Author's Note: Things are getting a little bit dark up in here, but now we're getting to the meat of the story. Fourteen years in prison would, I imagine, fuck anybody right up. Red's a badass, but even the toughest cookies crumble sometimes.

Learning to Fly

Healy was ecstatic when, after the dishes from dinner were placed in the dishwasher and the leftover stroganoff put in the fridge, Red asked him if he'd like to stay the night. It was Friday, and he didn't work weekends, so he agreed enthusiastically. They went to bed early after a few more hours of conversation at the kitchen table, and made love again by the light of the lamp on Red's bedside table. Healy spooned her when they finished, reveling in the scent of her hair and the feeling of her skin beneath his hands. He had just about dropped off to sleep when Red suddenly turned over. The motion of the mattress jolted Healy, and he opened his eyes to find her looking at him.

"Sam?" she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry. I can't…I can't sleep like this," she said, moving out of his embrace. He groaned groggily, and she looked mildly guilty. "I really am sorry. I've just spent so much time sleeping by myself…"

"It's okay," Healy muttered, "Do whatever you have to do to get comfortable."

Red kissed his forehead and then rolled over, her back to him and several inches between their bodies. Then she had an idea. She twisted one arm behind her back, her hand seeking and finding his. He smiled at this, and squeezed her hand to let her know that there were no hard feelings. This really wasn't a hell of a lot more comfortable for Red than having his body up against her, but she was learning that Healy was the kind of man who needed affectionate physical contact. Besides, she liked touching him. With their fingers entwined, they both drifted off fairly quickly.

Healy was briefly woken several hours later by the sound of crying. He thought that he felt the mattress move beneath him but, through the haze of sleep, he didn't remember where he was. Assuming that he was home alone in his own bed, he concluded that he must be dreaming, and soon dozed off again. This time, though, he slept uneasily and then finally woke up all the way. He remembered all that happened in the last 24 hours. Barely believing that any of it had been real, he reached out for Red, and his heart sank when she wasn't there. So he did dream it, after all.

He rolled over and turned on the lamp, then blinked in confusion when he realized that the room around him wasn't his. Then everything with Red had been real. But where was she? Healy threw back the covers and got out of bed, reaching to the floor for his boxers and undershirt.

Cautiously, he exited the bedroom, navigating the unfamiliar hallway and hoping that she hadn't just stepped out to go to the bathroom. If that were the case, then his wandering her son's house looking for her would be awkward. When Healy entered the kitchen, she was there, sitting at the table in a white silk robe and staring contemplatively at a cup of tea.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, making her jump as he broke her reverie. Her eyes were wide and terrified as she looked at him, trying to tamp down her panic.

"Sam…I…no, I have trouble sometimes," she stammered. Then she gave him a small, insincere smile, "At night, when everyone's asleep, this house can get way too quiet. I'm used to being surrounded by twenty other women snoring or talking in their sleep."

"I thought I heard you crying earlier…" Healy began, but she cut him off by standing up, turning her back to him, and moving towards a cabinet.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, not giving him much of a choice, as she had already pulled out a cup and lined the bottom of it with tea leaves.

"Umm…yeah, sure," he replied, watching her make the tea and then taking a sip when Red set his cup down in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she gave him what he had once heard one of her prison daughters call "the look that makes my ass leak." Healy wasn't immune to the effects of her warning stares, but he gathered up his courage, momentarily abandoned his sanity, and threw caution to the wind.

"You were crying earlier, weren't you?" he asked. Red said nothing, but he continued, "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she said shortly.

"It wasn't anything that I did, was it?" he pressed. Red rolled her eyes and set her cup down on the table, more forcefully than she needed to.

"If we're going to do this thing, Sam—and I mean, really do this, then you're going to have to stop believing that you're the source of all my problems. I get that you've kind of been conditioned by other women to think that way, but I spent fourteen years in prison. There are bigger issues in my life than your snoring and drooling."

"Fair enough," Healy replied, "But if we're really going to do this, then you're going to have to let me in more. That means knowing that you can talk to me about whatever these other issues are."

"Fair enough," she echoed, shaking her head petulantly at him. "Yes, I have nightmares sometimes. When I first wake up, sometimes I have trouble remembering that I'm not…where it is that my dreams tell me I am."

"Litchfield?" he asked. She blanched slightly, but nodded.

"Among other places. You forget that my life wasn't sunshine and roses before I got locked up. I never had nightmares before, though. That only started happening after…" She trailed off, waving her hand in the air as if he was supposed to gather her meaning from the gesture.

"After what?" Healy asked.

"After Vee almost slocked me to death," she finished, staring down at the table as if it had been the one to perpetrate the assault.

He nodded in understanding, and then reached across the table to take her hand. She didn't respond to the gesture, but she didn't pull away, either.

"Is it mostly her you dream about?" he asked.

"Mostly," Red replied, "Usually, in my dreams, I re-live that attack, or the time that she assaulted me before. And then sometimes it's…"

"What?"

"Nothing," Red said, getting up and dumping the rest of her tea down the sink, "Nothing that I'm ready to talk about just yet, anyway." She turned around and walked towards the hallway.

"I'm going back to bed," she announced, "But stay here and finish your tea if you want."

"No." Healy stood up and walked toward the sink, emptying his own mug, "I'll come with you."

She nodded and led the way, turning off the kitchen light as she went. After Red had gone to her dresser and slipped on a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt to sleep in, they both slid into bed and lay in silence. As he was beginning to drift off, Healy was surprised to feel Red's body against the front of him. He welcomed her into his arms and held her close, pleased that, at the very least, he could make her feel safe while she slept.