Paxton feels as that child again, before things went skewed. Or was it after, was that better? He couldn't remember. It was a blur, past and present, life and death, bright florescent lights reflected off one-way mirror and darkness.

They were often one and the same.

He moves forward, ethereal feet not really touching the ground in the mimicry of walking, before he kneels by her legs and rests his head on her hand.

"Mother."