All right folks, this one's a bit shorter. Thanks again for the marvelous reviews, the follows, and the favorites. I only got back to Fanfiction recently, and it's my first time publishing on this website, so the enthusiastic reception was heartwarming. I hope I'll be able to keep meeting your high expectations...
It was only because they said 'good morning' that Piper knew it was another day. They kept the lights on at night, and without natural light to guide her biological cycle, she had lost every sense of time. She couldn't remember when she got here. She couldn't imagine ever getting out. Nothing of her surroundings seemed to register. The doctors all seemed the same and sounded the same, even though in an obscure lucid part of her brain Piper knew there had to be more than one person. But it didn't matter. There was only thing which occupied her time in here (no longer day or night, but a timeless limbo with light that felt like darkness): the image of Alex, lying on the floor of the greenhouse, spreadeagled on the wood with her limbs at awkward angles, and blood. Too much blood.
And Aydin, a ghoul from Piper's past which she only remembered when they cuffed him, and he sneered at her. He looked like he'd wanted to say something to her, but he'd restrained himself. And it had been the look of Aydin struggling against the guards which tugged her out of her paralysis, and movement came back to her limbs, and sound to her throat.
'ALEX!'
She had tried to run towards the woman on the floor, but she felt herself tugged back. And she had pulled, and pushed, and strained every muscle in her body against the anonymous power which restrained her, all the while keeping her eyes on Alex, all the while yelling her name — the only word which kept its meaning after all other words seemed to have run out. Alex. The word still scrawled through her mind like a news crawler on television, running off against the main picture — her last image of Alex frozen on the screen of her eyes.
Alex.
They gave her medication, she thought; now and then (she couldn't tell how often) someone came in to give her an injection. For what, Piper didn't know — she rarely moved. She almost couldn't remember how it felt to walk. Along with her sense of time, her sense of space had seeped out.
Someone had tried to talk to her. About her outburst at the scene. About the tattoos that now covered one arm and a big portion of her chest. Self-harm, they called it. Piper had thought of it as a branding. A memento. A set of emblems that spread parasitically over her skin, to remind her of the terrible thing she did. Of the blood that was already on her hands. The actual words, pictures, drawings, hadn't so much mattered. It was the pain of the engraving. But she had relished the pain. She had deserved it, and nobody else would punish her the way she needed to be punished. So she had done so herself. And they had stopped her. She didn't see it as self-harm. But they did. And as long as she kept insisting that it had been necessary, she knew they'd keep her down here. But that, she thought, was no more than she deserved. When she had still been up there she had, in a rush of grief, headed over to Healy's office, so she could beg him for her to be taken down to SHU. Others — she couldn't remember now who they were — had restrained her. Others kept restraining her, it seemed.
But that too, was no more than she deserved. Piper knew she was a dangerous woman. She should be kept far away from others. The paradox that kept her somewhere in a state between life and death, was the knowledge that Alex, at least, was now far away from her influence. That thought sustained her. And yet, the same thought also seemed to rob her of any reason to live. Alex Vause was dead, and it was on her hands. Piper was a murderer.
When Alex woke up the next day, she felt a tightness around her temples. She'd had headaches in the hospital the first few weeks after she'd woken up, but they had abated after a while. According to the doctor, it was purely stress, so they had urged her on her discharge not to exert herself too much. Lying on her back in her bunk — not half as comfortable as her hospital bed — Alex thought that she might have overdone it yesterday when she'd confronted Caputo. Then again, she thought, it was not entirely her fault. There had been a lot to process, after all. Piper's recent removal to Psych had been only one of many shocks.
It took her a while to get back into prison routine. Because she'd had mostly nothing to do while she was in the hospital, getting up was more difficult than she'd anticipated, and she didn't make the shower at 5am as she usually did. She made it for breakfast, where she sat silently with her regular crew. After breakfast, she went back to her bunk. She hadn't received an assignment yet, though Caputo had promised her that she'd never have to work with the garden crew again. Alex had replied that she never had much of a green thumb anyway.
There was nothing she'd much prefer doing otherwise, though she thought she wouldn't like to work in the Whisper workshop. Too many bad associations. After everything that had happened, she felt almost nostalgic for the laundry room. The work was mind-numbing, it was gruelingly hot during summer, and the company was lousy, but while she had worked in the laundry, she thought, everything had been all right between Piper and her. It was only when she got assigned to the ground crew, and Piper had gotten the Whisper job, that everything had gone downhill. And while Alex knew that the job assignments in themselves were only circumstantially contributing factors to their sputtering relationship, the whole business had given her a distaste for anything related to either hoeing or sewing.
Alex remained in her bunk during most of the morning. She tried reading, but reading exacerbated her headache, so she settled down and listened, inanely, to the radio. She was surprised when, around 11am, she was called into Healy's office.
'Vause,' he said. 'Sit down.'
Vaguely surprised at this show of civility, Alex took a seat.
Healy looked at her. 'You will be aware that officer Rogers has been discharged,' he said.
Alex frowned. 'Officer Rogers?'
Healy put on his spectacles, taking up a paper from his desk. 'I believe the inmates called her "Berdie",' he said, unable to keep the disdain from his voice. He looked down at the paper in his hand. 'She was your counselor when you came in a few months ago, yes?'
'Yes.'
'Well, since she has been discharged, you are back on my list, which means that I have been asked to assign you to a new job.'
'Right,' Alex said, sitting back. 'Brilliant.'
Healy narrowed his eyes and sat back, mimicking Alex's pose. 'Now, listen here, Vause,' he said. 'We both know that I don't like you, but Caputo here has asked me to give you a new assignment which doesn't involve gardening.' He shook his head. 'And while I don't believe in giving inmates preferential treatment, after your ahh, incident, I've been given orders from higher up to be nice to you. So,' he continued, leaning forward and folding his hands on his desk, 'I've written down a few suggestions for you, and I'd like you to tell me whether or not you feel up to the job.'
He finished this last sentence with such apparent distaste, Alex could tell how much he hated being nice to her. Barely managing to keep in her gloat, Alex nodded, biting her lip. 'Okay,' she said. 'That sounds fair.'
Healy's face reddened. He didn't look at Alex, but kept his face glued to the paper in his hand. 'Okay. Since it's a popular job, and there has been a — vacancy — recently, would you like to work in the Whisper workshop?'
Alex felt her stomach tense. She knew Healy was purposefully referencing Piper, and it sickened her. She shook her head. 'No, I'll think I'll pass on Whisper,' she said.
Healy looked up at her over his glasses. 'You sure about that?'
Alex nodded. 'Positive.'
Healy sighed, theatrically crossing out a line on his paper. 'Okay, well, Luschek has asked for some more hands back in Electrical, if you're up for that?'
Alex bit her lip, and she felt the knot in her stomach tighten further. When she replied, her voice was carefully contained. 'Actually, sir,' she said, 'if there would still be some room in the laundry, I'd prefer getting back there...'
Healy paused, pinning her with a look. 'Laundry,' he said, nodding slowly while he rifled his papers. 'I think there might be a spot for you there, yes...'
Alex deflated, her muscles relaxing. 'Thank you, sir,' she said pointedly.
'You sure?' Healy said, and Alex couldn't stop herself from cocking an icy eyebrow at him.
'I'm positive, sir,' she said. 'If it wouldn't be too much trouble.'
'No, not at all,' he said lightly. He nodded and closed his paper bundle. 'All right, Vause, you'll be expected tomorrow at the laundry. Don't be late.'
Alex rolled her eyes as she got up. 'I won't, sir.'
It was with a mixture of anger and relief that she exited Healy's office. She was relieved that she'd gotten her old job back, and might finally be able to find some normalcy in her current situation — but angry that Healy had pettily tried so hard to get under her skin. And angry, finally, with herself, that he had been able to. Alex had always prided herself on being a bastion of impenetrability when it came to feelings. Once Piper had shown up in her life, that bastion had been breached, and Alex still didn't know whether to be grateful or furious about it.
