A/N- Hey everyone. Welcome back to the Batman AU collaboration written with reverse-swing. Sorry for the slight delay in getting this one out. Life is life and sometimes it goes and gets in the way of writing (inconsiderate of it, I know). Anyway, here's chapter 2. Enjoy! (this one is all flashback, thus the italics)

...

On nights like this, Gotham is her balm. Soothing her from something she can't quite fathom, easing a raw pain that she doesn't remember being without. Because she can melt into shadows, embrace them like a second skin. And acid rain can cleanse her: almost.

But it's all temporary.

And she's not even sure what she's running away from (or maybe towards?) only that most days, it sits heavy on her chest, slowly sucking the life out of her. But Fahri says she's different. He tells her to think big. And those brown eyes wouldn't lie (a voice in her head screams something else, but she's accustomed to dulling it down so it's nothing more than a gentle hum).

"You're going places Vause" he says one night, half chuckling, regarding her closely over the rim of a whisky tumbler. Alex doesn't meet his gaze. When his voice is honey sweet, like it is now, the edges of his words almost a blur, she knows he can be especially dangerous. So she lets the silence blanket them for awhile, bass from the bar above gently vibrating the ashtray on the desktop.

He lights a cigarette, offers her one. She shakes her head, for some reason the thought is making her feel a little nauseous, she needs some air and more than likely some food. Her last square meal feels as if it was days ago. So she makes her excuses to leave.

"Wait" Fahri insists, sliding a desk drawer open. He retrieves a brown paper packet (fatter than last time) and tosses it at her. She catches it clumsily, almost allowing the contents to spill onto the floor and it's precious cargo, so she grabs at it hungrily.

"Happy payday" he grins.

Her response is more of a grimace than a smile, because she knows this isn't kosher, nothing about it is. But what was school ever going to do for her anyway? Most days she can barely muster the energy to make it in and when she does, her mind is already wandering back to the cool night air of Gotham, the sidewalks glinting with a fresh rain. And the good folk of the neighboring town never seem to tire of telling her it's a depraved and rat infested kind of hell. But these streets are the thing that Alex likes best, because here, there is no pretense, just Gotham and guts and glory.

Somehow, everything is still up for grabs.

"You like playing with fire huh, Stretch?" Nichols says, sliding a plate of Russian pastries in front of the brunette.

Alex takes another sip of the bitter black tea that Red insists is replenishing and shrugs.

"Effusive. But you know, if Red sees you, she'll…."

"She'll what?" Alex says, pushing the plate away, vivid green eyes flashing with a reckless sort of bravado. She knows the rules, anyone that works for Fahri is not welcome in a Reznikov establishment. But tonight, Alex is feeling even less like she could give a fuck.

There's a guttural murmur of thunder, closely followed by a fractured snap of lightning, it briefly illuminates the murky bar area and for a second, Alex swears she's spotted something…someone. She toys with the idea of investigating further, but suddenly a hand is clamped to her shoulder and from the expression on Nichols's face, she can guess who it is.

Red.

"New perfume?" Alex says grinning, not bothering to turn around. "It's nice..." She makes an exaggerated sniffing sound, "kinda like care home chic"

Nicky's hand flies to her own mouth, as if doing so will trap the laughter that's bubbling up from the pit of her belly, but it spills out all the same. The lines on Red's face harden, her grip on Alex's shoulder failing to loosen.

"Witty, let's see how many wise cracks you can make once Vasily and his friends get hold of you..."

Suddenly Nichols is silent, but Alex isn't in the mood to concede, not tonight.

"Hm…maybe…just they seem a little preoccupied with other things." She nods towards Andrei, the biggest of Vasily's 'crew'. He's sat at the bar, busy staring at a replay of some hockey game on the TV behind the counter, only taking brief pauses to cram fistfuls of pirozhki into his mouth. "Quite the trained killer you got there," she continues.

Red's hand drops to her side, a deep sigh punctuating the end of Alex's sentence. "Just go home, Vause."

Alex slides out of the booth, "Absolutely, ma'am". She finishes with a mock salute, as Nichols' eyes widen in disbelief.

Red however is unmoved, "Don't let me see you around here again or…"

"Pfft…whatever," Alex replies turning towards the exit.

"You're not as invincible as you think," Red shouts after her.

Alex hopes that she's right.

She's four blocks towards nowhere, hand fixed around the wad of notes in her jacket pocket, but tonight even the comfort of that can't calm her, the cool droplets of rain ricocheting off her skin won't soothe her, so she drags herself into an alleyway, sodden and strangely breathless as she attempts to light a cigarette, the flare from the flame illuminating a figure crouched over on the floor.

The surprise is such that she drops her cigarette to the ground and a raspy "fuck" involuntarily escapes her lips before she's properly been able to evaluate the danger of the situation. So she recoils a little, right hand now firmly clenched into a fist and she can make out enough in the shadows to realize the figure is scrambling to its feet, a light groan announcing it's a woman. Alex's chest relaxes a little at the revelation, although this in itself shouldn't mean she's automatically safe, not in a place like Gotham. But it affords her a small amount of courage, now that she at least knows it's not Vasily or one of his goons.

"You ok?" she offers, shakily, into the murkiness beyond, watching a cloud of mist form from her lips and then curl up and dissipate into the gloom of the night.

Silence.

She licks her lips, swallows hard, tries again. "You ok?"

"You got another cigarette?" the voice finally replies. There's something pure about it, almost melodic and Alex doesn't know why, but suddenly her heart is hammering.

"Sure," she replies, hand scrabbling around in the inside pocket of her coat. She pulls out the pack of cigarettes as the woman shuffles her way towards the brunette. But every inch of Alex is still coiled a little tighter than it should be (the instinct of any child of Gotham) and it remains that way until the flame of her lighter reveals the identity of the stranger; Piper Chapman.

The blue of her eyes (crazy fucking blue, she'll later tell Nichols) fail to elicit any discernible warmth and she's standing, slightly hunched over, cradling her right hand. It takes a few seconds before Alex realizes it's bleeding, split at the knuckles, wounds pulsating with fury. "Shit," she murmurs, almost dropping the second cigarette of the night.

"You're not very good at that are you?" Piper Chapman replies and Alex can hear the smile in her words, the slight quiver of a laugh, before she's even looked up to face her again. And suddenly her eyes are more inviting, familiar even.

"Well?" she continues.

"Well what?" Alex replies, still distracted by the easy way the blonde's words seemed to melt into a warm chuckle.

"Well who's gonna win the next mayoral election?!"

"Huh?"

"Are you going to light this goddamn cigarette or not?" she says, still half smirking.

"Oh shit, sure" Alex replies, hurriedly doing so.

She takes a couple of deep drags before handing the cigarette to Alex who does the same and they stand like that for a few moments, oblivious to the solid pitter- patter of the rain and the fact that the cold is gradually seeping through to their bones.

Piper flexes her hand, grimaces a little and tosses the cigarette butt behind her.

"You should get that looked at," Alex says.

Piper doesn't reply.

"It could get infected," she continues.

And the silence lingers on, but Alex doesn't want the night to end like this, doesn't want Piper to disappear into the darkness, maybe forever, who knows. So she pulls out the quart of Vodka she'd been saving to drink on a grassy bank, hidden away behind the parking lot of Wal-Mart. She holds it up like a trophy. "You game?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. She's met with a toothy grin.

So they half sprint, half walk to the spot where Alex has whiled away so many nights that she's lost count and position themselves at the best focal point they can find, one that affords them the best vista of the sprawling metropolis.

"Wow," Piper murmurs, starting out at the city beyond, lights sparkling like jewels on the horizon. "It's sorta beautiful"

"Shame it's Gotham, huh?" Alex replies, before taking a long pull on the bottle and handing it to Piper, grateful that the rain has eased off. She notes that the girl's hand is still bleeding, but decides against pressing the matter again, for now at least.

"You come here a lot?" Piper replies. She takes a deep sip of the liquor, her face scrunching up in disgust. Alex guesses she's used to stealing higher end hooch, surreptitiously of course, from her parents' liquor cabinet. But her expression lends her an innocence that makes her look her age. It's nice in a strange sort of way, but Alex isn't sure why.

"Now and then"

"By yourself?"

"Mainly, yeah"

Piper takes another pull on the vodka before handing it back.

"So you gonna tell me how you did that?" Alex says, nodding towards the blonde's injury.

"No….maybe...depends how drunk you can get me..." And there's that laugh again, and that warm fluttering in the pit of Alex's stomach. She ignores it for now.

"What makes you think I'm trying to get you drunk?"

"I didn't say you were trying."

And they remain that way for a little while, holding each others' gaze, the distant sirens of Gotham giving way to something else, until finally Piper concedes that her hand is feeling pretty damn painful.

"We'd better get the hospital to check it out," Alex says, scrambling up to her feet and running a hand over the now damp seat of her jeans.

"No!" Piper replies, snapping.

Alex's head jerks back at the fervency of her reaction.

"I'm sorry…it's just that my…um…my aunt is an ER nurse at Gotham Hospital Center and I don't want her to worry…"

"Okay," Alex says flatly. It's obviously a lie, but she figures the reason for it must be decent, so she doesn't quiz Piper any further.

"I'll just go home, my parents sleep like the dead, so I can raid the first aid box, it'll be fine," but Alex doesn't look convinced.

"Listen, my house is just a few blocks away and Diane...my mom, she keeps the first aid cabinet pretty well stocked, plenty of burns and scrapes working at a diner, I can patch you up and send you on your way if you like? She's staying at a friends tonight." She gently lifts Piper's damaged hand, the blood around the main wounds is beginning to congeal into a sticky mess. "It probably looks worse than it is anyway."

It's only a couple of seconds before Piper agrees. Her gut is telling her that Alex Vause is good people. And good people are hard to come by in this place.

They're half way down the bank before Piper speaks again. "I punched a wall," she says, "that's how I did it".

Alex just nods in response. She doesn't know what has driven Piper to hurt herself in such a way, but more importantly than that she realizes, she doesn't need to.

"You're not so bad at this" Piper says examining her bandaged hand, perched on the edge of the couch in Alex's modest apartment. She doesn't allow her eyes to linger on the peeling wallpaper, or the damp patch in the corner of the ceiling, casually ignores the faint smell of blocked drainpipes that occasionally wafts through the open living room window. Because what does any of that matter anyway? Years living in Gotham have taught her that, if nothing else.

"One of my many talents, kid," Alex says handing her a strip of painkillers. "Pop a couple of these, should help ease the suffering, it's the good shit, prescription stuff my mom had when she slipped a disc in her back."

Piper does as she's told, washing them down with a generous gulp of yet more booze.

"You want me to walk you back home?" Alex offers, noting that it's almost 1am.

But Piper shakes her head, nestling down into the couch a little further, "Not for a few minutes okay?"

"Okay," Alex replies.

So they watch "Some like it Hot" and laugh louder than is strictly necessary, even at the bits that Alex doesn't usually find that funny, until eventually, they both drift into something akin to slumber. And for the first time in a long while, Alex Vause falls asleep with a smile on her lips and a strange sort of warmth in her chest.

And it doesn't feel half bad.

Piper wakes with a start the next morning (recurrent dream, falling, flailing, crashing). It takes her a short while to register exactly where she is and that she's developed a crick in her neck from being squeezed into Alex Vause on the not so generously sized couch. She tries to wriggle free, so as not to disturb the brunette, but to no avail, as seconds later, Alex is rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Hey," she croaks, a hand pulling out her glasses from down the side of the couch, before placing them back on her face.

"Hey," Piper replies sitting upright.

"Sleep ok?"

"Not really, you?"

"Not really."

They laugh in unison and the sound reverberates around the room eerily, hollow and lacking any really purpose, other than to fill any possibility of an awkward silence. After all, neither of them expected to be here.

"Guess we can safely say that a lumpy old couch isn't conducive to a good night's sleep huh? How's the hand?"

Piper stares down at the heavily bandaged wound and shrugs, "Think I'll survive."

"Breakfast?" Alex offers

Piper's eyes immediately flick to the tiny stove in the corner of the room.

"Don't worry," Alex says, as if she's read her mind, "not here, there's a decent diner couple of blocks away, pancakes that literally melt in the mouth."

Piper knows she should go home, that right about now her mother will discover her bed, still made and no sign of her daughter. The thought of Carol's rising panic fills the blonde with delight, although she knows it shouldn't.

Fuck it.

"Sure," she smiles.

The wind is bitter cold as they make the short walk to the diner, icy fingers taking sharp nips at exposed flesh, making Piper immediately regret not grabbing a coat when she left her parents in an angry haze hours ago.

Cars whiz by, smattering them with last night's rainwater. "Jackass!" Alex yells at one particularly zealous SUV driver. By the time they arrive at the restaurant, teeth chattering, fingers numb, they greet the warmth like an embrace from an old friend and slide into a booth farthest away from the drafty entrance.

They each order a stack of pancakes (Piper's with blueberry syrup, Alex's with bacon). Alex likes the way Piper considers the menu so closely, long fingers lazily trailing each printed breakfast choice. "If you study for your exams like you do for your breakfast, you'll be golden," Alex teases.

Piper's cheeks immediately flush red, "There's nothing wrong with considering all options," she replies, her eyes locking with Alex's.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes."

"So what's the verdict?"

"Nice," she replies, her tongue rolling deliciously around the word, "Looks tempting"

And Alex is no longer sure she's talking about the menu (if she ever was) only that Piper Chapman might be the best thing she's ever laid eyes on.

They eat in a comfortable silence, each girl relaxing into the company of the other, prolonging each bite, stretching out the time a little farther, trying to make each second count. And Alex knows she's late for her meeting with Fahri (she'll take the heat later) and Piper is certain her mother will be sitting tight lipped and disappointed, glass of gin in hand (nothing new there).

And the world drifts around them, silently, an awkward sort of irrelevance.

Piper talks about SATs, about Smith, about things that her eyes betray don't really matter to her.

Alex talks about Nichols, about gigs she's managed to sneak into, about busting out of "this place".

And it's an odd sort of captivity they find themselves in, one that gives them a pleasant buzz, so much so that it's midday before they know it.

"Fuck," Piper mutters when she realizes, "I should get going before my mother sends out a search party"

"And what would that consist of?"

"Cal and Danny mainly….maybe my dad, if he's not occupied with business."

She says business like it's a dirty word and Alex guesses that in this instance, it probably is, because in a city as rotten as this, the men in suits have just as much blood on their hands as the likes of Fahri.

"Sending out the big guns then huh?" Alex grins.

"Something like that," her voice tails off as if she's lost in a train of thought and it's another couple of minutes before she speaks again. "Sorry, it's just my family...I'm never quite good enough for them I guess...well apart from Cal...he's more of a free spirit…well at least that's how he explained the joint that my mother found in his room the other day."

Alex laughs, takes a sip of coffee, watches as Piper folds and unfolds a paper napkin. "Well you know what they say?"

"What?" Piper says, head resting on her hand.

"You can't choose your family"

"Fuck them," she replies sitting up abruptly. "You wanna get high?"

"Piper Chapman," Alex says in mock disgust, but her smile is the only response Piper needs.

They're sitting, huddled together, backs pressed against a thick slab of gravestone. They pass the joint back and forth for a little while (Cal's contraband) ignoring the ferocity of the cold circling the graveyard, locked in a mellow sort of reverie.

"It's kinda sad to think we'll all end up here at some point don't you think?" Piper says, gently resting her head on Alex's shoulder. The contact immediately makes Alex bristle, but in a good way, the best way in fact and she only hopes that it's not obvious.

"Depends," she replies flatly

"On what?"

Alex takes a final drag, turns to fully face Piper. Her eyes are wide, resplendent against the unholy hell hole of the rest of the world, her lips slightly parted, a light sheen of moisture so delicately inviting and she has to control every inch of her being, because she's never felt a more overwhelming desire to kiss someone.

"Whether it's worth just surviving." The words leave her mouth in almost a whisper, as if saying it out loud will make it real, a sad indictment of her life so far. She shakes her head, as if she's physically trying to rid herself of the label….

You're different….

But Fahri's words aren't offering the comfort they sometimes do, not now…

"Is that what you're doing?" Piper replies, "Surviving?"

"Sometimes," Alex replies.

"Right now?"

Alex smiles, "No. Not right now." And that is a comfort, although she's got no idea why, after all, this girl is a relative stranger, or maybe she isn't…..

But it's 3pm and Piper insists she really had better leave, she has an assignment due first thing tomorrow morning. So there's no more time for evaluation, if that was even what she was doing.

Alex walks her to the bus stop and this time the silence isn't comfortable, it's thick with an odd sort of regret and longing and as Alex waves her off, beginning to feel the first signs of her buzz disappearing, she's thinking that not kissing Piper Chapman that afternoon is the biggest regret of the year so far. And in Alex's world, that really is saying something.

Carol is livid. Her lips are pulled thinner than usual, making her cheeks appear more hollow (if that was ever possible). Questions are fired at Piper, some expected (Who were you with? Why didn't you call? Don't you realize how much worry you've caused?). Others less so (did you notice anyone following you? have you seen you father since yesterday).

All are met with the same stony silence.

And there's that familiar pounding in her skull, the need for some sort of release, to be anywhere but here. And out of nowhere, Alex Vause's raspy laughter fills her brain, bringing with it a sort of palpable life, so much so that, before she realizes what she's doing, Carol is asking her what the hell she is grinning at.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," comes Piper's response, before she trudges up to her bedroom. But Alex is far from nothing, in fact, Piper Chapman has never quite met anyone like her before and she's as certain as she can be, that she never will again.

Monday through to Wednesday passes without much excitement. Polly has almost become unbearable as Pete has just asked her to "go steady" and Piper can't remember the last time they had a conversation without him being mentioned.

And yet still, Alex is punctuating her thoughts, but she tries not to dwell on this, even though her very name causes a strange fire to spread through her gut.

"Are you on something?" Polly asks one afternoon, pulling her into an empty classroom.

"What the fuck Poll?!"

"I'm sorry, it's just that you seem so spaced out lately, like you're on a different planet or something."

"I wish," Piper mutters in response.

"See what I mean?"

Piper rolls her eyes, "I'm fine, quit being so dramatic, haven't you got a Pete to tend to?"

"Funny."

"I thought so."

"Fine asshole, I'll leave you alone, but can you at least try to be a little less weird?"

Piper flips her the bird.

"I'm taking that as a yes," her friend replies, before exiting the room and making her way towards the lockers.

But in spite of her faults, Piper has to admit, her friend might have her point. But she has no idea what the solution is, only that meeting Alex Vause has left her in an odd sort of daze.

Thursday is different. Thursday is great. Because Alex turns up outside her school. She's smoking a cigarette, unabashed, seemingly unconcerned by the scathing looks that the likes of Jessica Wedge are shooting her and it makes Piper's heart leap straight to her throat when she first catches sight of the brunette. But she bites back the feeling as best as she can, re-adjusting the strap of the bag on her shoulder, pretending to find Polly's conversation far more interesting than it is (she's pretty sure she's still talking about Pete's new haircut).

"Hey," Alex says, greeting her as soon as Piper is outside the main gates.

"Hey."

Polly's eyes are darting from Alex to Piper and then back again with such speed that it actually makes Alex chuckle.

"Something funny?" Polly snaps, aware that the source of Alex's amusement is her.

"Something is…yeah" Alex replies smirking.

"Al, why don't I meet you outside the park at the bottom of the road in ten?" Piper offers, keen to avoid any conflict.

Alex's eyes flick to Piper, "Sure, see you shortly." She tosses the cigarette butt into the distance and saunters off towards the designated meeting place.

"Fucking asshole," Polly hisses "Who the hell was that?!"

"A friend."

"A friend?"

"Yes."

"Careful with that one," Polly says, clearly still smarting from the exchange, "she could be more than you bargained for."

Piper doesn't have the heart to tell her, she's banking on it.

...

A/N- Updates will hopefully be a bit more regular in the future. Thanks for sticking with us. We can be found here (reverse-swing and imissedyourpatronage) or on tumblr (where we're orthodoxspin and shallowbanana).