It isn't until 4 a.m. when I get to my apartment to take a three-hour nap, then shower and head right back in to the field office. I got my ass handed to me last night, and Kevin wasn't even the one doing the chewing out. I'll face him today, and I'm confident I'll get an earful. I deserve it. I abandoned my post to deal with Piper. However, if I wouldn't have gone downstairs in the club that second time, Piper could've bolted upstairs and ruined everything or gotten injured. Agent Thompson agreed with my rationale, but he still wrote me up. It's my first disciplinary write-up, so this one is just a warning. If it happens again, I'll be suspended.

I take the Subway back Uptown, and there's no denying I'm exhausted, but I smile at the thought of seeing Piper this morning. Last night was rough but being alone with her even as we talked about stuff above the belt was cathartic. To look into her eyes, feel her touch…it wasn't nearly enough, but it might be a start.

The officer at the front door greets me with a grin like he knows I'm in trouble. "Boz is waiting for you."

I swipe my badge across the sensor, rolling my eyes. "Thanks for the update."

"Somebody else is waiting, too. Tall, fine-looking blonde."

I breeze past him and head into the reception area that looks like a holding tank straight out of the 1970s. The brightest thing in the room is Piper.

She stands, gives me a once-over and gulps. "You're back to normal Alex."

I'd almost forgotten how I was dressed last night. "I don't parade around town in disguise." I smirk, doing my best to hide my own roaming eyes. "Besides, the case is over."

Piper looks good—really good. Her hair is wavy, lips are colored with light pink lipstick and she has on a green dress with white lace around the sleeves and bottom. She looks innocent and almost child-like. I wonder if she chose that dress for exactly that reason as she's about to face questioning from federal agents.

"I'm new to the whole undercover thing; I don't know the rules."

An image flashes in my mind of a conversation we had many years ago about Piper not knowing the rules. As I recall, we ended up fucking in the bathroom of a bar instead of going to the burlesque show. Judging from the look on her face, Piper's mind took that same trip down memory lane.

"It's about time, Vause." Kevin rarely calls me by my last name. He stands in the doorway, hands on his hips.

"I should go."

Piper nods.

"Good luck," I toss out.

"Thank you." She adjusts her purse on her shoulder. "Will I see you again?"

"I hope so." I turn on my heel and follow Kevin to our shared office.

For the next 30 minutes, I get an earful from Kevin. I understand why he's pissed, and I apologize, trying to explain my actions. Eventually, he calms down and listens to my side of the story.

When I can sense he's done with his rant, I offer, "Thompson wrote me up."

"Good." Despite his calmness, he shows no signs of letting this thing slide. "I hope something like this never happens again."

"It won't."

He sits in his desk chair, and now we're at eye level. "Was that her out there?"

"Yeah." I nod. "Thompson almost arrested her last night for impeding the investigation."

"Not surprising. Now she has to go through protocol?"

"Yeah." I bite the inside of my lip, debating if I should defend Piper or not. "She had no idea we were in the middle of an assignment."

Kevin lifts his brows, like he wants to offer a rebuttal, but he stays silent.

"She recognized me, and I freaked her out with the platinum wig and blue contacts." I shrug. "She just wanted to know what happened to me."

"Now she knows."

"Yeah."

He clicks a pen and writes something on a Post-It note. "Where does that leave the two of you?"

I let my head fall back and stare at the tiled ceiling. "I have no idea."

"If she wants to talk with someone…" Kevin hands me the slip of paper. "Here's my wife's number. She's been through it all."

I'm shocked by his offer. He and I are close, but I had no idea he'd extend this olive branch so soon after ripping me a new one. "Thank you."

"We need to talk about Rossellini before meeting with Thompson."

We spend the next hour talking and filling out paperwork, but my mind keeps racing back to Piper. Is she still here? Did they make her cry? Did she have to sign anything?

I glance at my watch several times during our meeting, and finally, I excuse myself. "I'll be right back."

Kevin doesn't look up and continues typing.

The field office is relatively small—only one level with about 20 offices, a reception area and three conference rooms. I travel down the hallway, looking through open doors and windows to see if I can find Piper with no luck. I make my way back to the reception area, but it's empty.

"Looking for someone?" the receptionist asks.

I lean over the desk. "Piper Chapman. She should've signed in."

She glances at her computer screen. "Looks like she's with Ramos."

I walk down the opposite hallway towards Agent Ramos' office. He and I don't have many reasons to interact, but I know him to be a fair-minded man.

I pace outside his office, trying to get a look inside, but the window flanking the door is frosted, so I can only see blurry images. I glance at my watch, noticing it's going on 10 a.m., which means Piper has been here for two hours. I don't know how long these things usually take, but that seems like a long time. I wanted to check in with her before she left, but I have a meeting with Thompson in 10 minutes, and if I'm even five seconds late, my ass will be handed to me for a second time in 24 hours.

As I turn to walk away, the door creaks open.

"Alex?" She looks surprised to see me.

I shove my hands in my pockets. "Hey."

"Vause, will you escort Ms. Chapman back up front?"

"Yes, sir." I lead her down the hallway. "How'd it go?"

"You weren't kidding." She runs a hand through her hair. "This is serious."

"I wouldn't fuck around with something like that," I whisper. "Are you ok?"

"It's a lot to process."

"Do you want to tell me about it…maybe over dinner?"

She stops short. "Alex…"

I don't say a word. I let her look at my face and come to a decision on her own.

Piper lowers her gaze. "I can't."

My heart sinks.

"I need some time to sort all this out on my own." Her face cracks a bit, and I wonder if she'll change her mind. "I'm sorry."

I don't blame her, but it still sucks. One thing we've had trouble with in our on-again, off-again relationship is trusting each other. It seems like every time we reach a pinnacle of trusting each other, something happens to make it unravel. I know Piper is still wary about my taking a deal with the feds in order to protect both of us, and I need to prove that I did it for all the right reasons. As much as I'd like that to happen sooner rather than later, she's not ready to move past it, and I can't force it down her throat.

"Me, too." I run my hand down the back of her arm. "It was good seeing you."

Piper opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

The rest of the day is just bad. I think about Piper far more than what would be considered healthy and the meeting with Thompson was almost as terrible as my meeting with him in the wee hours of the morning. I go home late that night, hoping to sleep it off.

I was foolish to think I'd get another undercover assignment after what happened with the Rossellini case; instead, the next month I'm relegated to office work. With each day that passes, Kevin becomes more resentful as we watch two other teams get assigned to field work while we're stuck typing and filing reports for other agents who are too busy. I'm in the doghouse, and I've dragged my partner there, too. I've tried buying him lunch, taking him out for a beer and cleaning the office from top to bottom, but nothing makes up for my actions.

The other thing that sucks is having to move again. I've never lived in the same apartment for more than three months, and this time is no different. I still don't fully understand why I need to relocate so often, but when the feds use words like, for your own safety, I have to trust them. Besides, they pay the rent, so I suppose there's very little for me to complain about other than having to acquaint myself with a new neighborhood each time.

Coincidentally, my new apartment is two blocks from the bar where Piper and I talked a month ago. Though I wouldn't consider it the safest neighborhood, it's the biggest unit I've lived in so far with the nicest furniture, and it's not far from Morningside Heights.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about Piper, and instead of my feelings fluttering away as time marches on, they've only gotten more pronounced. I know she's still upset with me for what went down in Chicago and for leaving her without telling her why when she was at Litchfield, but she has to understand why I did what I did.

It was easy to find her mobile number in our database, and I stored it in my phone, but the furthest I've gotten to contacting her is just staring at her name. There are times when I'll stare at it until the screen goes black, and then I wake it up and stare longer, repeating that twisted ritual over and over until something interrupts me. I've wanted to reach out to her countless times, but each time, I chicken out. I walk around with the piece of paper Kevin gave me with his wife's number on it, thinking I'll just call Piper and tell her Mia would be a good person to talk to about what it's like to know someone who does undercover work. I vow that I'll do it in another two weeks if fate doesn't bring us together some other way.

It's nice when I don't have to work on weekends, though I don't have any regular friends with whom to hang out. There are a few people at the field office who I occasionally get together with to play cards or have a beer, but Kevin is my closest friend. The unfortunate part is that I have to keep it that way. If I end up falling in love, that's one thing, but the likelihood of that happening is rare since I don't put myself out there; plus, I'm already in love.

On this warm summer day, I decide to hit the Morningside Heights farmer's market. While I don't cook often, it's hard to resist the fresh produce this time of year. I stroll through the stalls, buying a head of butter lettuce here and heirloom tomatoes there. Since getting out of prison, I try to take advantage of fresh food whenever I can—I never want to go back to the putrid food we were served at Litchfield. Everything around me is ripe and vibrant, and it makes me smile more than I've smiled in a long time.

As I turn the corner, a pair of familiar blue eyes catch my own.

"Piper?"

She furrows her brow. "Alex? What are you doing here?"

I walk closer, shoving my glasses to the top of my head as if that'll make me see her better. "I live a few blocks away."

"I thought you said you lived miles away?"

"I did." I'd forgotten I told her that when we went to the bar. "I move every three months or so for work."

"Oh." She looks good, not that I'd ever expect her to look bad. She has on white shorts and a light blue, fitted V-neck t-shirt. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and once again I'm struck by how young she looks.

"How've you been?" I ask.

"Fine." She leaves it at that, and I know this conversation will be short-lived.

I peek into her wicker basket. "Looks like you've got some nice produce."

"Which one would typically find at a farmer's market." Snark. I get it.

"Do you live around here?"

Piper nods. "I told you that when we were in Harlem."

"Right." I tug my glasses over my eyes, suddenly feeling like I want something as stupid as eyeglasses between us. "I don't suppose you'd want to take a walk or get some ice cream or something?"

"Alex," she sighs, looking away briefly before returning her gaze to me. "Even if I wanted to get involved with you again—which I don't," Piper begins with what feels like fake conviction. "The life you lead is scary and dangerous. I've already been through one round of that with you, and I don't want to go down that path again."

"That was completely different," I complain. "Back then I was the one selling drugs, this time I'm on the other side!"

She looks at her feet, and I know she's processing this information. I can only hope she understands that. She looks back up at me with sad eyes. "I'm not ready for you to be back in my life."

"Fine," I huff, frustrated that she won't budge. "Doesn't mean I'm giving up."

Her face twitches, and for a second, I recognize the beginning of a smile. It's gone before I can even capture it.

"Take care, Pipes." With that, I walk away.

The following Sunday, I make my way down to the farmer's market around the same time in hopes of running into Piper again. I buy cucumbers, green beans, squash and a bunch of daffodils. I waste time, sitting on a bench, chewing on a soft pretzel when I hear my name.

"Holy shit, Vause! Is that you?"

I turn to see a familiar face approaching me. "Nichols?"

She walks up to me, arms open wide for a hug. "What the fuck?"

I stand to hug her, smile dangling off my lips. "Did you break out of prison or did mommy dearest make bail?"

"I did my fair share of time." She releases me. "But you know, a little money also goes a long way." Nicky sits on the bench. "What have you been doing with yourself?"

"This and that." I shrug, joining her on the bench. "Not much, really."

"But you're staying out of trouble?"

I nod, fearful of giving away too much. "What about you?"

She raises her hands. "Living the life of a trust fund kid. I've been sober for nine months, so that's something."

"That's great to hear."

"I've asked Chapman if she's heard from you, but the few times I've brought up your name, she's given me the look—you know the one."

Why am I not surprised? "I do."

"She usually come to the market on Sundays, but she's under the weather today," Nicky offers.

"You talk to her regularly?"

"We live together," she replies as if I should know that information.

"You? Piper?" My eyebrows shoot up. "You live together?" Why wouldn't Piper have told me she was living with Nicky? It makes no sense. A feeling of relief washes over me.

"Yeah. She got out a month before me and was living with her folks in Connecticut, but when I got bounced, I asked her to come live with me in the city rent free. Hardly something she could refuse."

I have to ask. "But you're not…"

"Me and Chapman? Hardly!" She gets a good laugh out of that and puts a hand on my shoulder. "She will always and forever be hung up on you, Vause."

That warrants a genuine smile. "That makes two of us."

"You still burning in the groin for her, huh?" She nudges me. "I have that familiar burn sometimes, too. But she's off the market. Besides, I wouldn't do that to ya."

"Good to know," I chuckle. "Give her these. Tell her they're from me, and I hope she feels better soon." I hand her the bouquet of flowers.

Nicky stands. "You want to come over and give them to her yourself?"

I toss the idea around in my head, but I shouldn't. I need to proceed with caution. "Not today."

"Alright, well give me your number. We should get together soon." She pulls out her phone. "In fact, I'm hosting a barbeque at our place next Saturday. You should come."

"I might be able to fit that in." I stand, taking her phone and entering my current cell phone number. Nicky doesn't need to know that my number changes every time I move.

"I'll text you the details." She hugs me again. "Good seeing you out and about, Vause. And it goes without saying—you look great. If you ever want to repeat that one-time love affair back at Litchfield…" She wags her eyebrows.

"Tempting," I tease. "See you soon, Nichols."

I walk back to my apartment, smiling from ear to ear.

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews so far! Stay tuned for chapter 5 at some point next week.