Sam sauntered the corridors of the grocery store, boredly reading each brand he passed. It's funny how just a few weeks in the mental ward of a hospital can make a man forget how to function in the "real world". But hence mental ward, being functional in the "real world" wasn't his forte. Sam wasn't totally sure what he was looking for but anything not microwaved and rubber was a must. As he made the corner of the pasta isle he took note of a woman with an elaborate scarf wrapped around her head, struggling to reach the pesto sauce. He could hear a soft grunt and a few undeciferable words muttered under her breath. With a small smile he stepped beside her and grabbed the jar.
"Seems they place the most useful stuff higher and higher" he says meekly as he placed the jar into the feminine hand.
"You're telling me" was her reply
He knew that voice. He knew it well. But that voice belonged in another world, another plane of existance. He looked down and their eyes met.
There she was.
Her face was still rather pale, her make up was minimal and the stress lines were evident. But she looked brighter and above all she looked….human.
"Red?" he exclaimed "Is that…really you?"
"It's been a while Sam but not that long" the russian chuckled
"No. I just mean its such a surprise to see you not….I mean I'm happy to…its just I've never…"
"Never seen me not as an inmate?"
He wanted to argue but he gaped dumbly.
"Usually I would I have you pay for your lack of manners but…" she sighed looking around sheepihly "….I'm adjusting myself."
"How long have you been out?"
"Mmm just a couple weeks."
"But why? How?"
"Apparently torturing an old lady and then forcing her to serve more time isn't appealing to the masses."
The mention of torture caused the officer's stomach to turn sour and persperation to gather at the back of his neck. He had heard about the goings on at Litchfield; the riots, the speeches, the wait out, the riot teams and of course the sickening video circulating the net. He knew Chapman and Vuase were involved. He certainly knew that an older inmate had faced the worst of the mistreatment but for some reason Red wasn't considered in his mind. Red was too iron willed, too clever, and so much larger than life to be taken down. But there she was before him confirming the awful truth.
"Red I'm…I'm so sorry."
"It has happened and I am out" she said with a shrug "Now I get to be annoyed by my boys instead of my girls."
Her smile faltered at the mention of her precious girls still locked away.
"I'm sure your boys are happy to see you."
She lets out an unconvinced huff but says nothing more. The two continue to look at one another unsure of what to do next. Sam glances towards her basket.
"What are you cooking tonight?" he asked with a grin
"Stuffed shells" she replies "It's so simple but REAL food Sam! It's incredible. I feel like a child in the playground again!"
Sam couldn't help but smile. It was always a joy to see the redhead glow with light when speaking of her passions even in the most dismal of times. He was happy to see that her most recent trauma still wasn't able to take away what she loved most.
"I admit I'm starting to understand" Sam chuckled
Red raised an eyebrow.
"Hospital food isn't exactly a four star service. I was only there for a few weeks. I don't know how you survived twenty years of it."
Her face softened ever so slightly.
"Are you recovering from your…." she circles a finger in his dirction "crazy spell"
The gentlemen shakes his head with a smirk. How very her to never tip toe around the subject at hand.
"I am."
"Good. Then you will join me for dinner."
"Tonight?"
"Yes. Tonight."
"Will your family mind?"
"They are off doing who knows what and they annoy me anyways. You will be better comanpy."
"Well alright then."
"Alright then."
A plan set. Another smile shared. The two old friends slowly make their way down the aisles and into a night of good company.