A/N: So I guess this was inevitable. I think this story asked more questions than it answered, and this is almost the fic I originally planned to write (almost). Anyway, I'm opening what was meant to be a one-shot, up into a multi-chapter exploring Lorna and Nicky's time outside of prison. It's not gonna be a walk in the park. Apologies for any typos – I've barely slept lately. Please do let me know if you notice any.
Lorna moves straight back into her old room.
It's not that she doesn't want to live with Nicky when she offers, more that she knows living with her would result in hours and hours of sex and very little else, and she's got to get herself back on her feet, gotta sort out a real life for herself outside of Litchfield, and can do without the distraction.
(The sex will still happen, though, of course).
Her room doesn't feel right anymore. She peels the pages and pages of magazine clippings off her walls, the boards of wedding plans that were never anything more than a lie, and it makes her feel sick seeing it all again. She leaves the West Side Story poster, and makes a mental note to try and take a picture with Nicky at some point so she can tack that up, make her walls a little less blank, a little less like her prison cube. It's therapeutic though; a fresh start, a blank slate. She dumps the old Lorna's life into a trash bag, ties a knot, and throws it all away.
Her wardrobe is full of clothes she doesn't want to wear, and shoes that are probably worth more than the rest of her family's belongings combined, but that now feel cheap and trashy. She salvages a few tops, her favourite pair of skinny jeans, digs out comfy old clothes that haven't seen the light of day in years, and bags up the rest for throwing out. The trash bags are a stark reminder of everything that's happened and she doesn't want to have to look at them any longer, so she grabs them both and heads towards the door, opening it, and stopping when she hears voices outside her room.
"So what, she's fixed now?"
Franny sighs, "I don't think it works like that, but she seems better, right? Healthier."
"I can't believe she fucks girls now."
"Hey, it's not like she's a dyke... she's just confused. You know how she gets. At least this girl exists, and is actually kinda into her. It makes a nice change, right?"
Lorna can't bear to listen to it anymore, and stumbles away from the door, feeling the all too familiar surge of tears. They're right. What am I doing? It's happening again. Being in this house is dangerous. It's been close to three years, but she knows where all her old vices are, knows that if she digs around under her bed there's a box there that could take away the pain, the voices, the tightness in her chest.
But she also knows that it's only a temporary fix, and she'll wind up feeling worse after, so she leaves it. (She doesn't throw it away though, not with everything else, and that definitely says something about her lack of progress.)
She decides, instead, that she needs to see Nicky. The same Nicky who only left her house a couple of hours ago, to give her 'some time to adjust', promising to see her later in the week. Lorna knows it's a sign of weakness to call her already, but she needs to get away from the constant reminders of who she was, who her family still see her as. She's digging herself a hole; how can she get herself better if she goes from one vice to the next? But she can't think straight, and Nicky is the only person who can help, and even if she can't, she can fuck her until she forgets, and that seems preferable at this moment in time.
Nicky answers on the second ring, and Lorna's scribbling down an address and directions, and grabbing her coat and keys, heading out into the night without so much as a 'goodbye' to her sister.
Driving something other than the prison transport van feels weird. Franny's bashed up Mercedes has a rusty sounding engine that disagrees with the way Lorna turns the key, and the pedals are too far away from her feet, even when she brings the seat all the way forward. But, it's a car, and there's something incredibly calming about being able to drive wherever you want to after years of incarceration. She's never been particularly great at reading a map, and as soon as she opens it, she can't help but flick to the section for Albany, even though she knows she shouldn't, and this isn't about him. She swallows, forcing the map back into the glove compartment, and squeezing her eyes closed. There's too much going on in her head, and it's dark outside, the little red numbers on the dashboard telling her it's nearly midnight, and she doesn't know where she's going.
She slows the car down, grabbing her phone from the passenger's seat and finding Nicky's name in her call log. She doesn't want to call her – it's been an hour; she doesn't want to keep doing this – but she's beginning to panic, and it's just starting to rain, and she hasn't slept in at least 48 hours, so she does. Nicky picks up immediately, tells her to pull over. She'll come and find her. Lorna can feel tears in her eyes as she tries to describe her surroundings, but everything looks the same in the dark, and even Nicky's voice isn't calming her in the way it usually does.
She falls asleep. Someone taps on the glass of her window and she screams, can't work out where she is, only knows that this doesn't look like Litchfield, and she's not in her bunk.
It comes back to her slowly, and she winds the window down to find Nicky standing out in the rain, looking like a cat whose spent all night waiting to be let in. She doesn't ask how she got here, doesn't object when Nicky tells her to go round to the passenger side, and within a few minutes, she's asleep again, face pressed against the cold glass, her mind filled with thoughts of C/Os and paper streamers and only-just-about-thawed waffles.
When she wakes the second time, she's more aware of her surroundings. They're outside an apartment block in a part of town where loft spaces cost more than her family home does, and Nicky's got the window open, exhaling smoke, tapping her fingers distractedly on the door she's resting against, her hair pulled back into a ponytail (Lorna's never seen it that way, thinks it makes her look younger, but doesn't suit her), and, only then, does Lorna realise she's wearing pyjamas.
"Hey."
Nicky stubs her cigarette out and turns to her, looking weary and tired and worried, "hey sleepin' beauty, nice of you to join us."
Rubbing her eyes, Lorna attempts a smile at her, but she's all too aware that it's 1am and she doesn't know what they're doing, and she's been out of prison for less than 24 hours and she's already fucked it up.
"Nicky-" she starts, not really knowing what to say, but knowing she needs to apologise, at least attempt to explain herself.
"We goin' in, or do you wanna sit out here all night?"
Lorna manages a tight lipped smile as Nicky winds the window up (it squeaks, which is actually a nice contrast to the otherwise awkward silence), and steps out of the car, going over to her side, and opening the door for her.
The apartment is as fancy inside as it is out, and Lorna can't help but feel uncomfortable, like she shouldn't be touching anything in case she makes it dirty. Nicky, on the other hand, clearly doesn't care, dropping onto the couch and resting her converse-clad shoes on the coffee table. At closer inspection, there are so many little glimpses of Nicky around the large living area, that they almost outweigh the rich upholstery and too-clean floors. A pizza box under the table, a stack of CDs messily on the side, a whole bunch of dirty cups and plates. A blanket is curled up in the corner of the couch, like maybe Nicky spends more time sleeping here than in her bed. Lorna sits down heavily, her fingers automatically stroking at the soft knit, even as she looks at Nicky.
"Sorry it's so late," she murmurs.
Nicky's looking intently at her, her brow creased, and she hasn't stopped worrying since she got the phone call. Lorna can tell from the way she keeps twitching, keeping her fingers busy, a particular darkness in her eyes.
"Hey, it's cool – you know me, I don't really sleep."
"Me either," Lorna admits, although she knows she used to, remembers actually feeling kinda at home in prison where she had a routine, a set time to sleep, a set time to get up.
They're silent, and it's awkward, and she can't remember a time it's ever been awkward sitting in silence with Nicky, and it makes her want to throw up. Like, maybe this is her life now. Maybe, on the outside, she's quiet and awkward and unhappy, and doesn't sleep.
"It's so quiet out here," Nicky says after a moment, "y'know, I've been out for six months, and I still haven't got used to how quiet it is."
"I thought I'd like being back in the noise of my own home," Lorna agrees, picking at the blanket that she's subconsciously dragged onto her lap, "but it doesn't feel like home anymore."
She knows Nicky's aching to tell her, again, to stay, but she also knows that she can't. She's going to have to face her sister, her parents, soon enough. She just has to take it slow. She was naïve to think she could do this all in one go, go back to normal like nothing had happened, immerse herself in her old life without a second thought. (She doesn't want her old life back; she really, truly doesn't).
"Something really ain't right with me, Nick," she whispers, and just admitting it takes all the air out of her lungs. Sure, Nicky knows. She knows better than most people. She knows about Christopher, and about Angela, and about everything else. But they haven't talked about it, not really, and now that she's outside, she knows they have to. I can't do this to someone again. I can't do it. Not to her.
"It's your first day," Nicky says, pulling Lorna towards her, letting her head fall to her shoulder, "we don't need to talk about this. Not today."
"Have to talk about it eventually."
"I know, but not today, alright kid?"
She wakes up to missed calls, voicemails, text messages... Franny's in a panic and she knows it's because her sister thinks she's gone off the rails again, but Lorna can't quite bring herself to care. She turns her phone off and rolls over, tucking herself back into Nicky's side. It's the first time they've slept together in the real meaning of the word. She realises that, Franny aside, she's never shared a bed with anyone at all, and now that she has, she never wants to sleep alone again. Nicky's still asleep, and she feels soft and warm, and it's not long before Lorna drifts off again, only to wake a few minutes later to the foreign sound of Nicky's alarm.
"Fuck," the other girl mumbles, slamming her hand on the night stand, reaching around for her phone.
"Good morning to you too," Lorna says, surprising herself with how cheerful she sounds this morning.
The annoyance fades out of Nicky's eyes and she draws Lorna closer, greeting her with a lazy kiss, before falling back onto the pillow with a smug smile on her lips. Lorna can't help but giggle, even as she settles down on Nicky's chest, pulling the duvet up around them.
"I have to go to work," Nicky says, but she makes no effort to move.
"Mmmhmm."
"I do. As much as I'd love to stay here and fuck you all day-"
Lorna sits up and looks down at her with a faux look of innocence, "hey hey I never said nothin' about that."
"Yeah, but you were thinking it," she grins, and Lorna swats at her, and it's strange how quickly they've gone back into this comfortable routine, but Lorna craves familiarity, or she wouldn't have come here. She rests back on her chest, and she traces patterns on Nicky's skin with her index finger, feels the steady pulse beneath her head, Nicky's breath on her face, and it's not familiar at all, but at the same time it really really is, and Lorna tells herself she's never going home.
(She knows she's going to have to.)
"Can I stay here until you finish?" she asks, hopefully, looking up at Nicky with a goofy smile.
"Do your folks know where you are?"
She doesn't need to answer, the look on her face is answer enough, and Nicky sighs, and Lorna can't help but feel her heart sink. The one person she never wants to disappoint is disappointed in her. She moves away, turns onto her side so her back is to Nicky, and snuggles into the duvet, desperately trying not to cry.
"You have to go home eventually," Nicky says, and her voice doesn't sound disappointed, just concerned. She moves closer, lies so that she's cradled around Lorna, presses a kiss to the back of her neck.
"I know."
"At least call them, tell them where you are."
Lorna shakes her head, "they don't understand. They don't get it. I don't... I don't belong there no more."
"Hey, come here," she rolls Lorna so that she's facing her, cups her face in her hands, kisses her forehead, then meets her eyes, "they're family, alright Morello? You got a family who love you and want to look after you. I see the way they look at you, kid. I've never once had that in my life, y'know? You've been gone a long time. A lot of shit has happened. It's gonna take time for you to readjust, and you gotta understand... they have to get used to having you back, too."
She doesn't know what to say, so Lorna stays quiet, staring intently into Nicky's eyes. She's always loved Nicky's ability to say things exactly how they are, no sugar-coating. She knows Nicky wouldn't lie to her. She just can't quite convince herself that what she's saying is true.
"You can stay here until I get back, okay? But you've gotta ring them, tell them where you are. And I'm taking you back there tonight."
Unable to think of a substantial argument, Lorna just nods glumly, and Nicky kisses her once more before she slides out of bed, busying herself with getting ready for work. Lorna sighs. This isn't how she imagined her first day of freedom to look. She suddenly feels too warm under the heavy duvet, like the bed is too soft and too clean, and she pushes the covers off. Nicky's in the bathroom – she can hear her humming something whilst she brushes her teeth – and Lorna realises that that alone is strange. She can hear running water from the bed. The room is light, and now that she takes a moment to take a proper look around, she sees a few piles of clothes, a couple of empty Chinese take-out boxes. Nicky's walls are blank and white and it might not look like Litchfield in the slightest, but the room is still too empty, and Lorna feels so small in it that she has to get out.
"Hey hey, where you goin'?" Nicky asks around a mouthful of toothpaste as she sees Lorna run past her, and Lorna stops, not knowing where she's going, or what she's doing. She feels like she's suffocating in an empty void. Finally, Nicky takes her by the shoulders and snaps her out of it.
"I-I don't-" Lorna is trying desperately not to cry again, and she's well aware that it's been less than 24 hours and she's already acting crazy and it's only a matter of time before Nicky snaps, just like everyone else does, and she's in this way-too-big world all by herself.
"I'm taking you home," Nicky states, letting go of her, and taking her tooth brush back to the sink.
"You have work," her voice is small and it doesn't sound like it's coming from her, and the room's spinning, and she doesn't want to argue any longer, but she has to because she's not ruining Nicky's life too. She can't.
"Screw work."
Ten minutes later, they're in Franny's car. Nicky's in her work clothes, but Lorna's still wearing the old t-shirt she borrowed the night before, and a pair of shorts, her hair all over the place. She realises too late that she left her phone on Nicky's floor, but it doesn't seem to matter, not in the grand scale of things.
In true Nicky style, she turns the car radio up full volume, and she's driving too fast, and if Lorna didn't feel sick before, she definitely does, but she can't tell her to slow down because that would involve speaking, and she's not sure she can do that right now.
When they arrive, Nicky leaves her in the car, and Lorna watches as she knocks on the Morello's front door. She watches the interaction between Nicky and her sister, and feels nothing but shame when she sees the anger melt out of Franny's expression, replaced with one of concern. She squeezes Nicky's hand, and Lorna wants to shout at her to get off her, that she shouldn't pretend to be something she isn't, but she's frozen still in the car, and Franny's too far away.
Nicky helps her out, and her legs seem to walk her to the house by their own accord; it's certainly not Lorna controlling them. She can hear her sister talking, and Nicky answering, but their words are going straight over her head, and she's in a daze, staring at everything and nothing at the same time, only snapped out of it when Nicky takes her hand, squeezes it, and drops a kiss onto her forehead.
"I'll see you soon, alright? Chapman wants to take us out for lunch... but we'll wait, okay? Til you're a bit more... settled in? Morello?"
She nods, her throat too dry to speak, and she wants to close her eyes and pretend like today never happened because the one person who has always believed in her, who has always seen past the crazy, has finally seen her for the monster she really is, and now she can't bear to live with herself. But she nods, and when Nicky hugs her, she hugs back, and as she walks inside, she can't help but throw a look over her shoulder, with a soft "hey, Nichols?"
"Yeah, kid?"
She smiles a little, "nice uniform."
Nicky sticks her middle finger up at her with that ridiculous lop-sided smirk of hers, and Lorna can only hope that maybe things will go back to normal for them once she's sorted herself out. (If she sorts herself out.)
"You scared us half to death Lor. You can't do that, okay? You can't take my car and drive off and not tell us where you're going. Jesus Christ. I don't need this, okay, my stress levels are already high enough raising two kids by myself but... Lorna, would you at least listen to me?"
She hasn't even realised she was zoning out, but she snaps back out of it when her sister physically shakes her, and the look of horror in Franny's eyes makes her heart sink even further.
"I love you," Franny says, squeezing her arm, "I know you don't believe me, but I do. I'm only trying to look out for my baby sister, y'know? But you gotta throw me a break every now and again. Jesus, Lorna, you look like shit."
"You don't like her," she finally lets out.
"Who?"
"Nicky."
As if she wasn't already sure enough, the way Franny's cheeks flush dark scarlet confirms every suspicion, and Lorna's jaw clenches. She didn't like Christopher either. The thought is there before she can swallow it, and it's followed by a moment of panic that makes Lorna's heart race. She's known the differentiation for weeks now, months. She blinks, like maybe that will help her mind to settle, the fuzziness to dissipate, but she can't stop thinking this isn't happening and she wants Nicky, but she's also glad she's not here to witness it. Too late, she realises Franny's been talking, and she's just completely zoned out from the whole thing.
"...so, you see, we just wanna understand. You gotta see where we're coming from. You like guys. We know you like guys. Chr- you've always liked guys," Franny says, and she stumbles over the last words, like saying Christopher's name in this house is somehow dirty, like just mentioning him might trigger her, force all those thoughts and feelings to come back.
It wasn't real it wasn't real it wasn't real.
"Lorna?"
Focus on Nicky. Nicky's real. Nicky and her beautiful smile and her long, thick eyelashes, and her big brown eyes. The way Nicky says your name. The way she feels, smells, tastes. The sound she makes when you touch her just there. The way she-
"Lorna!"
Franny's shaking her again, and she can feel tears clouding her vision, and she needs to lie down. Needs to somehow collect her thoughts.
What she really needs, she thinks, is to be back at Litchfield, driving her van, cracking jokes, eating burnt sausages and watery eggs, peeling potatoes in Red's kitchen, arguing with Boo, giggling with Nicky.
Nicky Nicky Nicky.
Lorna squeezes her eyes closed. She needs to stop thinking about her. Needs to stop thinking at all.