had returned.

The guard looked surprised, as did the nurse watching over the monitor. It was clear that Jane was in no danger, so they allowed the embrace to continue despite it being a violation of policy. The nurse was just shocked to hear Abigail's voice. All the therapists, counseling and drugs the doctors could concoct couldn't do what this young woman's presence had accomplished.

“I'm... so... . sorry," Abigail cried.

“Me too," Jane whispered.