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She finds out she’s pregnant when she’s still in Lynchwood, and fuck if it isn’t all so inconvenient. She has shit to do, bandits to round up. How's she supposed to do that while rocking a baby bump?
She holds the pregnancy stick in her hand, trying her best to stop herself from losing the plot completely. She feels like the test is mocking her; a little purple plus symbol. She thinks they should replace it with “Haha you’re fucked” instead.
Her fingers clench around the stick as her heart beats hard in her throat. She’s not sure how she feels. Sure, she and Jack had spoke about kids, joked about it really. That was just something they did occassionally after a long evening of playing between the sheets. He’d comb his fingers through her hair and she’d press her cheek to his chest, listening to him ramble on and on about imaginary babies.
A son and a daughter; a brother and a sister for Angel. Heirs for Hyperion. Jack wanted them to look like him. Of course he did. Nisha didn’t care who they look like, only that they twins so she only has to get fat once.
But that was just a nice bit of pillow talk, a fantasy. It wasn’t real.
Until now.
Her deputy says something to her, and she responds by hurling the pregnancy test at him. He topples in surprise and the clatter of him crashing to the ground is oddly satisfying.
She’ll tell Jack tomorrow, before she shoves the test down his fucking throat.
The days blend into each other and she still hasn’t told him. She tells herself she’ll tell him tomorrow. She’s a big brave girl. She can do this. She’s been rehearsing it in her head:
Hey Jack, remember how you’ve always wanted a son to take over Hyperion when you’re an old fuck? Well cowboy, you might get your wish.
Jack, do Hyperion make baby cribs? We might be needing one soon.
Jack...I’m pregnant.
But then Angel dies and everything changes. He changes. She hardly recognises this stranger in Jack’s place.
“Jack?”
He turns around, and there’s something wild in his eyes; a madness unlike anything she’s seen before. The words die in her throat as her hand comes down to rest upon her lower belly instinctively.
“Yeah?” His face is a rictus of rage, grief, hurt. He’s coming apart at the seams, barely there. A shell of his former self.
And she can’t bring herself to tell him.
“I…” Damn it girl. Spit it out! Don’t damn well hesitate now.
Yet still she does.
She chokes.
She can’t tell him now. Not with his first child dead barely dead a week. “Fuck, never mind. It’s nothin’”
“Alright, whatever.”
Once the Vault hunters are dealt with, she’ll tell him. He’ll be in a better place to understand it once he’s taken his revenge for his kid. Maybe it will even make him smile again.
Tomorrow finally comes.
And Handsome Jack is dead.
She doesn’t remember much of her pregnancy. It feels as if it happened to someone else, a different person. Maybe it did. She knows her head wasn’t in the right place then.
But she definitely remembers considering to get rid of the baby. She’s a sheriff, a law bringer, and occasionally a bandit. She’s good at killing, at causing pain, not being nurturing and all that bullshit. She doesn’t know the first thing about kids. She’s got no frame of reference, after the train wreck that was her childhood.
And she definitely remembers contacting Janey Springs and Athena. She remembers that conversation very well.
Springs is silent after Nisha tells her. “…Do you want to keep it?” she asks quietly.
“I…” There’s a hard lump in her throat and she can’t speak. It’s been happening a lot lately..
Springs continues on the other end. “Because if you don’t, it’s okay. I know someone who can help. It’s your choice Nisha.”
She wants to say that she doesn’t. She isn’t mother material. She isn’t cut out for any of that. She’s build for killing. She’s etched a pretty good living out of it. It’s second nature at this point.
Yet her hand linger on her stomach. Her baby will be only eight or nine weeks old at most; her tiny little piece of Jack. Could she spend the rest of her life wondering what might have been?
She can’t give that up. She won’t give that up. She'll have nothing left otherwise.
“No, I cant.”
The decision exhausts her so much that she can’t even refuse Springs’s offer that she come and stay with them even though it isn’t safe, and there’s still Vault Hunters looking for Handsome Jack’s allies. “It will be alright Nisha, you’ll see,” she says.
Nisha almost believes her.
When Nisha’s world falls apart, her belly is sticking out of her jeans and she can no longer get her holsters around her hips. Her back is too sore to handle the weight of a rifle either.
So far, it’s the worst thing to happen to her throughout the pregnancy; worse than the morning sickness and the mood swings that even make Athena run for the hills.
“You little shithead,” she says to her bloated stomach, running a hand over the expanded skin. “Can’t drink, can’t smoke. Now I can’t even kill shit because of you. You’re no fun ya know?”
The response is in a kick against her palm. It’s the strangest experience she’s felt to date. Something warm, foreign stirs in her chest.
“Hmm think so huh?”
Her baby kicks again, a little harder this time as if to agree with her.
She smiles then properly for the first time in months. Her baby is strong, eager to make their presence known to the world. “Oh you’re definitely your daddy’s baby alright,” Nisha says, and for the briefest of brief moments, she imagines Jack running his square tipped, rough palmed hands over her stomach. Her skin prickles with imaginary goosebumps and she almost hears his voice in her head: “That’s my little hero. Gonna kill all the Vault hunters huh? Well don’t start with mommy, daddy needs her.”
Then she stops being an idiot. It hurts too much to be an idiot.
She names her son Jake. Jake Kadam.
It feels right. She’s always been a fan of Jakob’s rifles – which always made Jack grump and tut with disapproval. And it’s similar enough that she’ll think of his dad whenever she says it.
Her son is two weeks old when they run away from Hollow Point. Her own wanted poster drives her out, stamped with Lilith’s promise of a sizeable reward for the “Sheriff of Lynchwood, girlfriend of Handsome Jack.” She can’t risk being found. Not anymore. Her own thought patterns startles her. She’s never turned away from a fight before. She’s always relished them.
But then, she considers as she slings rifle over her shoulder while doing her best not to wake her son, she’s never been a mother either.
Jake is in full screaming mode when she makes a call to Springs, feeling like a teenager missing curfew. She has no choice. She can’t get him to settle long enough to even eat. Two days and he hasn’t eaten. He won’t take to her. He just howls like he’s dying, but she can’t find anything wrong.
It’s a sound Nisha will carry to her grave.
Springs is as optimistic as ever when she answers. There’s something almost soothing about her accent, something that eases her. “Nisha! We’ve been looking for you! Why’d you run off like that? We’ve been so worried about you and little Jakey”
She’s hidden well then if Athena can’t even find her. She tries to smile but she’s exhausted from everything, from the childbirth and Jake’s crying. She can barely hold herself together as she takes a deep breath. “Janey.”
But bless Springs and her heart of gold. She’s a good sort. She just knows straight away that something isn’t quite right. “Nisha? You alright? You don’t sound too good. What’s wrong?”
Jake is still bawling; his little face bright red and tiny fists clenched in pain. She hasn’t even got a cot for him, just a little spot on the mattress next to her. “It’s Jake. I can’t…”
“Nisha. Talk to me. What’s happened?”
“He won’t stop cryin’. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I don’t know what to do.” Her voice doesn’t sound like her own anymore. It sounds horrible, so fragile that it might shatter into a million pieces. It makes her sick.
Springs is calm on the other end as she replies. She doesn’t lecture or sigh or tut or say ‘I told you so’. She doesn't accuse her of being an unfit parent. She’s as helpful as ever. “Nisha, babe, where are you? Tell me so we can come and find you.”
She could have cried, but there’s not enough energy in her for that. Instead she wordlessly punches in the coordinates of where she’s camped out, in the middle of nowhere so the Vault Hunters can’t find them. She can hear the Skags roaming around outside, attracted by Jake’s noise. She’s so tired she can’t even raise a pistol to warn them off. They’re going to get in if she’s not careful. And she hasn’t got the fight anymore.
“Okay we’ve got your location. We’ll leave now and we’ll there as soon as we can. It will be alright babe.”
It still hurts to hear someone other than Jack call her ‘babe’, but it’s comforting regardless.
She’s never held any stock in deities or god or religion. She’s seen too much to believe otherwise. But Janey Springs is as close to a saint as Nisha will ever know. Janey Springs can’t be real. She was too good to be real.
She’s in an old arm chair, watching the salvager walk about her little shack with Jake and is reminded that Janey Springs is very much real. Outside, Athena is shooting down Skags and any bandit who strays too close. For a moment, Nisha wishes she could be out there too. But she’s content enough to just watch Jake babble delightedly as Springs tells him the tale of Flamey the Kraggon. It’s a nice change and she has to admit, her son is pretty cute when he isn’t screaming his head off.
“Nisha, eat up,” Springs says, bouncing a giggling Jake on her scarred hip. She’s a natural at parenting, Nisha thinks. The sort of mom she should have had. “Gotta get your strength back.”
“Do you nag Athena this much?” she replies, but she’s grateful for the soup that Springs has rustled up. Definitely better than anything she could have made.
It’s been three weeks since Springs and Athena came rolling up in an old Technical. Her strength returns slowly, bit by bit. Springs’s soups and stews seem to build her from the ground up again. Flesh returns to her bones, settling back on her hips and chest. She’s starting to feel like her old self. She likes the woman she sees in the mirror again.
Those were the good days, just the three of them plus Jake. A Dysfunctional little family that lasts for six full months. Even Athena smiles more and worries less.
Springs teaches her everything she needs to know with a firm and patient hand. Her own mom didn’t know how to make up bottles, only how to throw them.
By the time Springs and Athena have to move on again, Jake is the proud owner of a new crib. Athena puts it together and Springs paints it with yellow matt and extraordinary patience. It’s far nicer than anything Nisha herself had as a child.
“Why yellow?” Nisha asks, sipping on some sort of weak tea concoction. Over a year since her pregnancy and she’s still not allowed a real drink. Breast feeding is such a damn hassle.
Springs smiles and it brightens up the entire room as if she’s made of sunshine. “Well, his dad would have wanted it yellow right?”
She’s never specifically told them who his dad was, but she suspects they’ve always known. They just won't say it. Handsome Jack is still a taboo name on Pandora.
As Springs starts to stencil little caricature of a skag onto the headboard, Nisha leans back against the doorframe. She can almost feel Jack’s hand on her back, and Helios watching over them. “Yeah, he would of.”
Jake is walking by the time he’s ten months old. He skipped the crawling stage altogether and it isn’t all and all surprising. He’s the son of Handsome Jack after all, just as stubborn as his father. Jack always had somewhere to be, something to do, someone to kill.
She swallows the memories down as she holds Jake’s tiny little hands. He finds his unsteady footing, testing himself. “Atta boy Jake.”
Chubby baby legs shake under unfamiliar weight. But he’s a strong-minded little boy, even for ten months. He’s inherited a mile long streak of stubbornness from them both. “Mama,” he says, screwing his face up in frustration. He wants to walk, but his legs just aren't ready for it yet.
“It’s alright, I’ve got you baby,” she says, squeezing his hands in encouragement. “One step at a time.”
He wobbles with the first step, his balance not quite there yet. “It’s alright, mommy's here.” She still keeps hold of him for the second. It’s a little more certain, a little steadier. Then the third. By the four little step, there’s stability in his legs. “That’s it Jake. You’re doing it.”
Jake looks up and there’s a fierce look of determination on his face. She’s seen that look before, in his father. She releases his hands slowly, carefully as he takes his fifth step. He wobbles again, but remains upright and starts to waddle slowly, like a little duckling.
Nisha couldn’t have been any prouder. “Look at you huh? You’ll be roundin’ up the bad guys in no time.”
Her son gives her a gummy smile – though it’s not so gummy with his new teeth beginning to cut through. She thinks how hilarious it looks, and how his dad would have found it hilarious as well.
She thinks too of how Jack should have been there, and that Jake should have been waddling over to his dad. In her mind's eye, she sees Jack hoistering Jake into his shoulder, praising his new son for being so clever. Look at this Nish, he's not even a year old and he's already walking like a damn pro. You watch, he'll be running hyperion by next week. I can take a vacation at last says Jack in her head.
She wipes the back of her hand against her cheek.
Goddamn it Jack.
Helios burns bright in the sky two weeks before Jake’s fourth birthday.
Nisha sinks into the snow, watching with horror as she sees it break apart in the atmosphere. She feels something in herself break as well.
No.
No.
Don’t go.
Not yet.
She always took comfort in seeing it; seeing it watch over her and her son. She liked looking out the window each other morning to see it hovering there. She could pretend that everything was fine and that Jack was still alive in his castle in the sky. She could pretend he was right there, watching over them both.
Snow crunches behind her and she feels something tug at her jacket sleeve. It’s her little son, so wrapped up in layers that he can’t walk, only shuffle. “Mommy? Mommy why are you crying?” asks her son, his voice muffled by the multiple layers he wears.
Nisha wipes her thumb beneath her eye. “Nothing baby, nothing. It’s fine.”
He looks up to the sky, eyes large and round. He's looking for the space station as well. “Mommy, where is the big ‘H’?”
She bites her lip so hard she tastes blood. “It’s gone.”
“Why?”
She looks up again, and it hurts to see the spot where Helios should have been. Was the moon always so big? “I don’t know.”
They’re snuggled up on a sofa under a layer of blankets when Jake asks about his dad for the first time.
“Mommy?” he asks, his voice bright and clear over the snowstorm outside.
“Hmm?” She answers, feeling lethargic from hunting Bullymongs and other bandits all morning.
“Where’s my daddy?”
Nisha stirs almost immediately. She’s always been ready for the question. He was bound to ask it sooner or later. Jake is six years old, and becoming aware of the world around him. He’s curious about why they live where they do, why their supplies only come once a month in the form of Athena, why his only friend is Alex, why they can’t go near certain towns.
But God still it hurts to think of Jack. Six years and she thought it would be okay, that her chest wouldn’t go tight when his smile flashed into her memory. She still misses him dreadfully.
She keeps herself together as she combs her fingers through his hair. “Your daddy had to go away baby.”
Jake cranes his neck to look at her. The light from the fire turns his eyes from gold to eager orange. “Why?” he asks, curiously, innocently.
It’s impossible to make him understand but she has to try. “He had to fight the bad guys.”
“Oh.” Jake starts whistling air through the gap between his teeth. His baby teeth are dropping out, and he’s endlessly entertained by his own sounds. Nisha wishes the rest of them would hurry up and fall out.
“Will he come back?”
She feels as if a noose is tightening around her neck. She wishes to God she could say yes. “No baby.”
“Why?”
She leans down to rest her chin on his head. His hair is thick and fluffy like feathers; her shade but Jack’s texture and shape. “Because he can’t.”
“Because of the bad guys?”
“Yeah. Because of the bad guys.”
Jake is silent for another moment. Then he suddenly buries his face into his blankets. “I don’t like the bad guys,” he says with a muffled voice.
Nisha tightens her hold on her son, inhaling his comforting, kid scent; warm blankets and soap. “Neither do I baby.”
Goddamn it Jack.You stupid fuck.
“Jake, no.”
“Mom, please.”
“Not a chance kiddo. And don’t even think about giving me those big, sad eyes. It doesn’t work. You ain’t five anymore.”
“But you said I could.”
“When did I say that?”
“Before, when you said I couldn’t have a dog.”
“Hmm…I don’t remember sayin’ that.”
“Mom please, please. She’s all alone out here, just like me.”
“You have Alex.”
“But I don’t see Alex very often. Please please mom. Please can I keep her?”
“…Alright. But if that thing goes feral, you’re the one to put it down understood?”
“Thank you! Thank you!”
“What are you gonna call her?”
“NoMercy.”
“Huh. Think you can train her to catch bandits?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Good. She’s gotta earn her keep if she wants to stay.”
NoMercy earns her keep and much more.
The fights start when he’s nine, and she isn’t surprised. They’ve moved closer to a small township, chancing living closer to civilisation now that the Crimson Raiders have stopped hunting for them. Jake needs to know things that she can’t teach him, that she isn’t equipped to teach him. There’s something to be said for school. And if she had to go to school, then she sure as hell would make sure that her son went. At least for a while.
But even after nine years, Handsome Jack’s legacy still lingers. And the shadow hangs heavy over Jake. Each day he grows more and more into his father’s son. He has the colouring of a Kadam, but he is almost entirely Jack. And damn if it wasn’t exactly what she had hoped for. She’d wanted as little of herself in Jake as possible. She wanted to look at him, and remember his dad.
Now she thinks it would have been better if he had looked nothing at all like his father. Better for him, but not for her.
He comes home from school with a black eye and scratches that she recognises instantly as the tell-tale signs of scrappy fighting. She’s done enough of it herself.
“What happened?” She knows already as she goes for the first aid kit on top of the fridge.
“They called me names,” her son answers, wiping his nose on his sleeve of his jacket “Said things about dad.”
She expects it, but still she feels a surge of fury as she squats down in front of him with an antiseptic cloth. In her old glory days, she might have gone down and shot the place up. But she’s tempered somewhat now. And she needs to save her bullets.
“Did you win?”
He sniffs again. “Yeah. I knocked this other kid’s teeth out.”
She ruffles his fluffy hair with her free hand. “’Atta boy. Your dad would be proud.”
Jake face is hard like stone as she dabs the cuts with the cloth. “Mom. Is it true what they say about dad?”
“What they sayin’ about him?”
“That he was a murderer, and a bad man.”
She snorts. A bit rich coming from a township on Pandora. “Your dad was hero Jake. He wanted to change things on Pandora. A lot of people couldn’t understand that”
“They say he killed lots of people.”
“Ignore them, they’re just a bunch of punk ass kids who don’t know shit.”
Jake is quiet again as she dabs away the blood, his expression far off and distant. “They say I’m like him and I’m going to go crazy too.”
“Bullshit, you ain’t anything like your dad.” It’s a true enough statement. He’s nothing like Jack. His father was demanding, loud and often juvenile. Jake exercises caution and restraint and wields a dry wit even at nine years old. Polar opposites of each other. “You ain’t going to go crazy.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “How do you know?”
She marvels a moment. Here's a boy who looks so much like Handsome Jack, yet is so unlike him. She should have been more careful with her wishes.
Nisha straightens up, ruffling his hair again. “I’m your mother, that's why. I know everything. C’mon, grab your gun. Let’s shoot some Bullymongs. You’ll feel better after that.”
His face brightens slightly. He’s a natural sharp shooter, just like she is. “Can we bring NoMercy?”
“If she can keep up yeah.”
"Happy birthday Jake," she says on the morning of Jake's tenth birthday.
He smiles and tries to dodge as she leans down to press a kiss on the top of his head.
But she's faster, and plants a kiss into his messy hair. "Heh, gotta be faster than that to avoid me kiddo." She places the tiny parcel next to his bowl, poorly wrapped just as it always is. "Here you go."
"What is it?"
"A bullymong," she answers with a smile.
Jake is tugging the string apart and doesn't bother to reply. He's too excited by the prospect of presents. The paper is shed and off comes the lid of the small box.
She watches as Jake turns it upside down and a hexagon shaped watch drops out onto his hand, followed by a thin chain.
Her son puzzles as he tries to work out what exactly she's given him. It glows green on his palm, and they both know that it's broken. "It's a broken watch?"
"It was your dad's," she says quietly.
His brow smooths out into a look of surprise. "Dad's?"
"Yeah. He never used to be seen without it," she replies, and it's hard not to remember how she used to tweak it out of alignment on his chest just to watch him get cross.
Jake's fingers curl around the watch. "Where did you find it?"
She inhales as Jack's broken body flashes behind her eyes. "Your dad had me look after it for him. Thought you should be the one to have it now."
"Thanks mom. I'll look after it real good," he says. Already he's attaching it to his clothes, and the sight of it makes her eyes well up.
Jake glances up. "Mom you okay?"
She wipes her eyes with her fingers. "Yeah I'm fine. Just got some dust in my eye and no wonder, look at the state of this place Jake. We gotta make it decent before Athena and Springs get here. Now get a duster and get going."
"Awwww come on mom, it's my birthday."
"And you think that gets you out of chores? That's too cute."
Jake is twelve when he becomes obsessed with learning more about his father - the phantom that hangs over him.
"I wanna know about Dad," he tells her firmly one afternoon. His tone says he's not about to be deterred.
She cracks an Rakk egg over a pan; one handed because she's good at this domestic shit now. "Well, what do you wanna know?"
"Everything. What was he like? Like really. Everyone says somethin' different about him."
A familiar sense of longing blooms in her chest. She still misses him. It's almost pathetic. It is pathetic. "Your dad Jake... Well, from what I remember he was clever, so so clever. Always had some big plan or idea put his sleeve." She chops up slices of Bullymong meat for the omelette. "Clever mouth on him too, wanted to punch him a few times. But damn if he didn't make me laugh."
Jake gives a rare giggle as he leans forward on the table."What else?" he asks eagerly. It strikes her that perhaps this is the only time in which anyone has spoken positively about Handsome Jack.
She thinks back to those five year of her life, one of the few times in which she was genuinely happy. "He was determined, and charismatic. Thought himself a bit of a charmer," she says. "And tried to act like a cool guy, kinda cute really." She remembers him on Helios, on the moon, when he worked so hard for her attention.
"Mom, what happened to him, The other kids..." There's shadows in his eyes as he speaks. "They said the Vault Hunter killed him because he went crazy and tried to destroy Pandora."
"Jake... When your dad died, he was in a bad place. He did some stuff he shouldn't have had." Yeah like take on the Vault hunters without me.
"Why? What happened to him?"
She remembers Angel's sad eyes, guarded and wary of strangers. Not too unlike Jake. "They stole something very important to him, and it tipped him over the edge. You gotta understand Jake the vault hunters betrayed him, almost killed us both. And then one of them scarred his face for life. Then they took something from him. And that was the beginning of the end I guess."
Her son is like a skag with a bone. "What did they take?"
Nisha swallows as she realises she's said too much. She's not sure if Jake is ready to hear about his sister's murder. She's not ready to remember how off the rails it made Jack.
"That doesn't really matter anymore."
"Mom, you just he lost something important. What did he lose?"
She turns around and folds her arms over her chest, playing stern mommy as best as she can. "Look, what is important is that he wasn't trying to destroy Pandora. He wanted to make it better for everyone. If he had, I could've had you in a nice, safe hospital instead of Springs's house. Heck, we'd be living somewhere nice instead of the middle of nowhere."
His brow wrinkles, and he suddenly looks even more like his father. "Why would everyone hate him for that?"
"I dunno Jake, that's psycho bandits for you. They just preferred Pandora lawless I suppose," she answers, and tries not to add that she does as well. "Now enough questions for now. Go and wash up."
"Mom-"
"No buts. Just do it." She gives him a look, and it turns out to be just as effective on her son as it was on his father.
And just like his father, he complies, and leaves the table to scrub his hands under cold water. It's just as well. She isn't sure she could take any more questions about Jack.
By sixteen Jake is taller than her – taller than any sixteen year old should be. He sprouts in every direction, packing on muscle weight as much as he packs on height. He acts older; sixteen going on forty. Nisha teases him relentlessly about being the adult of the household.
She wonders what Jack would say if he could see his son now. He’d definitely get affronted that Jake is taller than he is, and probably stronger too. But at least he’d be pleased that Jake has inherited most of his looks, especially in the chin and nose. He is his father's son, his spitting image.
And it kills her.
She’s chopping up wood when she hears her son’s Technical pull up. NoMercy is howling with delight on the porch. She knows the sound of Jake’s engine now.
Nisha hears her son from behind the house. “Hey! I’m home! And look what I found. Some asshole bandit sayin’ he’s Handsome Jack again," he calls as he kills the engine.
The blade of an axe slams into the log a little harder than is necessary and the shards of woond splinters off in every direction. Psychos weren’t right in the head. She knows that. But still she’s furious to hear that someone is throwing around Jack’s name. She wipes her gloves against the check pattern of her shirt with a soft growl.
“Don’t bring them back here then, you know they always put me in a bad mood,” she calls back as she makes her way to the front of the house. She'll string this one up by the trees just for saying Jack's name
Her son’s vehicle is parked in the makeshift driveway. Jake springs out the drivers seat, rifle slinging on his back as he hauls open the side door.
But the person in the passengers side isn’t a psycho bandit at all.
It’s Handsome Jack.
Her handsome hero, alive and well and scowling like the moody bastard she knows him to be.
Her heart halts under her breast. She knows it’s him. She doesn’t even have to ask. She's committed his face to memory. She's seen it enough in her dreams, and sometimes in her nightmares. Always there, but always just out of reach.
But it can’t be true though. Because Jack is dead, and has been for over sixteen years. He went off and died and she had to raise his son. Alone.
But there he is, sounding as obnoxious and difficult as ever. He hasn't aged a day, and she knows that shouldn't be possible. But the impossible is happening a lot lately. God, seeing him next to Jake causes her throat to close up with an unspoken emotion. They look so much like each other, a dark mirror. It's almost frightening.
"Jack."
He looks up and she sees a ripple of recognition in his face. He knows who she is.
"Nisha." His voice is just how she remembers it.
Her life starts again.