Show some love and respect...
Lorna clutches at her shirt with limp, weak fingers, coated in blood. She tries to sit up, tries to speak, but all that comes out is less than a whisper, a breath of 'Nicky' that's there but not quite there. The blood's pooling between their fingers that are squashed together against her throat, and Nicky's screaming "help, please, someone fucking help" until her own voice is hoarse, but nobody's coming. People walk past like they don't even hear, don't even see them, and her vision is getting blurred with tears and blood as she watches Lorna fade away in her arms, pale and clammy and covered in deep red blood.
Nicky wakes up shaking, and crying, and drowning in sweat.
It's the same dream she's had every night for the last three nights. The same dream she fears she will have for the rest of her time in Litchfield, or at least until Lorna comes back.
If Lorna comes back.
She knows she's not dead because the C/Os keep using the words 'in critical condition'.
"We're doing this sweep because an inmate remains in critical condition in a local hospital"
"May we remind you that an inmate is in critical condition after the events of Saturday"
Nicky doesn't need to be reminded. She still sees it every time she closes her eyes, still hears the whispers around her when she walks down the corridor, sits down in the lunch hall, even when she's sitting alone on her own fucking bunk.
They issue bunk sweeps every day. They have C/Os patting people down in the yard. They don't find anything. Whatever someone used to puncture Lorna's neck is long gone.
The investigation, as Nicky had already predicted, turns up nothing. All that happens is everyone is forced to sit in their little room and talk awkwardly about someone who, the majority of them, knew nothing about. Not really.
She overhears some of the spanish girls, the one with the eyeliner, and her friend, complaining about how strict everything has got, and how it isn't fair that they've had their bunks swept three times in the last two days, and she can't help but snap at them, lose her temper. Lorna is in fucking hospital and they care more about the fact their lipstick was taken away.
When she walks into the library, hoping to find solace in a book (more than likely in the pictures rather than the text; she can't concentrate on anything longer than a few minutes lately), Taystee and Poussey are having a loud discussion and it only takes her a few seconds to realise what it's about.
"93% of neck wound victims die before they even make it to the hospital. And even after that, like 5% survive. I've done my research, P! You know I take my salted snacks seriously! There is no fucking way she's gonna make it back here. That's if she hasn't bitten it already."
It takes all of Nicky's willpower not to go over there and smash her fist through Taystee's face. There's no point in making more enemies in this place, especially someone who is part of Vee's crew. She knows this damn place takes bets on just about everything, but how long Lorna's going to live is fucking low. She leaves the library before she says or does something she regrets.
No one really wants to spend time with her anymore, and she can't exactly blame them because she's snapped at just about everyone. Still, Chapman keeps coming back for more, and though there are times when Nicky wants to tell her to fuck off (in fact, she literally does do that... twice), she can't help but admire her for sticking around. She is grateful, even if she can't always show it.
She's still happier alone, though, and she's not at all pleased when her hiding place in the Chapel is disturbed my someone tapping her on the shoulder, less so when she sees it's a C/O, but it's only when she notices which one that she sits fully up, a small smile spreading across her face for the first time in days.
"Well, look who's back," she says, putting her headphones to one side.
Fischer looks embarrassed as she explains herself, "they needed extra people with the security increase and everything. I guess you're probably disappointed in me for coming back. I didn't take your advice."
It feels good to have a conversation with someone that isn't revolving around Lorna, to be talked to by someone who isn't tip-toeing around her like she's a bomb ready to go off. For a moment, she can pretend everything's normal.
"Naw, I'm kinda glad to see you, truth be told," she says, then quickly adds, "don't worry, I'm not hitting on you this time."
Fischer laughs uneasily, "I shouldn't be talking to you, you know,"
"Sure. This never happened," she says, grabbing her headphones.
She smiles, then sits down in the row of chairs behind her, leaning on the back of where Nicky's been lying, her face suddenly growing serious. Nicky inwardly moans, braces herself for whatever awkward conversation is coming next. There's only so many times you can hear the words 'I'm sorry' before they become meaningless, and Nicky reached her quota days ago.
"I've been talking to the hospital," Fischer finally says after a moment, "she's in ICU. They took her straight to surgery. She's really lucky that they... missed anything vital. She's just started breathing on her own, so... I mean... the news isn't great, but she's hanging in there."
For a long moment, Nicky just stares at her, trying to process everything she's just been told, but it feels like too much information, and her brain is too tired to connect the dots. It doesn't feel real, talking about Lorna being strapped to a machine, tubes down her throat. It just doesn't feel real at all. She keeps expecting to see her in the lunch hall, shovelling scrambled eggs down and talking with her mouthful, the reality of the situation still struggling to sink in. Even now, even as Fischer talks about her, it feels like they're talking about somebody else, that it can't possibly be Lorna because Lorna is like sunshine and she doesn't belong in such a dim place.
"Thank you," she finally says, swallowing awkwardly, "I mean it... thank you."
"I'm gonna keep checking in with them but... you know I shouldn't be telling you any of this at all. So, if anyone asks..."
"I'll keep schtum," Nicky says, gesturing pulling a zipper across her mouth.
Fischer smiles sadly, "I just know how much she means to you and... well, I've always liked her, you know?"
She makes to go, and Nicky watches her get to the door before she calls after her, "Hey, Fischer? It's good to have you back."
She shoots her a smile, and disappears outside.
At lunch, she actually chooses to sit next to Chapman, rather than have the blonde sit down opposite her when she's not looking. This seems to take her by surprise, and when Piper asks her how she's doing today, there's more than a hint of hesitation in her voice, like she's afraid Nicky's about to bite her head off.
"Look, Chapman... I know I have some, uh, apologies to make here," she wipes her hands nervously on her pants, runs her fingers through her hair, "Ey, I don't do 'sorrys' so can we just cut the bullshit and pretend I said something deep and touching here?"
Piper's eyes soften and she smiles, "of course. And hey, it's fine, people react to bad news in different ways..."
"You're the only person who is still talking to me even though I've treated you like shit," Nicky says, looking about the rest of the lunch hall, "I appreciate it, y'know?"
"I don't think it's so much that people aren't talking to you because you've hurt them, Nicky. I think people are trying to give you some space."
She knows there's a lot of truth in what Piper's saying even if she doesn't want to admit it. Hasn't she been begging for everybody to leave her alone, and now that they have, she's lonely. She needs to make her mind up because right now she doesn't even want to be with herself, so why would anybody else?
"Either way, I appreciate you putting up with my shit," she finally says, shrugging.
Piper smiles around her cup of juice, places it back on her tray, "have you heard anything yet?"
"Only that she's hanging in there. You know the black girls have fucking put a bet on how long it is before she croaks it? Can you believe people in here? Like, her life is worth the same as a packet of fucking salted peanuts."
"I could, uh, get Larry to-"
Nicky laughs, and the noise catches her by surprise, so she swallows it, "no, god... please... you don't need to do that."
Smiling, Piper returns to her dinner, "at least you know she's in the best place possible. They'll look after her in there."
I hope so, Nicky thinks as she half-heartedly tucks into her lunch.
Nicky sleeps. Nicky has nightmares. Nicky wakes up.
It's become so much a routine for her that it barely even bothers her anymore. There's twenty minutes or so initially when she wakes up where she fights back the need to be sick, and her heart is racing, and it takes her a moment to work out where she is, but after that, it's just the same old. She thinks that pretty much says it all.
Norma always stares at her with this frightened expression on her face until she tells her it's fine and she can go back to sleep. Nicky never goes back to sleep, though. She spends hours lying there, doing nothing, waiting for it to be breakfast time so she can go back to being busy. It's only when she's busy that she isn't thinking. She's well aware that she's looking more and more like a zombie every day; two hours of restless sleep a night is not enough to keep going on, but it's all her body is allowing.
On her way to electrical, she passes Vee and her girls making quiet conversation outside the bathroom, and normally she wouldn't give it a fucking second thought, but out of nowhere she stops walking and stands there, staring at them, for a good few seconds. She knows they have shit. She knows because four fucking days ago she was holding it in her hands, staring at it, liking the way it felt in her hands even if she didn't want to admit to it. She really thought about doing it, too. It had taken all the strength she possessed to take it to Red, to get rid of it. That was before somebody took Lorna out, before her life began to lose any of the slim meaning it had had before. Now she wasn't so sure she would make the same decision.
"Something we can help you with?" Vee says in that sickly way of hers, her lips drawn in a cunning little smile, and Nicky, not for the first time, wants to knock that smirk off her face.
"No," she finally says, forcing her feet to keep walking.
She searches the corridor for Fischer, but she's nowhere in sight, and she figures even if she was she wouldn't want to talk right here, in the open, where everyone can see. When she arrives at electrical, she's late, but she knows she's not going to receive a shot because even aside from everything else, she and Luschek have an understanding. He merely raises his eyebrows when she strolls in, and she waves a hand in his direction, takes her seat beside Piper.
The blonde is looking more antsy than usual, and she sits fidgeting whilst Luschek gives them their daily objectives, spending more time looking at Nicky than listening to what he's saying. It's making Nicky uncomfortable. As soon as he's done – she and Chapman are assigned to fixing a heater, which is a joke in itself because everyone knows this shithole never lets them have heaters, and the one that's dumped on their workbench is definitely from the C/O break room – she brings Piper up on it.
"Okay, what is it? I know I look like microwaved shit, but quit staring at me will you?"
Piper sighs, looks down, then meets her eyes again, "I guess you didn't see that they've... well, they've reassigned Lorna's bunk."
She feels all the blood drain from her face, her fists clench, her throat go dry. It was only a matter of time. She knows that. But it still hurts to think of somebody else sleeping there, somebody else using her locker.
"What did they do with her stuff?" she says around the lump that's forming, "you know what they did with her stuff? Tell me they didn't throw out her stuff, Chapman."
"I.. well, I know they took away some of it for the investigation but..."
"Fuck this," Nicky stands up from her workbench, "eyy, Luschek, I need to go to take a leak. That cool with you?"
"Nichols, you know I don't give a shit what you do as long as you ain't causing any trouble. Knock yourself out."
She finds Boo kicking it in the rec room, and she hasn't spoken to her since all this shit with Red went down, but she's more than happy to break the silence if it means getting Lorna's stuff back. She marches into the room and practically grabs her by the lapels, even though she knows that's a fucking mistake. Boo's at least three stone heavier than her, and easily shrugs her off.
"Good to see you too, Nichols," she sneers, pushing her away, "I'm gonna let you off from that because I know you're having a rough week, but, son, you come near me again and they'll be serving you in the cafeteria for lunch, you hear me?"
"Cut the shit, Boo, I didn't come here for a fight. Chapman told me they reassigned Lorna's bunk."
Boo nods, folds her arms, "sure. What's it to you? She's not gonna be around anytime soon to be needing it back."
Nicky ignores that comment, even though she feels it to the bottom of her stomach. No matter how many times she's reminded, it never stops hurting, never feels any less like a punch to the chest. She runs her fingers through her particularly messy hair, swallows.
"I'm gonna level with you. I need to know they didn't chuck her shit out. Her lipstick, those pictures of Mr. Snuggles and the cat... Hell, even her fucking shoes. I need to know that shit is all safe somewhere."
Shrugging her hefty shoulders, Boo wipes her mouth, looks at her with bright, leering eyes, "it's gonna cost you."
"What could I possibly have that you want?"
"Oh come on, you know what I'm talking about. You get Red to-"
Nicky rolls her eyes, "Red's not going to suddenly accept you back into the family with fucking wide arms. Be real. I don't have that kind of control over her and you fucking know it."
"Fine. You're catching me in a particularly charitable mood so I will tell you what I know, but only because your racist little girlfriend got herself shanked and I've been given someone with the common sense of a potato in her place – yes, there is in fact someone in this dump who is thicker than Morello."
"Watch your mouth," Nicky warns, her fist automatically clenching.
Boo holds her hands up in surrender, "okay okay. They sent Fischer to sort her shit out – did you know that wet flannel is back? - anyways, she took most of it. The pictures, some of her books... your mute roommate had already collected her clothes. As for her lipstick," Boo delves her hand into her pocket, holds it out.
As Nicky goes to reach for the tube of lipstick, Boo's fingers close around it.
"Oh come on, it's hardly your fucking shade,"
"Next time a shipment comes in from Red, you get me whatever I ask for," Boo says, holding the tube just out of Nicky's reach.
"Yeah, whatever."
She takes the lipstick and pockets it, heads back to electrical, making a mental note to find Fischer at some point.
A/N: Please don't get too used to me updating this quickly because I don't want to disappoint anyone, lol. Also, apologies if any of this doesn't quite link up timewise to the show - when you watch every episode in one go and keep rewatching them out of order, it gets a bit fuzzy.
