Gaia had done everything but hold Tatiana's hand as she escorted her down the excessively mauve hallway to the oversized front door of their apartment. It was like walking someone home after some particularly painful surgery. Each one of Tatiana's steps seemed slower and more difficult than the last.

Maybe it was her imagination, but Gaia could have sworn that Tatiana hadn't blinked in the last forty-five minutes. Not since they'd made it clear of the burning building on Eighteenth Street. Not for the entire cab ride home. Her eyes seemed to stay fixed on one particular point somewhere in the distance. Sometimes a few tears would fall from the corners, and sometimes they looked as dry as dead leaves, but they never seemed to close.

Gaia had said it at least five times already, but she knew that she would need to repeat it as many times as necessary until it cut through the black fog that had obviously swallowed Tatiana whole.

"Will you listen to me?" Gaia begged. "Your mother is not dead. And neither is my father." Once again Gaia needed a millisecond to convince herself of these facts, but she quickly overcame her doubts. If there was one thing she knew about her father, it was that he'd always been a survivor. And assuming he and Natasha were together wherever the hell they were, she knew he'd make damn sure that Natasha was surviving, too. Besides, now was not the time for Gaia to give in to her ever-growing list of questions about Natasha and her father. Now was the time to trust her instincts and be strong. For herself and for Tatiana. Tatiana was already devastated and confused enough for both of them. It gave Gaia something to fight against. And that was always when she was at her best.

"Can you open your mouth and make words, please?" Gaia insisted, trying to find Tatiana's eyes under her sweep of blond hair. "I'm telling you, he's lying. Everything he says is a lie."

Tatiana was completely unresponsive. She stood frozen at the front door with her head tilted forward like a marionette with a broken string. Gaia wondered how long Tatiana would have stood there if she hadn't unlocked the door for her. She had to keep trying. Not just to talk some sense into the girl, but to fill in the much-too-depressing silence as they entered the empty apartment.

Empty couldn't even begin to explain it. It was emptier than empty. It was hollow. Tonight the lofty apartment seemed to echo like those filthy tunnels by the West Side Highway. And it was just as black as it was empty. Gaia jumped to the first available lamp and snapped it on, along with any other lamp in the way-too-spacious living room. This was an old ritual for her, part of a three-step plan to counter oppressive loneliness and fill in the silence and darkness. The first was to snap on as many lamps as possible (no overhead lights, since they were more depressing than absolute darkness). The second was to open all blinds, curtains, or shades (particularly at night -- streetlights and store lights were far less depressing than sunshine). And the third was to turn on either the TV (preferably MTV, as this would make noise but require no attention) or the radio (a classical station would generally be the best choice since all song lyrics were potentially depressing).

She raced through the three steps, opting for a classical station on the radio, only to find that Tatiana was still standing by the doorway, staring into her own personal abyss. She leapt back to Tatiana's side and dragged her to the living-room couch, where she set her down. She then jogged to the kitchen for emergency supplies: Hostess assorted breakfast doughnuts, lime-flavored tortilla chips, and salsa. She dumped a pitcher of water and a mound of coffee into the coffeemaker, flipped it on, and then made her way back to the living room.

She wished she could simply hand over a piece of her emotional armor to Tatiana. If she could just crack off a piece of the old petrified crusty shell that she had formed from five long years of tragic deaths, sadistic lies, and kicks to the chest and head. But it couldn't be done. It went against all the laws of emotional physics. This was clearly Tatiana's first experience with pure unadulterated horror, and recovering from the first time was damn near impossible.

Gaia suddenly found herself flashing back to her own first time. She could hear the sound of gunshots echoing through her old kitchen. She could see the rivulet of blood trickling from her mother's open mouth as her father tried to lift her lifeless frame into his arms. Even then it had been Loki with the gun. It didn't matter if he'd been aiming for her father or not. Either way, one of Gaia's parents had been going to die that night five years ago. And Loki was the murderer. It was always Loki.

She could ward off the depression and anguish, but the anger... each additional thought was making it more difficult to keep the anger in check. Every memory, every image of Loki's face, so much like her father's and nothing like her father's. Unless, of course, he was her father.

Stay cool, Gaia, she demanded of herself. Keep your head cool. She would get to him in due time. She knew that now. She would have to. She was giving in to simple logic. Loki had raised the stakes tonight. She could see it in his eyes as he stood there taunting her from behind a wall of Plexiglas in that eerie lab of his. Something had changed. Until tonight, Gaia had always sensed that Loki wanted something from her, that he had some kind of agenda. But tonight he hadn't seemed to want anything. Except to see her and Tatiana burned to a crisp. He had to be dealt with now. He had to be neutralized, even if only in self-defense.
One thing at a time, she reminded herself. This moment was about Tatiana -- about waking her up. Gaia sat down next to her, keeping as much distance as Tatiana seemed to need.

"I know him," Gaia said, staring at Tatiana's cold profile. "Loki will say anything. He'll say whatever hurts the most. Whatever he's sure will leave you totally incapacitated. But it's all lies, Tatiana. All of it."

"You don't know this," Tatiana murmured, barely even opening her mouth. But at least she'd spoken. That was good. That was something. At least she was past clinical shock.

"I do," Gaia insisted. "I know it. I know him."

"You can't know it for sure."

Gaia paused for a brief moment, because of course Tatiana was right. Especially considering Loki's shift in demeanor. Maybe he had moved past cleverness and deception now. Maybe murder was all that remained of his plan.

"You see?" Tatiana's voice cracked as tears began to flow again from the corners of her bloodshot eyes. "You don't know a damn thing, Gaia. Not a thing."

Tatiana leaned her body into the corner of the couch, curling her entire frame into something resembling the fetal position as she gave in to her tears.

Gaia was at a complete loss. Yes, she and Tatiana had found some mutual respect, and they had begun to forge some kind of familial relationship -- but the only thing Gaia could possibly do now would be to hold Tatiana. To cradle her somehow. And that just wasn't going to happen. For one thing, that kind of intimacy would have required removing the thick protective shell Gaia had worked so hard at creating. And for another thing, well... that just wasn't going to happen. Not with Tatiana. Not yet. Probably not for a few more years, if ever. But Gaia had to think of something to do for the poor girl.

"Look," she said quietly as she debated what to do with her hands -- the ones that should have been hugging Tatiana's shoulders. "Look, we'll... we'll find her." Tatiana said nothing. She only wrapped her arms around herself, making Gaia feel even guiltier for not being able to provide any kind of physical affection herself. "We'll find them both," Gaia promised. "I'll find them both."

From out of absolute nowhere, Gaia suddenly felt a shock of emotions crash through her. How many times had she promised herself that she'd find someone -- her father, Sam, Mary? How many times had she failed? How many times had she been too late? Tatiana's tears were beginning to break her will, and she knew it. Tatiana was one of the few people Gaia had ever met who actually seemed to have the same kind of strength as Gaia, the same kind of will. And here she was, curled up in the corner of the couch, crying like a baby. Gaia was beginning to get the horrid feeling that she just might be next.

Thank God for that ringing phone.

Both of their heads snapped toward the black phone on the dining table, mesmerized by its sudden shrill electronic ring. Tatiana leapt from the couch, stumbling over the coffee table and knocking over the chips and salsa as she flew for the phone on the other side of the room. Gaia held her breath and prayed. She prayed that it would be Natasha on that phone. If only to rescue Gaia from the impossible task of consoling Tatiana. Or maybe, just maybe, it could also be her father. Because a few moments more of this unbearable scene and Gaia wasn't sure she'd be able to console herself.