12. Bleeding Hearts

Taking in the gum-cracking inmate lounging casually on the chair opposite her, the counsellor tried to stay cool under that shrewd, almost insolent stare. The cheeky little glint in the eyes that never strayed from her seemed almost suggestive, unsettlingly so. At least until the chair tilted back precariously on two legs and she was shot a slightly less predatory grin than before.

"Hey, Miss Ford, I will say this – chicks dig scars."

"Well, I guess it's good to know I might have options," Dallas replied, trying to call her bluff.

But that only widened the smile opposite as Nicky Nichols leaned forward eagerly in her seat. "Yeah? You thought about batting for my team, doc?"

"I'm not a doctor, Nicky. I'm just here to-"

"Inspire fantasies and dodge my questions."

"These sessions aren't supposed to be about me."

"No? Aren't you supposed to, like, build a bond with your patient?"

Dallas sighed to herself. Everything that came out of the wild-haired inmate's mouth managed to sound dirty. It was almost impressive. She didn't bother telling her that though. It would probably only encourage her.

Of course, it didn't really help matters that she was sat there feeling pretty self-conscious already, in her gym sweats and with a bandage on her face. Not that she was too bothered about what she looked like. It was more the message it inadvertently sent out – confirming that, yes, she'd already gotten in an altercation with a prisoner and come off worst. She wasn't here to make some kind of point or to play at being a hard-ass, but she knew she'd never get anywhere with these women if they thought she was weak or an easy target.

"Yo, I ain't trying to get under your skin," Nicky backtracked, seeming to sense that she was pushing buttons and not in a way that was going to get her anywhere. "I just … I ain't got a lot of time for this bleeding heart bullshit, you know? Sorry."

Dallas processed that and relaxed a little into her seat. Okay, good old-fashioned scepticism. That she could work with. "You don't think it's good to … just get stuff off your chest? Vent a little? That's really all this is, Nicky – a chance to talk over anything that might be on your mind, with someone who can hopefully help you process it in a way that's less self-destructive than letting it build up inside. Or than some other outlets you might find."

"You think I could just talk myself out of heroin addiction? Gee, I wish I'd thought of that sooner," Nicky drawled, a smile on her lips even as her voice dripped with cynicism.

"That's not what I'm saying. But could it help? Yes, I think so."

"Hey, why am I even on your radar, Miss Ford?" came the sudden suspicious question. "I heard on the grapevine your services here are pretty limited. How'd I get lucky in the loony lottery? I ain't saying I exactly got my shit perfectly together, but even I know I ain't the worst off in this joint.

"Does it really matter?"

"If this was my interfering mother and her money, then yeah, it fucking matters."

"Well, it wasn't. There hasn't been any outside input, even from inmates' families. All the assessments were made based on your records, any concerns officers may have …"

"Is Lorna Morello on your list?"

"I can't discuss other people with you, Nicky. I'm sure you understand that. Just like nothing you say will leave this room, unless I feel there's a risk to you or someone else."

"I don't give a rat's ass about that. Tell whoever you like. But you gotta have Lorna on your list. Take me off if you ain't got enough time."

Eying the other woman for a long moment, trying to work out the best way to get her to open up, Dallas jotted down the name she was being given and drew a question mark beside it. "Why, if you don't feel confident about these sessions having any value, is it so important to you that this Lorna comes to see me?"

Nicky seemed to chew that over for a moment, obviously caught and struggling for the right thing to say. "Lorna likes to talk," she finally shrugged. "And she's got a lotta shit going on in that pretty little head. Might help her … sift through it."

"But not you?"

"Listen, I'm pretty self-aware. I may not have all my vices completely under control, but I know what they are and where they come from," Nicky said. "So, in the grand scheme of things, I think that shuffles me down the list in terms of urgency when it comes to some kind of intervention. Right now, there's nothing to intervene on. Scout's honour."

"So you're saying you're clean right now, but is that you acknowledging you might find it difficult to stay that way?" Dallas pushed gently.

"No flies on you, doc."

"I'm not a-"

"Yeah, yeah. What can I say? The thought of you with a white coat and a stethoscope appeals to me."

Inappropriate or not, Dallas could only look at the inmate opposite, as she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and laugh. "You're persistent," she sighed. "I'll give you that."

"Let me know when it starts working," Nicky grinned, settling back in her chair. "Now, where were we?"


By the end of the day, Dallas had been shamelessly and almost relentlessly hit on by Nicky, sworn at vehemently by Maria Ruiz while trying to talk about how she was coping with being parted from her baby daughter, and given the silent treatment by Brook Soso.

The latter had proven by far the most troubling, with the petite young woman's unspoken grief weighing heavily on her shoulders, seeming to fill the whole room. Dallas had tried over and over again to get her to open up, but nothing had gotten through her defences. She just sat there, looking blank. Numb. Word was she had remained like that almost the entire time between being lifted and carried bodily out of Litchfield and being returned once the dust had settled, so to speak.

The counsellor couldn't really say she was surprised, all things considered, but she was worried.

But after a day of battling the system, dealing with Fig's scathing response to finding out it had taken a matter of hours for her newest employee to apparently cause more trouble than the warden felt she was worth, Dallas was too emotionally drained herself to be much use to anyone else.

Plus the painkillers were wearing off to leave her cheek and wrist throbbing again, and she couldn't resist taking a moment to just sprawl out on her own couch, too tired to summon even the strength to go home.

Only a knock at the office door made her crack an eye, praying it wasn't Fig checking up on her again.

"Hey. Saw your car still in the lot. Most of the day shift already scarpered, so I figured someone should check you were okay," Luschek said, leaning a shoulder against the door frame. "You … okay?"

"I've had better days," Dallas confessed. "Jesus, is it always this tough around here?"

"Here? The place that's hired you because it's already traumatised so many people? Nah, piece of piss," he shrugged, making her half laugh, half groan and tilt her head back against the cushions wearily. "Offer still stands, you know. I can drive you home. I mean, if you want."

She didn't want to put him to any trouble, but she couldn't deny it was a tempting offer - although she was distracted from quickly mulling it over by the beep of her cell phone, giving him the universal one minute signal as she reached for it to read the incoming text message.

Coming round after work. We NEED to talk. R x

God, that was all she needed. Although part of her was surprised to get any prior warning at all. She just couldn't face the thought of another confrontation though. Not today.

"Hey, Joel?" Dallas said suddenly, deleting the message. "That offer of a drink still open?"

He looked thrown by that, like it was the last thing he was expecting her to ask, but he tried to shake it off. "Uh, yeah, I guess. You sure that's a good idea though?"

"After the day I've had, trust me, it's a great idea. Although I'm guessing somewhere with a pretty relaxed dress code might be best, 'cause this is the only outfit I've got right now that's not covered in bloodstains …"

"Well, in that case …" Luschek grinned.


"Hey, I'm just saying, I can see why Luschek's got a hard-on for the broad," Nicky chuckled, filling Lorna in on her first counselling session as she sat on her bunk with her back against the wall and the brunette's head in her lap, her fingers trailing absently through those silky dark curls.

"Because he's scared of her?" Lorna said wryly, recalling their experiences of seeing more of the guard than they'd bargained for during the riot.

"Yeah, right – scared she's out of his league maybe," Nicky scoffed. "Which she obviously is. But seriously though, it … y'know, it wasn't awful. Ford knows her shit."

With a little frown on her face, Lorna shifted to look up at her curiously. "It took me and Red months to convince you to even give AA a chance."

"So?"

"So now you're all on board with counselling? Sounds like Officer Luschek isn't the only one with a hard-on, if you ask me."

"I'm just saying, don't knock it until you've tried it. And maybe you should. Y'know, try it."

Lorna sat up at that, her brows knitted in a way that Nicky had come to learn meant nothing good. "You think I need counselling?"

"You think anyone in this shithole doesn't?" Nicky shot back, trying to keep it light. "Look around, Lorn – we ain't none of us exactly an advert for people with their shit together."

"You think I need counselling?" Lorna repeated, as if she hadn't even heard her. "Why? Because I'm so crazy? That's it, isn't it? Lorna Loco, just like the rest of those bitches say. I thought you understood, Nicky."

"Whoa, wait a minute. Lorna, fucking slow down here. Look, you're making this into some big deal when it ain't, kid ..."

But the little Italian, who could be plenty fiery when she wanted, was already off the bed and pacing the floor of the cramped cube. "You keep telling me I can do this. That I'm strong and blah blah blah. But all the time, you think it too – you think I'm crazy! That I need help. Oh, there's Lorna and her whole mess of crazy and now she's having a baby … Better fix her. Is that what you think, huh? That I need to be fixed?"

"Because the overreacting is totally in control behaviour …" Nicky muttered below her breath, quickly regretting it when those big brown eyes filled with tears. "Aw, shit. Lorna …"

"No, don't you Lorna me. Just … Just leave me alone!" she cried, storming off and leaving Nicky wiping her hands over her face wearily.

So much for helping.


"Uh, are you sure we should be going this way? I only ask because getting stabbed in the face once in the day seems plenty …"

"Trust me," Luschek said, leading the way down another secluded alleyway as Dallas stuck close, still in her sweatpants and a hoodie and with her strapped wrist cradled against her chest. "This place might be a bit … rough and ready, but it'll surprise you. Best buffalo wings in the state too."

"If you say so," the counsellor said, not sounding overly convinced.

But, letting him finally lead her down a set of steps, past a bouncer who simply nodded at them in gruff greeting, and through a heavy wooden door, she couldn't help smiling at the sight in front of her.

The little bar was a dive, but cosy with it, lit by the warm glow of dozens of tiny mismatching lamps. There were a few snug booths down one side, but most of the patrons were either perched on stools along the bar, huddled around the couple of pool tables, or packed onto what passed for a filthy dancefloor in front of a long-haired band in denim and leather belting out covers of classic rock songs.

"Okay, how did I not know this place was here?" Dallas demanded, looking like she was trying to take everything in at once.

"So you're cool with sticking around?" Luschek asked, glad she seemed to like it. "You're not vegetarian or some shit, are you? 'Cause in this place, you'll probably starve to death …"

"Are you kidding? Right now, I could kill someone with a pool cue just for a burger."

"It shouldn't come to that, but good to know," he grinned back, already more convinced than ever that she might just be the perfect woman.

If only that didn't seem like such a sure-fire pathway to disappointment ...


To be continued ...