Alex Vause lay awake for hours on the night of the day she gave Piper what for. She hated the weight that had settled in her chest, the lead that now clotted in her veins, the acid behind her eyes, and more than that she hated the familiarity of it, because yes, she'd been here before.
Say what you really mean, she'd challenged, and Piper had, and just like that Alex found herself once again gutted, hollowed-out and aching with it, with the knowledge that this had been inevitable, that she'd been fooling herself all along, with the self-loathing that came from knowing she'd let herself get sucked back into Piper's orbit in the first place, when the last time had almost fucking killed her.
It would be so much easier to hate her. And yet, if it were in Alex to hate Piper, she thought she probably would have managed it by now. She'd been trying for years.
It had been a reasonable facsimile, there in the library. For a few moments Alex was able to look at Piper and see all the reasons she had to hate her, stretching back through the years, the hurts and slights, the insecurities and uncertainties, the way she had of making Alex feel so vulnerable, so flayed-open and raw and at the absolute mercy of another human being.
You may never come to me again.
Piper had bought it, for sure. She had looked into Alex's eyes and seen nothing but ice, and it had hurt her, Alex had seen her words hit their mark and felt a surge of nauseating satisfaction, a small terrible victory that made her want to throw up. She shoved her chair back and walked out of the library before Piper could take note of the sheen in her eyes, behind her glasses.
In the hallway she punched a wall, hard, splitting one knuckle and drawing stares from a few of the golden girls loitering outside the caf. She barely felt it.
She barely felt anything for the rest of the day, in fact. Wasn't sure she ever would again, or that she wanted to. She and Piper sat at different ends of the table at dinner, and Nicky made a few cracks to lighten the mood, and finally, catching a particularly sharp raised-eyebrow from Alex, she threw up her hands in surrender and shoved half a roll into her mouth.
Alex didn't know how long she'd lain in bed, staring at the dark ceiling and tracing its familiar cracks with her eyes, cracks that were blurry and indistinct because of the dimness or her abysmal eyesight or the fact that she hadn't blinked in a while, or maybe all of those reasons.
She sat up with a frustrated grunt and felt around for her glasses until she caught them between her fingers and shoved them into place on her nose. Now the shadows were well-defined, at least. And now she had to take a piss.
The bathroom should have been quiet at this time of night, but as soon as she shuffled in, running a hand through her tangled hair and yawning, she heard something, noises both muffled and strangely echoing, hollow. A grunt, a half-suppressed moan, the soft squeak of a bare foot on tile.
Great. She'd walked in on some late-night fucking. More power to 'em, she thought, slipping into one of the open stalls and settling down on the freezing metal seat.
She finished her business and then considered not flushing so as not to interrupt the lovebirds, but that was just fucking gross, so she flushed and muttered a "Sorry" vaguely in the direction of the noises.
And that's when Pennsatucky and the bland, inbred-looking meth-head who was always stuck up her ass emerged from the corner by the showers. Alex froze, a smirk curling her lip. "No fucking way, you two?" she said, almost giddily. Then, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and leaning toward Doggett: "Wait a minute, does Jesus know you're fucking a girl?"
She expected something: a sucker punch, maybe, or some lame-ass threats, or even just damningly angry denial and another evangelical tirade about how lesbians won't make the Rapture bus. Instead, Pennsatucky kept her eyes fixed on Alex and reached back to seize a handful of her creepy friend's shirt. "Go," she said, tugging the girl past her, and the girl went. Alex watched, puzzled now but still smirking, as the Jesus freak followed her friend out of the bathroom, walking backward so she could keep her eyes on Alex the whole time. Then the bathroom was empty once more.
No. No, it wasn't.
There were quiet whimpers coming from one of the shower stalls.
Alex's blood froze in her veins.
"Oh fuck, no. Fuck."
She filled her lungs with air that somehow didn't seem to contain enough oxygen and forced her leaden feet to move to the shower stall at the end of the row.
Fuck.
She hit her knees before her brain had time to register what her eyes were seeing, and started clawing furiously at the dirty T-shirt fabric shoved in Piper's mouth and knotted behind her head. Piper's blue eyes were impossibly wide, tears streaming from them and soaking into the makeshift gag as Alex fought with it.
Blood, there's so much blood, where is the fucking blood coming from?
Finally the gag loosened enough to slip off of Piper's mouth, and she began to sob in earnest. Alex took her by the shoulders and began to scan her body with her eyes, methodically, detached, almost rough. "Where are you bleeding from, Piper, huh? Where did they cut you?"
When Piper only continued to sob, Alex put her hands on her shoulders and shook her a little. "Hey. I need you to work with me here, Pipes. Where are you hurt?"
Piper continued to take ragged gulps of air, but she looked down toward her chest, where her hands were clasped tightly. Alex pried them away and unceremoniously pulled down the loose fabric of the regulation sleep shirt she was wearing, exposing Piper's breasts. Alex couldn't stifle the gasp that tore from her lungs.
Carved crudely across Piper's breasts, the delicate white skin throwing a sharp contrast at the jagged, angry, bloody slashes, was the word "WHORE."
All rational thought ceased. Alex was on her feet before she knew what she was doing, her fists clenched so hard her nails bit into her skin. "I'll fucking kill her," she said, not addressing Piper and without a trace of hyperbole.
She had taken one step when Piper's hand closed around her ankle, and Alex was so blind with fury that she reflexively kicked out, hard, so that Piper's hand fell away.
"Alex," Piper croaked through her tears. "Please don't. Please."
Her vision clearing and her violent impulse melting, Alex looked down at Piper, sprawled on the floor of the shower, blood soaking through her shirt and her mangled chest still exposed, tears coursing down her cheeks. Suddenly Alex was on her knees again, gathering Piper up in her arms, rocking her back and forth, back and forth.
"Don't. Please don't leave. Please don't leave."
You may never come to me again.
Pressing her lips roughly against the top of Piper's head, she murmured words of comfort and love, forgiveness and apology, all encapsulated in a simple phrase, repeated and repeated to the rhythm of her rocking.
"I'm here, baby. I'm here."