Three days since Tricia's death. Three days of numbness. Three days of inexpressable guilt and searing pain that always surfaced whenever Nicky Nichols had a single second in which her mind wasn't occupied with simply getting through the day.

She felt like it was her fault. She felt like she'd pushed Tricia away when she needed her the most. Instead of giving her support, she told her to turn herself in. Instead of being the family member she needed when she was clean, she iced her out.

Now Tricia was dead. She couldn't undo a single word she'd said wrong, or what she should've said but didn't. She of all people should have known just how much she'd needed help and empathy. Addiction didn't make you weak. It made you vulnerable.

They'd had an informal memorial for her, complete with junk food and toilet hooch. Inmates came and went and spoke their piece. Nicky was afraid to speak for fear of breaking down in front of everyone. When Vause commented on her lack of words, Lorna stood up for her, and Nicky was silently grateful for it. She was appreciative of the memorial but she was even gladder when it was over. Nicky didn't do well handling strong emotions of any kind, especially not around other people.

That was part of the reason why she often spent her free time alone in the chapel listening to music, trying to tune out her own tumultuous thoughts. Today was no exception, but it was also different. It was different because she couldn't get away from her thoughts, no matter how loud the music was, which was why her radio lay, unused, on the altar. Nicky sat on the floor with her back against the wall, staring numbly at the ceiling. She almost expected Tricia to come strolling in, tool in hand to fix that lightbulb that blew yesterday. Nicky's breath came faster and faster and her right fist clenched and her body began to shake. Her emotions sat just below the surface like they were spring-loaded and ready to fly out if she let them. Even though she was alone she tried to stuff them down. She felt like she was being repeatedly punched in the gut.

She should fucking be alive today. Fuck this.

Nicky cursed inwardly as she heard the chapel door open. She looked up and frowned wonderingly as she watched Lorna Morello peer timidly around the room. She walked down the aisle towards the front, glancing in each row as she passed.

"Hey Nichols, you in here?" she called in a loud whisper.

Fuck.

"What do you want?" Nicky called, her tone more of a statement than a question.

"I was just... I wanted to see where you were, that's all." The hesitation in Lorna's voice made it obvious that there was more to her visit than just seeing where Nicky was.

"Well, I'm here, so you can go now, alright?" Lorna did not plan on being repelled so easily. She sat down next to Nicky, not too close, but close enough to reach out and touch the side of her leg gently. Her hand was warm and comforting to Nicky. Her voice was soft when she spoke.

"You know you're not alone. Tricia was my family too. I miss her like crazy." Tears sprang to Lorna's eyes and she gave a half-laugh half-sob. Nicky nodded and put her hand over Lorna's hand, closing her fingers around it gently.

"Yeah." was all Nicky could muster up the courage to say. Her spring-loaded emotions were ready to burst out and she didn't want Lorna to see it. She had always played it cool. When she was around Lorna she always tried to be tough, know-it-all, witty. Strong and silent. Even right after Tricia died, the only person whom she allowed to see her tears was Red. But very slowly, even as the silent seconds stretched into a few silent moments, puncuated only by Lorna's occasional sniffs, Nicky began to let her guard down. She squeezed her hand tighter, and tighter, and without realizing it came close to breaking it. Lorna's pained squeak brought Nicky back to reality. She released her hand quickly, and even as she let go of it her emotions started to let go too.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

I'm sorry, Tricia.

Nicky Nichols began to cry, and she couldn't stop herself. Not any more. Lorna looked a little surprised at first but then quickly began rubbing her back, the pain in her hand forgotten.

"It's okay, Nichols. It's okay."

"No it isn't!" Nicky yelled, sliding away from Lorna's touch, her expression almost livid as the pent-up emotions spilled out.

"She was too fucking young to die." Nicky's mascara ran as the tears flowed freely down her face, rage, regret and grief all expressed in her eyes. Lorna was also crying now, her eyes getting as red as her lipstick.

"I know, I know. She was just a kid. Those fucking drugs. Maybe if she'd..."

"Maybe if she'd what? Been stronger? Asked for help sooner? Just "not used"?" Nicky stood up, hands on hips, and stared down accusingly at Lorna.

"Fuck you, Morello. You've never... you have no idea what it's like." Lorna looked hurt.

"What, because I ain't a junkie I can't be as sad as you? Fuck you, Nichols." Lorna got up and began to shakily hurry away but Nicky swore under her breath and begged her to stay.

"Lorna, I didn't mean... fuck. I'm sorry. Sorry for this whole fucking mess. If I hadn't... It should have been me."

She was just a kid. A fucking kid. I killed her.

Nicky blew a frustrated sigh and her head sank to her chest. Tears dripped down onto the floor from her tightly closed eyes and her whole body shook with every sob. Lorna ran over to her and helped her to the floor, where she just held Nicky tightly as she wept into her chest.

"You can't blame yourself, Nichols," Lorna whispered, rubbing her back gently.

"I think she's in a better place. I mean... she's gotta be." Nicky nodded.

She was too fucking good for this place. Rest in peace, kid.

Several minutes later, Nicky began to compose herself. Her breathing slowed, the tears stopped, and Lorna gently released her from her comforting embrace. She scrubbed her eyes and cheeks with her khaki sleeves, drying off the last of her tears. She cleared her throat then stood up, fixing anxious eyes on Lorna.

"Could you... not tell anybody about this?"

"Not a soul, I promise."

"Good."

The two inmates stood in silence for a moment, then went their separate ways, Lorna back to her cube to re-apply mascara, and Nicky to the bathroom to erase the evidence of her breakdown. But before they parted, as Lorna was heading back up the aisle, Nicky called after her.

"Hey..." She stopped and turned around attentively. Nicky looked at the floor and wet her lips before her parting words.

"Thanks, kid." Lorna smiled, nodded, then continued on her way.