Jessica Wedge.

It's not like Alex considers that a girl a nemesis or anything (it's just put-downs outside of school, not the end of the fucking world) but the day sure is longer every time Jessica Wedge decides to focus her laser-gaze in Alex's direction.

At 9 a.m., it's all about Alex's shoes; by the time recess rolls around, Jessica and her clone collective have moved on to Alex's choice of t-shirt, the color of her hair and the glasses that rest upon her face.

By the time her mother's car rattles up to the curb at the end of those agonizing eight hours, Alex's whole life has been judged by a jury of her stuck-up peers – and she has been found overwhelming guilty… guilty of being poor, guilty of being fatherless, guilty of being unlike all the other snobby girls who already bat their eyelashes at stupid boys…

…and sometimes Alex lies awake at night, radio playing softly to cover up the silence of her mother working another late shift, and she wishes that this life were not her own – no matter how cool she might be one day, no matter how boring all those girls might be someday…

…sometimes Alex just wants to fit in with the crowd instead of always being a circle in a square world.

/

Piper Chapman.

It's just a name on a resume and a pretty face (one more silly little rich girl looking for a 'good time' and Alex knows all about those girls) but whatever it was that Alex was expecting when she introduced herself, all snark and bite as the liquor flowed… well, it turned into something else all-together.

And maybe it was after the sixth night they spent in Alex's bed – sweaty and tired and satisfied – and Piper was nothing more than soft curves barely covered by the sheets… maybe that's the moment when Alex realized that Piper Chapman was more than a glorious fuck, more than a smart mouth that can spit out pop culture tidbits right alongside quotes from Austen or Jung or Faulkner…

…or maybe it is the fact that she doesn't mind when Piper stays around for days on end, hardly dressed and wrapping her arms around Alex's waist as deals go down via text message; maybe it is the fact that they always laugh at the same jokes or maybe it is the way that they can say a million things to each other with just a look – over the rim of a shot glass, from around the edge of a book, right before their lips collide…

…but all those maybes don't count for anything because Alex knows the truth – even as she keeps this kind of honestly locked down tight, nowhere near ready to expose something so damned tender to the world at large - and the truth is that Alex fell for Piper Chapman the very second the woman walked into that bar, the very second their eyes met, the very second those dumb lies on a piece of paper fell away and Piper grinned instead of running away…

…and the truth is that when Alex is around Piper, everything simply slides into place.

/

Alex Vause.

Just a drug-dealing daughter with a few tricks up her sleeve, just a mug shot and tidy little rap sheet, just a head full of what-ifs and half-finished daydreams that star a blonde-haired ex from long ago.

And she doesn't like to look at her life as only a series of moments – the life altering kind, the fuck-you-up kind – but there are far too many hours to pass in prison and so after the shitty food and the lukewarm showers, after the banter and the bickering and the tattered books are laid to rest for the night…

…it is just Alex and her thoughts; it is just Alex and the reel-to-reel of the fucking past that rolls throughout her exhausted mind…

And it is an overcast day in Paris (they say it is so pretty there when it rains but that's bullshit).
And it is the death of her mother (words over a phone line that become lodged in the throat).
And it is Piper walking out the door (the door slams shut and so the knife twists in a bit deeper).

And it is a heart that shatters so completely, so totally (and it cannot be pieced together again).
And it is meaningless money, spent almost before it can be made (spent on anything and on anyone).
And it is using instead of selling, taking and taking until days are lost (and nothing else matters).

…it is just Alex Vause and all of her grand plans going up in smoke…

…it is just Alex Vause, forever belonging nowhere at all.

/

(end)