A/N: I just realized that I totally forgot to write an author's note on the first chapter, so I'm doing it now! I've wanted to write a story like this ever since I finished OITNB; I hate what happened to Nicky and Lorna in season seven, and I wanted the opportunity to explore their relationship and give them both the ending they deserved. This story will focus on several key scenes from canon but will eventually diverge.
Title is from "What I Need" by Hayley Kiyoko and Kehlani; I think it's a pretty good theme song for the Nichorello relationship. And it's just a great song period, so give it a listen if you haven't!
"So what should I do? All that's left is molecules of you."
Lorna is in her bunk, idly leafing through a book, when Red comes in, wild-eyed and panicky. For a second Lorna doesn't react—she's never seen Red like this, and she feels her heart skip a beat as her mind runs through the thousand horrible scenarios that could've brought her to this state. Red is always calm, always icy cold and collected. For tears to be pricking at the edges of her eyes like this… well, Lorna almost doesn't want to know what's happened.
They stare at each other for a long moment before Red rasps out, "Come quick. It's Nicky."
Lorna can feel her stomach drop. She almost doubles over, almost sinks back into her bunk, but Red is there at her side, taking her by the hand and pulling her up and out into the hall. She catches only snippets of what Red's saying—Luschek, heroin, transferred to Max—as they run frantically down the halls toward—what? Can they even catch Nicky in time?
And then they're wheeling around the corner and there she is, and Lorna throws herself at Nicky desperately, babbling, "Nicky! Baby"—the endearment slips out before she can stop herself, and she can't bring herself to take it back—"what's happening?"
"Stay back!" Donaldson snaps, and Lorna raises her hands in surrender, hovering as close as she can to Nicky without touching her. Her mouth forms silent words—what happened, what happened, what happened?—but she can't get them past her lips.
Somewhere far away, she can hear Red's and Nicky's voices, but they're drowned out by the sound of Lorna's heartbeat in her ears. Her vision is blurred with tears. She sees Nicky through them, standing tall despite everything with that same regal confidence Lorna has always admired. She's known for a long time that Nicky isn't as tough as she looks, but Nicky is doing a damn good job of pretending right now.
"You know you could have come to me if you were struggling," Red's saying, but Lorna's just clutching the back of Nicky's uniform desperately, as though if she holds on tight enough, she can prevent them from taking her away.
Lorna traces her fingers across the smooth ridges of the handcuffs encircling Nicky's wrists. The shock of the metal against her fingertips is jarring, and it only makes her tears come harder. She wraps her arm around Nicky's waist one last time—no, she can't let herself think like that. Lorna can't let herself believe she'll never see Nicky again, or else she doesn't know how she'll survive this place.
"I know," Nicky says, and for the first time, her voice cracks.
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because that's not what I do, okay?"
Donaldson starts marching Nicky down the hall again, and Lorna can feel her slip from her grasp.
"I love you," Nicky says, and Lorna's not sure if it's to Red or to her, but then Nicky is gone. She glances over her shoulder one last time, and then she's really, really gone and—
"I love you, too!" Lorna gasps out. She stands there with Red for a long moment before bolting. She can't let her just walk away—she has to see Nicky one last time, even if it's through the window. She barrels up the stairs and throws herself at it, hands banging into the glass, tears nearly obscuring her vision as she watches Nicky be marched into the van. Pennsatucky sits in the driver's seat; for a brief moment, Lorna wishes she still had her driving job. At least then they'd have a few more seconds, a few more minutes together. At least then Lorna could see her disappear into her new home, make sure she's alright, fantasize about stealing the van again and taking it down to Max and ramming it through the doors to set her beautiful, beloved Nicky free.
The van vanishes around a corner. Lorna sinks to the floor, back pressed up against the window, and sobs.
Lorna floats through the next few days in a haze. Gina takes care of her, makes sure she eats at meals; Alex and Piper offer fond stories of Nicky and words of support; Boo gets her up and out of her bunk on the mornings when all she wants to do is roll back over and cry herself to sleep again, rules be damned.
She doesn't even bother putting on makeup. At first she feels naked without it, but after a few hours she forgets it's even missing. There's a far greater hole in her life now. What's the point in making herself look pretty when everything around her is so ugly? She can't get through a single hour of the day without crying; there's no point in putting on mascara when she knows it'll be forming charcoal streaks down her face not twenty minutes later. Besides, there's no one left to be pretty for anymore.
Red tries to talk to her about it, to comfort her, but Lorna doesn't want to talk. She's filled with so many emotions—grief, rage, hopelessness—but mostly regret. Only now that Nicky's gone, now that it's too late, can she acknowledge her own feelings.
She struggles with it for a long time, tossing and turning in her bunk long after everyone else has fallen asleep. She pictures Nicky in her mind: crazy blonde-red hair; clumped mascara; bright, always-blinking eyes; full, soft lips; the necklace always hanging from around her neck; the way her arms always felt on those rare nights when she snuck into Lorna's bunk and just held her until she fell asleep.
Lorna tosses and turns and thinks, I'm straight, I've always been. She thinks, I'm in love with Christopher. He's my white knight, my Romeo, my Tony. And then she feels the warm tears splash down on her cheeks and remembers the night after she broke things off with Nicky. She remembers the way she'd imagined Nicky would look in a wedding dress, the inexplicable wish she'd felt to make that dream a reality. She remembers the jealousy she'd felt watching Nicky go after those other girls, even though Lorna knew she'd been the one to end their relationship. She thinks back on their first kiss, the first time they slept together, the day she'd sobbed in the stairwell and Nicky had held her and told her she loved her. She comes to an inescapable conclusion.
She's in love with Nicky Nichols. She always has been, and now that Nicky is gone, Lorna is finally sure of it.
It had been less than a month since Lorna had arrived, but so much had changed since she'd gotten to prison that she found sometimes she could scarcely remember what life must've been like before. The first few nights had been the hardest: she'd cried herself to sleep wondering how she'd survive the next three years in this godforsaken place. Only picturing Christopher, imagining his strong arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, had comforted her enough to allow her to drift off to sleep in the wee hours of the morning.
She didn't think of him so much anymore. Some days she caught herself forgetting to think of him at all, and then she had to chastise herself, remind herself what she was here for. These three long years were only a journey to get back to her beloved, to get back to the picture-perfect life she'd always dreamed of. But somehow that seemed less and less important as the days passed; Lorna found herself focusing, more and more, on the here-and-now.
It was Nicky that made this place almost bearable. From the very first exaggerated wink the curly-haired woman had given her, Lorna had known she was special. And Nicky had proven it over and over again—she'd comforted her those first days, made her believe everything could be okay if they stuck together. She'd put in a good word for Lorna with Red, invited her into their little family without even a second thought.
They were sitting together now in what Lorna had come to think of as their spot: the space behind the pulpit in Litchfield's little chapel. It was where Nicky had taken her that very first week to give her the tube of lipstick that Lorna still kept hidden in her bunk, even though it was worn down and nearly unusable now.
"Now, I really think the whole thing would've ended ve-ry differently if Maria had just told Tony that…" Lorna was saying as she flipped through yet another of her various bridal magazines. Nicky watched her as she spoke, fiddling with the hem of Lorna's shirt, their limbs sprawled together in comfortable familiarity.
Lorna looked up from her magazine and met Nicky's eye, cutting herself off in the middle of her sentence as their gazes met and her breath caught in her throat. Every once in a while, she caught Nicky looking at her like that: big doe eyes open and thoughtful, almost contemplative. Lorna always wanted to fall right into that look, let Nicky swallow her up and surround her with her soft warmth. But she always tore herself away before she could succumb to the temptation, wondering at the tightness in her chest that inevitably lingered after.
"Whatcha lookin' at, Nichols?" she asked today, feeling the beating of her heart speed up as she became hyper-aware of just how close the two were to one another, bundled together there behind the pulpit.
Nicky looked down—almost shyly, Lorna thought, but maybe she was imagining that. When she looked up again, her eyes still held that raw honesty, that vulnerability that Lorna didn't quite know what to do with.
"Just how beautiful you look today, kid." The way she said it was offhanded, casual, but it still sucked all the air out of Lorna's lungs.
She couldn't help the uncertainty in her response, the split second of hesitation before she replied. "Y-you really think so?"
Nicky still had those big brown eyes fixed on her. "Always." She had an odd sort of smile on her lips—not her usual smirk, but something more tender, infinitely gentler.
Lorna wasn't sure how it happened, but the next thing she knew, she was leaning in close to Nicky, still staring straight into those softly blinking brown eyes. Her own eyes darted down to Nicky's lips; for the first time, she let herself imagine closing the gap between them, pressing her lips against Nicky's. She imagined how soft they'd be, and how warm. It would be so easy to let this happen; could anyone blame her? A girl couldn't be expected not to get lonely in prison. No one would blame her if she let this happen, if she kissed Nicky and pretended it was Christopher's mouth she was feeling against her own. She leaned in closer, closing her eyes, and then—
—then Nicky was kissing her softly, and all thoughts of Christopher melted away under the sensation of her red lips pressed against Nicky's chapped ones. She'd been right—Nicky's lips were warm and soft against her own, and she stifled a moan at the sensation, opening her mouth as Nicky's tongue swiped at her bottom lip.
Lorna leaned in even closer, letting Nicky's tongue enter her mouth as she wound her fingers through the lion's mane of hair on Nicky's head. She could feel Nicky smile against her lips, felt herself being drawn closer as an arm was thrown around her waist. She felt herself gasp into Nicky's mouth, unsure whether she wanted to melt into the other woman's arms or wrench herself away.
Before she knew it, Nicky was leaning back, leaving Lorna's head whirling.
"I'm not—" she mumbled, panting, as they pulled apart. "I'm not a—a lesbian."
Nicky chuckled, lips red and smeared with Lorna's lipstick. She reached out to place a hand on the side of the brunette's face, one thumb swiping soothingly across her cheek. "Whatever you say, kid."