A/N: Just a quick note to say thank you to those reading. Feel free to let me know what you think! x

3. LitchVegas

Few things about Litchfield sparked Joel Luschek's interest.

It was all he could do to keep showing up day after day after day, keeping his head down and his coffee spiked, just doing enough to justify the continued signing of his pay check. While some people lived to work, he definitely wasn't one of them. No sir, he worked to live. Necessary evil, nothing more.

And seeing how shit had gone down lately certainly hadn't gone far towards inspiring a change of approach. Look where trying to play the big dog had gotten Piscatella. Dead as the proverbial dodo, that's where.

He sure as shit wasn't giving his life for Litchfield, not when he pretty much begrudged even wasting clean boxers on the place. Nope, he'd never been one for going above and beyond, rocking any boats he didn't have to, or setting out to make an impression. But then he'd never had some hot blonde show up in the staff room out of nowhere. That, he had to admit, was an unexpected development.

Even if he was wary of another chick cut from the same cloth as the new warden.

Fig was … weirdly hot. In that skinny, high-maintenance way you just knew would be hellish to live with. He hadn't fully decided on whether she'd be uptight or kinda slutty. Backed by the rumours about her and Caputo, he was leaning towards slutty. But, if he was honest, beyond the occasional idle daydream over the possibilities to pass the time in the workshop where he spent most of his working day, he didn't actually care to find out. In fact, he wasn't entirely convinced sex with the tall brunette wouldn't pretty much be the equivalent of sticking your dick in a bear trap.

So, while he raised a curious eyebrow as he was introduced by Caputo to the newbie, he wasn't really getting his hopes up that she'd be anything more than another pain in the ass. Albeit one that prettied up the scenery.

"So, Dallas, huh? Like the Cowboys?" he tried, deciding he might as well at least try to break the ice once they'd been left alone.

"That's me," the blonde smiled, already warm where Fig was only ever frosty. "How's the coffee here?"

"Um, okay, if you don't mind the taste of bitterness and regret."

"That come with milk and sugar?"

"It can."

"Hit me up," she grinned, strolling over to perch on the edge of the table and catching his gaze as she swung her feet back and forth just a little. "Caffeine edges regret every time. So, Joel, how come you don't have to go count inmates with the troops?"

"They don't like it when I take my boots off to count over ten," Luschek deadpanned, setting about making them both coffee in takeaway cups. "Hey, speaking of boots, how come you aren't in uniform? Fig will probably not appreciate the killer heels competition."

Dallas laughed at that. "A guy who notices shoes – you're either gay or quite the catch. They are nice though, right? And Fig will just have to get used to it. No uniform for me because I'm not actually a guard. I heard you had corrections officers who doubled up as inmate counsellors here before. Me, I'm the real deal. Or no good at multi-tasking. Take your pick."

"Ah, a counsellor. Well, yeah, plenty of need round here for one of those. Or, y'know, a coupla dozen."

"I was afraid you might say something like that. Sorry, but it's just me. And just one day a week."

"That's Litchfield for you. If it's gotta be done, do it half-assed. Shit, not that you're half-assed. I'm sure your ass is fine. And we just met and I'm talking about your ass. I'm gonna go ahead and pour this scalding hot coffee down my throat in the hope it melts my oesophagus and shuts me up."

But Dallas could only laugh in the face of his clumsy attempt to get back on safer ground. "Hey, it's cool. We're gonna be work buddies – if we can't talk about each other's asses, what can we talk about? So, come on, start spilling the dirt. Who should I be looking out for around this place? What's the boss lady really like?"

Luschek opened his mouth to answer, only to quickly think the better of it and cut himself off, his eyes narrowing in obvious suspicion. "Are you like her mole or something? Are you wearing a wire? Ms Figueroa is a damn fine warden and-"

"And I'd say she'd benefit from removing the stick from her ass, but I'm also wondering if maybe she is the stick," Dallas mused sweetly, blowing on her coffee as the guard gawped at her in surprised approval.

"And Litchfield is the ass … Oh, you I think I'm gonna like," he declared, holding out an arm with exaggerated chivalry. "Let's take a walk and I'll show you the sights. That oughta kill three minutes."

"That good, huh?"

"The Vegas of the prison system, baby – only with more gamblers and crack whores."

"I've probably had worse three-minute offers," she shrugged, making him choke on a swig of coffee as she hopped off the table with a little grin. "Lead on."

After the routine scramble to stand by their cubes for the morning count, all had once again fallen relatively quiet in the Suburbs. It was hardly surprising. The whole prison had been more subdued than usual in the aftermath of the riot.

Even though the worst was apparently over, the women were still traumatised after having found out just how vulnerable they could be. And they could hardly take pleasure in the demise of the cruel Piscatella when his death amid so-called friendly fire just further proved how dangerous inept guards could be. Even their own colleagues hadn't been safe from the deadly chaos they could cause without so much as trying.

It didn't help that so many of those that were looked to as leaders, mother figures even, had been taken from them. Red, Gloria, Taystee… All taken straight to Max immediately after their capture.

Nicky Nichols, her once straightened hair returned to its customary wildness, sat on the edge of her bunk and wiped a hand over her face at the memory of the moment their captors had stormed their way into their makeshift sanctuary. In that instant, one hand clutched in Gloria's and the other arm around an injured Alex Vause, even she hadn't been able to muster up a single flippant remark.

It could have been the end, and they'd all known it.

It had been loud and aggressive and it happened fast, the air filled with smoke and dust from the blast and the furious shouting of those SWAT assholes to get on the fucking floor. Suzanne had been yelling and crying. Probably they all had, but her distressed cries had seemed to carry above the rest. Just like when Poussey … That didn't bear thinking about, but both times she had at once understood too much and not enough to be calmed by anyone.

And it had only gotten worse when they started trailing Taystee and Cindy out.

None of them had actually fought. They knew they didn't have a chance against a bunch of grown-ass men armed to the teeth and in full riot gear. And they had never wanted this anyway. Not this violent … mess. Just to be heard. Just justice.

And yet it had still descended into a struggle of sorts. One-sided, but then weren't they always?

If there was any slim chance Alex's arm had only been fractured before, by that monster who had tortured Red right in front of them, it was definitely broken by the time she'd been unnecessarily pinned to the ground beside Piper. Her girlfriend got the same treatment, minus the broken bones, and had sobbed and raged about human rights as only white girl privilege would allow in the face of the shitstorm going down all around them.

Blanca had sworn up a storm all of her own, cursing their captors, their mothers and their mothers' mothers in dark Spanish that sounded terrifying enough without the aid of translation.

Frieda seemed to get off lightest, if only because her stony-faced calm scared the absolute shit out of the guards who found themselves forced to lift her bodily and carry her out when she simply sat down cross-legged and refused to budge an inch.

And Nicky … Almost crushed into the floor with a knee on her back and a rough hand fisted in her hair, causing her to lose a clump when she tried to move, had only been able to think of two things. How terrifyingly easy it would be to end up going out like Poussey in the midst of the carnage, and how glad she was she had gotten Morello the hell out of there. She could handle anything as long as she knew the pretty little Italian was safe.

Of course that proved more complicated once they actually managed to survive the night, only to end up in separate prisons – Morello bussed to fuck knows where and Nicky herself left to stew in Max. She hadn't even really been able to take comfort in knowing that at least she had family there second time around. Knowing just how shit the high-security facility was, she could never want that for them. Not even if it meant helping to keep her from falling off the wagon again.

They had gotten through it though. One painful day at a time.

And now that the dust had settled, they were actually being returned, one by one, to where they belonged. At least the problem of overcrowding had some benefits, because Nicky suspected those in charge would have loved to keep them all in Max and throw away the key if they thought they could, but there just wasn't room.

So, instead, here she was. Back in the 'Burbs, sharing a cube with Boo, Pensatucky and … little Lorna Morello. Who had initially thrown herself into her arms the moment she had first clocked her heading into the dorm and sobbed all down the front of her scrub top – but was now curled up on her bunk and facing the wall in an apparent attempt to shut everyone out. Even her.

"Why do the hot ones always gotta be psychotic?" Nicky muttered to herself, not for the first time. "Yo, Morello! You planning on being this damn hormonal for the entire nine months?"

No answer. She'd tried being her usual breezy self, she'd tried letting it slide in the hope the other woman would come around of her own accord. Maybe it was time to try a different tactic.

"Lorna," she coaxed, lying down beside her and running a hand over that soft dark hair, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Talk to me, doll."

With a little sniffle, Lorna sat up but pulled away from her to sit with her arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees, the picture of misery despite what seemed to be an effort to put a brave face on. She hadn't even put her usual makeshift make-up on though. Not that Nicky thought she needed any of it, although she did admittedly find the retro pin-up look sexy as hell.

"I can't let myself get used to you being there, Nicky," she tried to explain, wiping ineffectually at her eyes.

"Ah, yes, because I have that holiday in the Bahamas I was planning on taking," Nicky drawled, confusion plain on her face. "Did you take a bang to the head or something? Because I ain't goin' anywhere, sweetheart. And neither are you."

"You don't know that!" Lorna said, insistent in her distress. "You ended up in Max again and I know that must have been horrible for you, but I was in some strange place all alone and … and … It was awful, Nicky. I didn't have you, or Red, or anyone and I did not like that. I did not like that one bit. So I need to learn to be stronger, to look after myself and not be scared. I can't be someone's mommy and be so scared."

For once, Nicky had to admit that she could at least understand her best friend's neurosis, but that still didn't mean she wanted to leave her to struggle along on her own. Not just to prove a point and when it didn't have to be that way. God knows the news of Lorna's not-so-phantom-after-all pregnancy had thrown her for a loop, and she certainly had no expertise to offer on the subject, but she was fully intent on supporting her through it all as best she could.

"Hey," she tried. "You don't have to be scared, kid. You're stronger than you know. Yes, you are. Trust me, I know shit. And you want to feel like you could cope if you had to, I get that. That's good. But Lorn, don't go shutting me out and making yourself lonely and miserable when we can … sit in here and be miserable together. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

"It could happen, Nicky. They could just take you away again. Or me. Oh my god, what if I ended up in Max? I couldn't cope, I know I couldn't …"

"Now you're talking crazy again. Or crazier than usual. That's ain't gonna happen. You planning on starting shit you ain't told me? Throwing down with the meth-heads in some weird turf battle? That ain't you. Besides, no way are they gonna try sticking you in Max with a bun in the oven. Are you kidding me? You don't gotta worry about anything, I swear. Of course, except what you're gonna do when the serious cravings for more than just me kick in … I'm teasing, I'm teasing," Nicky laughed, as Lorna looked set to start scolding now she was set on trying to be all straight and respectably married again, although she did allow herself to be pulled into a little hug. "I'm gonna be right here, Morello. I'm gonna look after you."

"Promise?" came the soft whisper.

"Promise. Now, come on, you should get out into the yard for some fresh air and I gotta get to Electrical or else Luschek's gonna … Be entirely too busy with some hot blonde to notice apparently," Nicky finished, wide-eyed in amused surprise at the sight of the scruffy guard with very attractive company. "Huh, interesting ..."

To be continued ...