Disclaimer: I don't own the show or characters. All I own is the writing and story.
Author's Note: This is a story that is kind of a rewrite/revision of a previous story (Misfortune) of mine that I had uploaded on my other account. Many changes have been made...the only thing, really, that's the same is that Lorna's been in a house-fire and lost all of her memory. This first chapter is really only a prologue and for readers to get a taste of what this story has to offer. The next one may not be posted for a while as I'm going to try to write the rest of story at once. So, chapter two will contain the majority of the story - if not all. If that makes sense. Anyway, please feel free to leave reviews. I cherish those so very much I really could use the feedback on this. Thanks. Enjoy.
The Realm of Adversity
A freezing, snowy, winter morning it turned out to be when Nicky Nichols took her morning jog through the city street. It was a habit she picked up from her adoptive mother many years ago—a technique to keep her away from drugs. Something she could easily lose her focus in, having to keep herself from breathing heavy and making sure to sip the water she carried with her every so often. A routine she quickly came to love. And, though, it wasn't the same as the high heroin gave her, running instilled her with a different type of high. A high that lured her to keep going. To keep trekking along.
The cold breeze of air hit her nose throughout her run. Made it a chore to keep her breathing steady. She never did like the winter season, such a sensation brought to her attention. By the time she arrived at her mother's Russian bakery, she hadn't the energy to do anything but to plop herself in a chair at one of the several tables that made up its small dining area. Her heart pumped ferociously in her chest. A long-lasting side effect from her years and years of abusing heroin, she knew.
"Nicky!" Red smiled to see her beloved daughter stop by every morning; it was always a time she treasured—yearned for since it was obvious her boys didn't have the time for her anymore. She quickly readied a mug of hot coffee for her before making her way from behind the counter and over towards the occupied table. However, sitting right beside her, she easily noticed something wasn't right. Her color was off. Off enough to cause concern.
"You don't look good, Nicky. Are you coming down with an illness?" Maternal instincts kicked in full-gear; she set aside the coffee and placed her hand—palm-side up—over Nicky's forehead.
The redhead shook her head, an eyebrow arching ponderously up at her mother. "I'm fine, ma. I just came from my jog. It's damn freezing out there," she assured her, a smile on her face. Though, the shape her body seemed to be in tested that theory. She never felt so winded before—so breathless and tired that the floor looked like the most comfortable sleeping place.
Her heart warmed at the mention of Nicky's jog—a hobby she helped to instill her with back when she was working to get her to give up heroin. Yet, the condition she appeared to be in now worried Red immensely. She cupped her hands lovingly around the young woman's face, peering her intently in the eyes. "It's the coldest day of the year and you think that's a good time for you to be running out there? You can be so clueless sometimes, my darling. Do you feel okay?"
Nicky didn't have the chance to respond when she felt a strong dose of feebleness begin to plague through her already fatigued body. Heart beat rapidly inside her—fast enough that it made trying to breathe a rather difficult task. Hands and legs began to tingle, a scary sensation—something she couldn't comprehend. Was she dying? The terrifying question ran through her racing mind.
Terror and concern tore through the Russian woman's body to see her daughter's head collapse against the table. She threw her arms tight around the short woman, yanking her up into her strong arms. "Nicky, wake up," her voice shook, tears ready to spill from her eyes at any given moment. She threw the unconscious woman over her shoulder and flung her way to the door but ended up colliding right into Gloria Mendoza—her partner of two years now.
"Whoa, what's going on here?" The short Hispanic woman inquired, brown eyes gazing ahead at Red with seeping worry. "What's wrong with Nicky?"
Tears streaming along her cheeks, Red cradled the redhead tight in her arms—wishing so desperately that would be enough to heal her of whatever this was. She looked up at Gloria, eyes filled with a fear she never felt before. "I don't know what's wrong. She just passed out on the table—I gotta get her to a hospital is all I know."
"We'll take my car—it's right out front," she responded quickly, opening the door for them to frisk back out of. Gloria felt her heart rip inside of her at all that must be tearing through her girlfriend's mind—how difficult it had to be to see her daughter in this bad a condition. The hardest thing in the world, she knew, was to see one's own child in any sort of pain. Once they were settled in her car—Red sitting in the passenger's side with Nicky's cataleptic body cradled against her—she reached a hand over to place comfortingly onto her shoulder.
"She'll be okay—Nicky's a tough young woman just like her mama."
The moment Nicky opened her eyes, she was met with two vastly concerned faces hovering beside her. Scrunching her face with puzzle, she let her big orbs search the room intently—rapidly realizing that she was lying in a hospital room, hooked to all sorts of inconvenient machines and monitors. A loud grumble escaped from her throat. Maybe she should have followed her instincts and not gone on that jog this morning.
"Oh, Nicky," Red tearfully exclaimed, immediately jumping up from her chair to bombard her daughter in a tight embrace. Waiting hours on end for her child to come through such a major operation—oh was it the most agonizing thing she'd ever endured. How she hoped and prayed for that rambunctious redhead to pull through, she thought. "I was so worried about you. How do you feel, honey? Do you need anything?"
Shaking her head, the redhead pulled slightly away from her mother to stare ponderously into her eyes. The last thing she remembered was stopping by the bakery for a coffee. What the hell happened for her to end up here in the hospital? "I feel pretty damn confused—why the fuck am I in the hospital? And why does it feel like an elephant or two are sitting on my chest?"
Combing a hand lovingly through her mess of thick curls, the Russian mother sighed and peered compassionately down at her. "You passed out at the shop, Nicky. So, Gloria and I rushed you here—you ended up needing major heart surgery. All that overuse of heroin and shit…it really ruined your heart, my darling." The words rushed out of her in between cries of relief—relief that her beloved daughter made it through alive. Something, decades ago, her husband passed away from.
"Heart surgery? What the hell? How can a simple thing like passing out lead to that?" Nicky questioned with arched eyebrows. Of course, she thought, that made sense as to why her chest hurt so awfully—but what she couldn't wrap her head around was the fact that there was ever anything wrong in the first place. That something was so inherently going on with her heart, it caused her to need a life-saving operation. Baffling, she deemed it. The thought, on its own, made her sick with herself for ever messing with drugs. Sick with herself for being the culprit of this issue.
"I know it's hard to digest—I was shocked myself to hear that you were being rushed into surgery—but they said if we wouldn't have brought you here when we did that you might not have made it much longer," Red nearly choked on her words. To think of just how close she was to losing Nicky—the one and only daughter she could ever dream of having—stung like hell. Something she knew she couldn't handle well.
The raw emotion that so clearly seeped its way from her mother's voice pained Nicky to no end. Her arms wrapped tightly around her neck; she buried her face in its crook and felt a sigh escape her. "Hey, at least I'm fine now. I'm sorry, ma, for the scare—guess this is what I get for being a drug addict," she chuckled—a broken and distressed chuckle. That was the only way she knew how to deal with her failures. Was to laugh it off, pretend it wasn't that bad.
Shaking her head tearfully, Red carefully pulled the young woman into her arms and cradled her close. She let her hands brush soothingly through her matted red curls. "Don't be, Nicky—I'm just so glad you're okay. Now, don't talk like that—I mean yes, you made bad choices by using heroin but that doesn't mean you deserve this, sweetheart. You don't. No one does," her Russian accent softly murmured into her daughter's ear.
She continued to stroke her hair and felt her heart swell at the sight of Nicky's eyes slowly becoming heavy. "Let yourself rest, Nicky. You've had quite the busy day—and the medicine, I'm sure, is draining all of your energy. Just close your eyes and sleep, my darling." The words came quietly from her mouth before she pressed a motherly kiss atop her head.
The next time Nicky awoke, she found herself lying alone in the hospital bed—rather left without Red and Gloria. Instead, she came face-to-face with a young woman she'd never seen before in her life. Eyebrows curved with piquing interest; she searched the woman's face meticulously. Taking careful note of the faint scars that scattered around her porcelain-toned face, brown eyes that seemed no older than a child's, and the medium-length brown hair that sat just below her petite shoulders.
"Is there a particular reason you've decided to hover over top of me? I don't believe we know each other," she inquired, sitting herself up and grabbing a pillow from behind her head to hold against her aching chest.
Shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, the brunette limped away from her and carefully took a seat in one of the chairs. For the past month that she'd been in the hospital, she spent the entire time in this room without a roommate. Naturally, when she came back from her physical therapy, she grew somewhat excited to see another patient taking up residency with her. She needed the company.
"Sorry," was her heavily accented response.
That voice was music to Nicky's ears. She pulled the blanket closer to herself and placed a small smile on her face. "Didn't even realize I had a roommate—don't think ya were here earlier. What's your name?"
Her name? A simple question that anyone could easily answer, she knew. A simple question she should be able to answer without even thinking. But that was simply impossible after being caught in a housefire—the news she'd been told by her doctor the morning she first woke up here. A housefire that wiped her entire memory clean. A housefire that left her scarred and deformed.
"I was at my physical therapy," she mumbled, eyes focusing down on her hands. Her hands that barely resembled what normal human hands were supposed to look like, she thought. "I've been in this room for a month and ain't never got no roommates before. Kinda nice that they finally gave me one…been real lonely here. What're ya in here for?"
Nicky felt her heart ache—metaphorically as well as literally, she thought with an inward chuckle—to hear the young woman's answer. Her big brown eyes looked softly over at her. She held the pillow tighter to her chest to ease the rising pain. "Damn…a whole month? Ya must be pretty sick, yeah kid? I'm sorry. I'm just here recovering from an unexpected surgery."
Sick—oh, yes, she's sick all right…sickly looking, she thought wincingly. Her arms and legs were covered in all sorts of burns in different stages of healing. The skin chafed and peeling all over from the burns slowly killing it. "No, I'm not sick. Just burnt to a crisp is all," the brunette laughed brokenly, shaking her head. She gathered herself and peered back towards her new roommate. "Yes, I heard the nurses talking about it when they came in to check your vitals. Heart surgery? Aren't ya a little young for that kinda trouble?"
That would explain the scars on her face, Nicky sadly thought. She hugged her pillow closer to ease the heavy sensation lurking inside her chest. She knew that this young woman's answer was only worsening the tightness; it ate her up to think of anyone's having to endure the sensation of getting burnt in a fire. Made her cringe to ponder over.
"What happened? And ya gonna tell me your name any time soon, kid?"
"Housefire…that's what the doctor told me," the dark-haired woman muttered, messing about with her hands out of anxiousness. That simple question again. Oh, how it tore mercilessly at her to not be able to answer it. She sighed defeatedly and forced herself to stand back up so she could slowly hobble her way to her bed where she could peak at her chart—knowing the name would be on it somewhere.
Nicky watched with concerned eyes and held up her hand. "Ya better just sit down, kid. It looks like you're in a lotta pain when ya walk. Do you need something?"
"I was going to look at my chart—it has my name on it. I don't remember it. My doctor said I have memory loss from the fire so I don't remember shit."
Compassion consumed the redhead even further at that point. She waved her hand in the air—a gesture telling the other to come sit beside her. "Come sit with me, kid. I could use the company—lonely place in here without my ma. Ya look like having a friend would do ya some good," Nicky warmly suggested, moving over so there was room for another person to occupy space.
The younger woman gave a small nod in agreement. She could certainly use a friend. Being in here for an entire month without any visitors or phone calls, she felt so isolated from the outside world. Desolate without anyone searching for her. She shook the melancholy thoughts from her mind and used the arms of the chair to push herself up. It hurt to walk with the many burns that sat upon each of her legs, but she wasn't about to let that stop her from limping her way to sit on the bed with her new roommate. The fire already cost her her memory—she hadn't been about it to let it take away her mobility as well.
"So, ya were in a housefire and it made ya lose all your memory?" Nicky softly asked once the brunette was situated beside her. She turned her face to peer at hers—taking in every inch of the pale flesh that made it up. The burn scars, the light dimples at the corners of her mouth—an angel face, she deemed it. So pure and childlike.
"Seems like it," she murmured, shifting to the far right as much as she could—not wanting to accidently cause pain to Nicky. Her dark brown eyes gazed up at her with a growing interest. "What's your name? Ya don't have memory loss too, right?"
Chuckling lightly, Nicky shook her head and smiled sadly. "I remember as clear as day," she started while folding and unfolding the corner of her blanket. "I'm Nicky. What do ya want me to call ya? At least until a nurse comes in to tell us who ya are. I don't want ya hurting yourself by limping all the way across the room just for that."
"Nicky?" She quirked an eyebrow up at the redhead beside her. A friendly smile formed on her face. "Ya look like a Nicky—real pretty name."
She paused a minute to ponder over the question. "I don't know. I've been watching these soap operas to keep me busy in here and there's this one girl who was in a fire…think her name was Laurel or somethin' like at. Ya can call me that for now."
A soft laugh tumbled through Nicky's larynx; she couldn't refrain herself from instinctively reaching over to place her hand over top of the brunette's. Something she hoped didn't scare or startle her. Her smile grew when it seemed the other didn't mind at all. "Thanks, kid. My mother didn't plan on having me so she was not very creative when she gave me a name," another laugh came through; she shook her head—mother, that woman hadn't the first idea how to be one.
She quickly wiped the thought away and gave a light-hearted smirk at the request. "Soap operas, huh? I always found those overly predictable but…to each their own. Laurel? It doesn't really go with your face but if that's what ya wanna be called, sure thing."
Scrunching her nose curiously, the smaller woman turned to glance at her with inquisitive eyes. Longing to know what she would deem she looked like. "What name do I look like then?"
"Hmm," Nicky held her hand over her chin while staring the other intently over. Searching her—what she deemed—angelic face and hair thoroughly. "You're obviously Italian so ya must have some Italian name, yeah? I'd say maybe you're a Marie or a Lorna. Either of those sound familiar at all?"
"No, not really. I guess I should pay attention when the nurses talk to me. Though, they don't really use my name anyway…just refer to me as that "burn victim"." She made air-quote gestures along with the unwanted nickname, eyes gazing glassily ahead at the white wall. It made her feel like maybe that's all she truly was. A damn burn victim. With no family and no name.
Seeing how obviously those two words hurt her roommate brought a dreary sensation over Nicky. Compassion quickly consumed her as she cautiously held open her arms for the young girl. "Looks like ya could use a hug, kid. Come here," she gently suggested, peering softly down at her.
Without an ounce of hesitation, she timidly moved herself into the friendly outstretched arms and threw her own arms around Nicky's back. The physical contact—something she hadn't had the entire time she'd been there—was something she didn't know she needed until that very moment. It felt good to have someone's arms encircled around her petite frame. To know that someone cared just a little bit about her well-being…even if they were strangers.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For what? For hugging ya?" Nicky arched an eyebrow yet wrapped her arms tighter around her body. "Don't be silly, kid. You don't needa thank me for that. What're friends for?"
Lifting her head, the brunette tilted it slightly as she looked wondrously up into her big brown orbs. "Friends? But we just met like an hour ago. I'm thanking you because you're the first person I've had a conversation with since I woke in this place. And for the hug—ya give such nice hugs."
"Who the hell cares if we just met? We can be friends, kid. Especially since we're both going to be in this room together a while. You really look like ya need a good friend."
The last sentence broke Nicky's heart a sliver. To be stuck in this place for as long as her roommate and have no one come by to converse with, it made her beyond grateful for having Red and Gloria along with her two best friends. No wonder this young girl was so quick to warm up to her—she craved the companionship of another human being. "The nurses don't talk to you? Haven't called the police to help ya find your family or anything? Weren't they in the fire with ya? Jesus. I'm so sorry, kid. I'll do whatever I can to help ya."