Author's Note: So, I agonized over how I was going to end this thing. Like, I literally had no clue. Then I watched Riding in Cars with Boys for the first time in, like, years, and the last couple of scenes made me think, "Huh. How meta would it be to have Piper write a book?" And I knew I wanted to show Red and Healy in Red's shop and include a family element and have an excuse to talk about all the other big characters from the show, too. And, thus, this chapter was born. Enjoy, and thanks for reading!
Learning to Fly
Piper pulled her car into the small gravel parking lot, looking up at the quaint little Victorian-style house with red shutters and a red-painted front door. The only thing to distinguish the place as anything other than a residential building was an "Open" sign hanging on the door, and the painted windows advertising coffee and pastries in both English and Russian. She figured, from the Cyrillic characters on a few of the windows, that she had the right place; still, she pulled the paper out of her glove compartment and took another look at it, comparing the hastily-scribbled numbers with those on the mailbox. She wanted to make extra sure that her GPS had, in fact, taken her where she needed to go.
Of all of the people she had looked for in the past few months, Red had been one of the hardest to track down. Her former prison roommate/enemy/friend/mentor seemed to have fallen off the map once she got out. Piper supposed that was natural enough; Red had been involved in mafia business, so it made sense that she would want to lay low. Anyway, Piper thought wryly, if she was still with Healy, they would, of course, want to be somewhere out of the way. A relationship between an officer and a former inmate, while technically not illegal once the inmate was released, would have been frowned upon, especially if Healy was still working at Litchfield.
Piper wouldn't have even known where to start the search for Red if she hadn't reluctantly visited Nicky at the prison. She had been hesitant to go back there, but she really did need the information that Nicholls could give her. Besides, it was nice to see Nicky again, and to learn that she had scarcely six months left on her sentence. She also, of course, knew where Red was, and had given Piper the address, after saying, "Hey, Chapman, do me a favor though. Just don't tell Ma it was me who gave it to ya." There was no way to tell how Red would react to having a reminder of her prison days showing up on her doorstep.
With that in mind, Piper hesitantly climbed the steps onto the porch of the small house. She hesitated at the front door, but then, steeling her nerves, she grabbed the doorknob and opened it. The first thing she noticed when she entered the shop was the smell. It was…divine, good coffee mingled with sugar sweetness and the scent of baking bread. So delicious and wonderful; Piper kind of wanted to live in this place so she could smell that aroma forever.
She looked around the shop at the tables, seeing a gaggle of old ladies huddled at a corner table, talking over pastries, and a college-aged kid sitting on his own with his laptop and an accumulation of coffee cups around him. When she looked at the only other occupied table in the place, Piper almost gasped at what she saw. There sat Healy, dressed casually in jeans and a plaid button-down shirt, with a little, red-haired girl in the chair next to him. The child was bent over a book, and she was reading aloud, while Healy listened. Occasionally, the little girl would trip over a big word, and Healy would either correct her or prompt her to sound it out.
"Mr. Healy?" Piper said, surprised. Healy turned around at the familiar voice, and stared at Chapman as though she had two heads.
"Chapman? What the hell are you doing here?" he asked. The little girl clapped her hand over her mouth, as was her wont when an adult used "bad" language in front of her.
"I…umm…I actually came to see Red."
"Who came to see me?" a familiar voice called out from the kitchen. Piper turned to see that Red had appeared behind the pastry case, and was looking at her in much the same way Healy had just a moment ago. This time, though, Piper was also shocked. The woman in front of her was undoubtedly Red; her hair was still vibrantly orange and she even wore the trademark lipstick, but everything else had changed. This version of Red, the real-world version, had light makeup and shoulder-length hair pulled away from her face by a black headband, and wore a simple apron over an oversized white button-down shirt and black leggings.
"Yebat," she said, looking the younger woman up and down, apparently just as surprised by real-world Chapman as Piper was by her, "How in the hell did you find me?"
"With a lot of difficulty, actually. You're a hard woman to track down, Red."
"That's by design," the Russian woman replied. Piper half expected Red to grab a broom and chase her from the shop but, instead, she gestured to the table where Healy was. "Sit down," Red invited her, "Do you want some coffee? I also have plenty of pastries. You could finally taste my vatrushkis for real, Kibun." Piper couldn't help but smile at the subtle dig.
"Yes to both," she replied, seating herself next to Healy, who was still looking at her warily. The little girl had wandered off, seating herself at another table with the phone that she had stolen from Healy, to which her attention was riveted. Red came to the table, placing the cup and plate in front of Piper, along with creamer and sugar for the coffee.
"Six-fifty," Red said.
"What?" asked Piper, surprised. Healy snickered.
"Four for the pastry, two-fifty for the coffee."
"You can't even make an exception for an old friend?" Piper asked.
"Didn't you learn anything in Litchfield? Nothing will get you nothing in this world, Chapman," Red returned. Grumbling, Piper reached into her purse and handed the Russian woman seven dollars. Red took the money, tucked it into the pocket of her apron, then sat down next to Healy, directly across from Piper. Another stray glance at Red, and Chapman took notice of the older woman's hands folded on top of the table. Her left one was adorned with a simple but pretty gold diamond ring and a wedding band, which almost exactly matched the single band on Healy's hand. Piper smiled knowingly; at least one of her questions had been answered without her having to say a word.
"So, Chapman, what brings you out here?" Healy asked. Piper was about to give him an answer, but was cut off by Red suddenly calling out to the little girl, who had begun to skip and weave around the tables, to the amusement of the old ladies and the annoyance of the college student.
"Yekaterina Maximova!" Red said severely, stopping the child in her tracks.
Despite the girl's obvious fear of punishment, she put her hands on her hips, stood her ground, and replied, "It's Katie, Babulya! Everyone calls me Katie!"
"When you run around my shop like a little hurricane, I call you 'accident waiting to happen.' Now come sit down here and finish your book."
Healy had to smile at that. Galina's favorite grandchild (and the one who was most like her, God help them all) was, undoubtedly, the only person in the universe who could speak to her like that without having all hell rained down upon them. The girl did as she was told and, when she was comfortably sat at her grandmother's side, Red turned back to Piper.
"So, anyway, why did you come looking for me?" she asked, turning her attention to the young woman in front of her, "I'll be honest, Chapman, I never thought I'd see you again after Litchfield."
"Yeah, it took a while before I was…I don't know…ready to see or speak to anyone from there. Except Alex, of course. But she's different. She's always been…different." Piper turned to Healy, wondering if he would blanch at the mere insinuation of "lesbian activity," as he always had in the past. Surprisingly, the look on his face was impassive as he nodded and then took a sip of his coffee. Well, I'll be damned; Red's done the impossible and turned him into a decent human being, Piper thought.
"Anyway, I've actually been tracking down a lot of the people who were in with us. I found Soso. She and Poussey are still together, and Taystee's living with them, so I got three for the price of one," Piper said. Red scoffed.
"And what are you doing looking for everyone?" she asked, "Are you planning some kind of fu—" Red caught herself just in time, glancing down at her oblivious granddaughter, "Messed up little reunion?"
"No, I'm actually…I'm trying to write a book," Piper replied.
"A book? About Litchfield? Why would you want to do that?" Red asked. Piper shrugged.
"I can't even explain it myself. Alex thinks I'm crazy, too. But it's just…I don't know…I feel like it's something I have to do. Like, the idea came to me about six months ago, and I can't get it out of my head. Coping mechanism, I guess. I've been running around trying to find people who were there while I was there, getting perspectives other than mine on some of the things that happened, trying to job my memory."
Red sat back in her chair. "And you want to talk to me?" she asked. Piper nodded.
"You and Mr. Healy," she replied. She hadn't originally cared to talk to Healy, but he was here, he would feel left out if she asked Red and not him and, besides, maybe her book could benefit from an officer's perspective as well.
The couple exchanged a glance, and Piper almost found it heartwarming, the way that they seemed to communicate wordlessly. Almost, because she still couldn't get over the oddness of the pairing.
"What would you be talking to us about?" Healy asked.
"Just various things," Piper replied, "I'm not going to lie, some of them may not be pleasant things. But I obviously can't force you to tell me anything you wouldn't be comfortable with me writing about. I can even leave out your real names and just use nicknames when I talk about either or both of you. And of course I would credit you both in the acknowledgments. I don't want to expose anyone or make anyone uncomfortable, and I don't want to take advantage of anyone. I just want to tell my story, and the story of Litchfield."
Healy seemed skeptical, unsure, but Red simply nodded. She better understood Piper's motivations. She never would have written a book about her prison experiences, but she could understand the need to do something to deal with the memories. For her, it was keeping herself busy, with the shop, with her sons and grandchildren, with Healy—anything so that she was never alone or unoccupied for long enough to start dwelling.
"We'll think about it," Red promised. Healy looked at her, a bit surprised that she hadn't simply stood up and yelled at Piper to get out of her shop—he couldn't understand why she seemed so comfortable with the younger woman's crazy proposition. Red turned to him, saw the disapproval in his eyes and the protest rising on his lips, and shut it down with a severe look.
"We'll talk," he echoed Red grudgingly, "And we'll get back to you when we've made a decision."
"Great!" Piper exclaimed.
"Don't get too excited," Red warned, "That's far from a 'yes.'"
"Of course," the younger woman said. Still, she felt…relieved. A "maybe" was a lot farther than she had expected to get with Red.
"I did have one other thing I wanted to ask. This is a question for Mr. Healy, really," Piper said, after a long pause during which the old ladies' chatter and the clicking of the college student's fingers on his keyboard were the only noises in the shop.
Healy's coffee cup froze midway to his mouth, but he put it down and asked, "And what's that?"
"I wanted to know if you still kept tabs on Pennsatucky. I spoke with Nicky the last time I visited Litchfield, and she said Penn got out a few months ago. I want to talk to her, too, but I don't have the first clue how to find her."
"Oh," Healy said, "Doggett's shift starts in about half an hour."
"What?!" Piper exclaimed, looking to Red, who rolled her eyes.
"He talked me into hiring her," said the Russian woman, pointing accusingly at Healy, "She had this sob story about not being able to find a job, and for some reason Healy still has a soft spot for her, so I caved. At least I'm building up my good karma. In case there really is a God, I mean."
Red would never admit it, but she had needed very little convincing from Healy to hire Pennsatucky. The girl had never been Red's favorite person, but her troubles with finding work after getting out were real enough, and she came to Red and Healy genuinely needing some kind of support. Red could relate; if she hadn't had her sons' generosity and Sam to take care of her when she was released, she couldn't guarantee that she would have been all right. Anyway, Doggett turned out to be a good investment; she worked hard, didn't piss off the customers too much, and had generally just chilled out more since she had first arrived in prison.
"Jeez, Red; do you give everyone a job after they get released?" Piper asked, "If I went in the kitchen, would Morello and Norma be back there baking cookies?"
Red had to chuckle at that. "Lorna lives in Jersey with her husband now, and Norma's still locked up. She probably won't be getting out any time soon, if ever." But if she does, Red thought, she'll always have a place in my kitchen with me. But that was where Red drew the line. Well, Nicky, too, but Nicky was her daughter.
After a few more minutes of light conversation, Piper finished her pastry and made an excuse to leave. Red had customers walking through the door, Katie could no longer sit still in her chair, and Piper could tell that Healy was uncomfortable in her presence. Her welcome was well and truly worn out, and it was time for her to get back on the road and go home to Alex.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Healy stepped onto the patio, two steaming mugs of tea in his hand. He had fallen asleep on the couch after dinner, exhausted from taking care of Katie all day. He loved Red's granddaughter. She had been a fixture at their house or the pastry shop since she was a baby, because Red and Healy watched her while her parents were working. The role of grandfather was one that Healy had never thought he'd ever have a chance to play, and he enjoyed it immensely, but keeping up with an energetic four-year-old was hard work. That day, in particular, Red's business had been booming, so Katie had mostly been his responsibility, and he was wiped out. The visit from Chapman, of course, had done nothing to uplift him.
Red was sitting outside, on the porch swing that she'd insisted on having installed in their yard shortly after she had officially moved in. With one foot on the ground, she swung herself lazily back and forth, clutching a blanket around her for protection from the autumn chill and occasionally glancing down at the book in her hand, although it was obvious to Healy that she was miles away.
"What are you thinking about?" Healy asked, sitting next to his wife and handing her one of the mugs.
"The same thing you are, I imagine," Red replied. She took her mug and then moved closer to him, lifting the blanket and throwing part of it over him. He took her into his arms easily, with all the familiarity that five years together brought, and her head naturally came to rest on his shoulder.
"Are you seriously considering Chapman's proposal?" he asked.
"Of course I am," she replied, looking up at him and silencing the anticipated protest with a sharp look, "I don't know how I feel about it, much less if I'm going to say yes, but I'd be doing her a disservice if I didn't at least consider it."
Healy snorted. "Why does that matter? We don't owe Chapman anything."
"Don't we?" Red asked, "Have you forgotten that she knew about us? She could have turned us in, ruined us both, but she sat on our secret for two years until she got out. We owe her our happiness."
Healy considered this. Red was right. He knew it and he hated it.
"Anyway, we both did some pretty horrible shit to her in Litchfield. You put her in solitary for no good reason and I tried to feed her my menstrual blood, for fuck's sake." Red shook her head. Now, years later, away from the toxic environment of the prison and having finally adjusted to being a human being again, she felt nothing but disgust for what she had done to Chapman so long ago, for who she had been at that point in her life.
"That place…it drives you crazy. No matter who you are, it strips away all the good in you and makes you the monster that society thinks you are. You know that, Sam; that's why you took early retirement," Red continued.
Healy considered this. It was true. He had tried to justify it by saying that he couldn't be married to Red and work at the place where she had been incarcerated. He had chosen her over his career, as it were, and he still maintained that this was mostly the reason for his leaving. But he also knew that it hadn't just been her, or their relationship. The simple fact of the matter was that he was tired of it. He got into prison counseling because he thought he could help people. He had helped a few of the inmates in his charge, but not nearly as much as he wanted to. And now, looking back at the way that Litchfield had twisted and disillusioned him, he wasn't convinced that he hadn't done more harm than good as a counselor. This was part of the reason that the thought of talking to Chapman about Litchfield, being featured in a book about the place, even if only under a code name, made him so uneasy.
He nodded, kissing the top of Red's head and then running his fingers through her hair, reflecting on how pretty she looked with it longer, how much he loved it.
"You're right," he said, "We were both fucked up. And we do kind of owe Chapman. I guess it wouldn't kill me to at least think about it."
Red nodded. "Just think about it. And we can talk about it more. But now," she said, tossing the blanket away and rising, "I'm ready to go to bed. Come with me?"
Healy stood as well, grabbing the blanket and her book. Before she reached the patio door, he stopped her, pulling her into his embrace and leaning down to kiss her. She let out a mock groan, just as she always did when he kissed her at odd moments and she felt like being playful. Red made a show of trying to escape from him, prompting Healy to bring her closer and kiss her more forcefully.
As he followed her inside, past the living room and towards their bedroom, Healy reflected on how lucky he had gotten. Six years ago, he hadn't even remotely deserved Red's love, but she gave it to him anyway. In many ways, she had allowed him to fulfill his dream of actually making a difference in someone's life, while also being helped—and even saved—himself. She was right; there were so many reasons to hate Litchfield, and he did, with a passion, but he also had to be grateful for the prison as well. As bittersweet as it was, Litchfield had brought them to each other.