1. A not so fresh start.

Stifling. Suffocating. Smothering

Three words that perfectly encapsulated Piper's subway journey from hell.

Never again.

An understandable sentiment, considering she had been pinned against the underarm of a man with questionable hygiene practices; for the past half hour.

After several failed attempts at holding her breath in the hope of blocking the malodorous whiffs emitting from said underarm; the automated voice announced their arrival at her desired stop. Gasping like a fish fresh out of water, Piper gratefully stepped off the carriage and hurriedly joined the crowds of commuters all vying their way to the exits. Throngs of thirty-something year old professionals hurried up the stairs, en masse.

It was a mad rush of jostling bodies, shoving elbows and flying satchels.

Piper glanced at her watch; it was 07:43. She swore under her breath, at this rate she was going to be unfashionably late. She increased her pace and soon enough exited the subway; blissfully reaching open air.

She took a moment to gather her herself together. Violated, she felt like she had just escaped a war zone. She still wasn't used to the fast-paced life of New York. It was a wholly different world compared to the sheltered suburbia she hailed from.

It was a typical dreary Monday morning in downtown New York. The air crisp. The sun bright. The frigidness numbed her even through the layers of her freshly ironed pant suit and blouse. The wind was blowing harshly making her eyes water. She sought warmth from the coffee she was carrying and gulped it down. It did little to warm her up, it had already grown lukewarm not to mention it tasted downright disgusting.

Reverting her attention to her imminent lateness. She hurried her pace even further, which proved to be quite a feat, as she was cursed with wearing six inch heels.

Just her luck.

She could not be late. Not on her first day. Although the air was cold to the point it almost hurt to inhale, perspiration covered her forehead and she could already feel cold sweat dripping down her back.

Oh god! The very last thing she needed now, was to be an out-of-breath, sweating pig in front of the hospital personnel. First impressions matter. You had to maintain a certain front when in contact with people. At least that's what her mother always told her.

She slowed down her pace in the hope of cooling down, rounded a corner and ahead loomed the building that she would be spending for much of the forthcoming months at. The imposing façade of Litchfield General Hospital extended well above the rest of the New York buildings that stood meekly beside it. The old red brickwork gave it an air of superiority and prestige. Piper knew that this was one of the best teaching hospitals in the state of New York, a hospital known for its cutting edge research and quality patient care. She hesitantly stepped inside.

This is it.

She put her chin up, straightened her shoulders and strode towards the reception desk.

"Hello, good morning." She voiced.

The woman behind the plexi-glass looked up. Her face expressing a why-the-hell-did-you-distract-me-face.

Piper stuttered, "I am here to see Mr. Michael…" She had forgotten the name, she quickly fumbled in her handbag for her phone, hastily scrolling through her reminder notes, spotted the name and looked back up, "Michael Fitzgerald?"

"You mean Dr Fitzgerald?" The woman acidly said, eyeing Piper above her glasses.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Yes."

"His office is on the fifth floor, take the lift, turn left, you'll see a long corridor and then turn right." The woman stated curtly.

Someone fell from the wrong side of her bed today.

"Thank you."

But the woman was already beckoning for the next person behind her in the queue. Piper arrived at the elevator and was about to press the button when she spotted an out of order sign. She sighed dejectedly. This day was going ever so great. Resigned she took the stairs. She looked at her watch, 07:54. Her heart skipped a beat.

Shit, shit, shit. She practically sprinted up the stairs, by the fifth floor she was so out of breath that she had to take a minute to get her breathing in order. She made a mental note to stop spending her evenings in front of the couch watching Dexter whilst munching through a tub of ice-cream but instead justify the $50 a month she spent on a gym membership she hardly ever used.

She hurried along the corridor, and abruptly stopped when she saw a gold-plated plaque on an oak door in front of her with the doctor's name printed on it. She exhaled and knocked.

A few seconds passed, "Come in!" a gruff voice bellowed.

Piper opened the door and entered, noticing all at once the grey-haired main sat behind an enormous oak desk, situated in an equally vast room which was sparsely decorated with exotic plants and landscape paintings. She waited for his invitation.

"Take a seat." The man gestured to the chairs in front.

"Thank you, sir."

She placed her bag on the floor beside her.

"So, you're our first year resident?" He shuffled some papers on his desk, read a few and looked up, "Piper Chapman?"

"Yes, sir." Piper nodded.

He sat back in his chair, his smile warm.

"Well, it's a pleasure to have you here at this great establishment." He said all the while gesturing with his hands. "Although, you have spoken with my colleagues regarding your employment conditions, just out my own curiosity, tell me a bit about yourself."

Piper nodded politely. She told him how she had graduated from Smith College back in Connecticut and had started her medical programme at a hospital there, but chose to transfer to NYC as there were better opportunities here with regards to career climbing. She was interested in cardiology and emergency medicine and hoped to pursue a career in those fields. She talked about how she lived with her friend Polly in an apartment in downtown NY.

Dr Fitzgerald had been silently listening, nodding at appropriate times.

"So that's me." Piper nervously finished.

"Excellent!" he said in his thunderous voice. He produced a stack of paper held together by paperclips. "You have been emailed your employment contracts, occupational health, salary information and administrative issues. But here's a rota for the next few months, relevant contacts, teaching sessions etc." He handed her the stack. "Oh and that reminds me your supervisor is going to be…" he stopped and pushed his glasses down and read from a printed Excel document. "Ah!"

Piper looked at the man, his face carried an expression of piqued interest whilst silently nodding his head. He looked at Piper with a new found awareness.

"Dr Vause. Is your attending doctor." He paused. "I suggest you go to Dr Vause, so that the attending can show you the ropes during your first few weeks."

Fitzgerald noticed the puzzled look on Piper's face. Why did he have that reaction to seeing that particular doctor's name? Piper uncomfortably shifted in her chair when she noticed that the man was still staring at her - an expectant expression marring his weathered face.

"Where can I find him?"

"Who?"

She looked at him confused. Was this a trick question of sorts?

"My attending…"

"Oh!" he belly laughed. "Alex is a she."

Piper let out an awkward laugh. Oh fuck. A woman boss. Great. From Piper's very limited experience, female bosses only came in a one-size-fits all personality. The bull-dog types who boasted they had more college degrees than a PhD professor and looked down on the likes of her with their upturned noses - as if the smell of shit constantly assaulted their noses, no matter where they went.

God forbid, anyone with less abbreviations after their names were to cross their paths - particularly those of the fairer sex - no uh, by default you'd be the shit on the bottom of their razor-sharp stilettos.

During a particularly silent moment, Piper could still hear her previous attending; Dr Fiona Sharples' clacking heels echoing along the hospital corridors, and like a Pavlovian response, her heart rate would begin thumping against her rib-cage, and her hands would start to sweat like a runner in the heat. Fucking embarrassing it was. Even worse, when her reaction had become the norm rather than the exception.

And anyway who fucking wore stilettos to work, much less to a hospital?

Power-hungry bitches with a massive chip on their shoulders, that's who. Mostly the chip was in the form of a stethoscope with their stupid prissy names engraved upon it. Unashamedly, there had been many an occasion where Piper had bitterly wished, Sharples would break those heels and cartwheel across a crowd-filled hall and squarely land at Piper's feet. She wouldn't rule out, wanting to stamp on her, and rearrange that football-helmet shaped haircut the woman had always sported.

Anyway, where was she?

Oh yes. The very frightening prospect of being paired with another, self-absorbed supervisor.

Piper glanced back up, catching the latter part of Fitzgerald's monologue. Thankfully, he remained oblivious to her daydreaming.

"...Alex Vause is one of our best young doctors. I assure you...that you have been placed in great hands." He paused and spoke in a low voice, almost conspiratorial. "Word of warning. She can be a little intense, but don't take it personally."

Don't take it personally. A ubiquitous phrase, that had become synonymous with grin and bear any bullshit thrown your way, regardless of whether you're right or wrong. In this particular context, it was code for don't challenge an already, volatile supervisor with a delicate-as-a-flower ego.

Uh oh. Please not again. Sweet Lord, surely lightning did not strike twice in the same damn spot? Piper would be more than happy to have an escaped convict as her senior rather than a probably distantly related, cousin of Sharples, should this Alex be of a similarly asshole-ish character. Good god, Piper was most definitely over-thinking this whole situation. But a situation nonetheless, one that had two distinct possibilities: a harsh reality or over-imaginative hypothetical ramblings.

He smiled and winked at Piper. If the wink was supposed to make Piper feel more at ease, it had the complete opposite effect. A silence came over the room. After what felt like forever, she felt she had to say something. She tentatively broke the thick atmosphere.

"Where can I find her?" She asked, emphasising the word 'her'.

Again he glanced at the Excel document, "She's in… surgery. I believe they have just commenced. Just scrub up and introduce yourself to her. You might as well get stuck in immediately."

Piper was surprised, she didn't think that she would start working straight away. She suddenly realised she had left her white coat back at her apartment. She knew she had forgotten something!

"Right, I think that's it!" Fitzgerald declared raucously.

Before Piper could enquire about the whole white coat issue; the director rose to his feet, and prepared to shake her hand. Realising the meeting had effectively come to an end, she stood up and shook his hand. His firm hold a contrast to her hesitant, barely there grasp.

"Welcome to Litchfield General Hospital!"

The operating room was stuffy. That was the first thing Piper had noticed. And the smell. Her senses were assaulted with the unsavoury combination of surgical disinfectant laced with the odour of fresh innards. She could feel the coffee she had drunk earlier threatening to make a comeback. Serves her right for skipping breakfast. The second thing she noted was the music playing in the background. Who actually listened to music whilst doing surgery?

She had just stepped out of the scrubbing up room and was dressed all out in surgical attire. She was careful not to touch anything. She knew from medical school and her few stints in surgery that if she touched, bumped or rubbed against anything, including her own face – it would mean to start the whole scrubbing up process again. The task would be arduous not to mention embarrassing. And that was something she could not afford to happen on her first hour. Let alone, first day.

There were about five people all dressed in standard OR garb stood around an unconscious patient covered in green surgical drapes, who was in the process of having their breastbone cracked in half.

Piper quickly looked away and instead carefully and slowly walked up to one of the surgeons stood around the operating table taking care not to touch anything.

"Excuse me."

AN: Hi everyone, this is my first ever fic, so go easy on me.

I would appreciate the reviews. Should I continue!? :) ( I have a further chapter already written out )