General Fic Warnings: PTSD, depression, lightly evocative of self-harm
your hand can heal (your hands can bruise)
Piper cries in the bathroom.
It's loud and messy and right in the open but luckily no one pays her much attention, just steps around her or over her or maybe mutters something sarcastic she can't hear over her own sobbing. No one stops. No one worries, not even Alex, who isn't following her - which is good. That's the whole point.
But there is so much selfish left inside Piper, and she's been trying and trying to smother it but now it's making itself known and that's why she can't stop crying.
The selfish part of her really, really wantsAlex to care about her.
Alex cries in her bunk.
It's quiet and choked and so fucking angry, because she knows exactly what Piper's doing, and she hates that it's working.
But of course it's working. Piper knew right where to aim and fire, and all along she's had the perfect ammunition.
Fuck, Alex can't stop picturing it.
It's so objectively awful, for just the reasons Piper had said: she had Alex sent back to prison, just to be with her, and Alex had forgiven that, stopped blaming entirely, and Piper still found someone else.
But Alex isn't thinking about that part, the blatant hypocrisy.
She's thinking about how fucking scared she'd been, all the time. She'd been fumbling around in the dark for Piper's hand, the one thing she had to grab onto, and so often she couldn't find it and now she knows why.
She's thinking about all the times she could see Piper getting annoyed with her, exasperated by the crazy, so Alex had tried so hard to push it down, to believe her.
And the whole time...
Fuck her.
Alex doesn't want to think that, not now, because Piper is still just as broken as she was yesterday.
But at the moment it's hard for Alex to see past her own hurt.
Piper has broken her heart too many times.
At a certain point, it won't able to take anymore. You'd think she'd have learned a lesson by now.
Maybe it would all be easier if Alex loved Piper just a little bit less.
"You know, with PTSD - " Alex tries not to grimace at the term. " - it's not so helpful to treat the symptoms. You have to really get at the root of the problem."
Gritting her teeth, Alex forces herself to sound reasonable. "Look. I get that. I'm not some fuckin anti-therapy philistine, okay? But maybe you can appreciate that I'm sleeping in the same room as fifty other women. And being the one to wake them up every night screaming isn't the best position to be in." Alex raises her eyebrows. "In a women's prison."
Berdie's lips twitch a little, always so amused by Alex. But then her eyes soften and she nods. "Fair enough. How about we meet each other halfway? I'll send a recommendation to medical to increase your dosage - take it at night, and it may help with the night terrors. But I also want to increase our sessions...the pills are a band-aid, Vause. Let me do more for you than that."
Alex huffs out a scoffing laugh. "You're a counselor in a prison."
Berdie smirks. "And you're a prisoner. Kinda makes us perfect, huh?"
Alex has stayed away from her.
Which is good.
Piper doesn't have to put in the effort to avoid her anymore, because Alex knows to do it herself. She doesn't seek out eye contact, doesn't try to trap her into conversations after count. She lets Piper sit alone at every meal.
Which is good.
Piper's done all she can, now, and so her days are rendered purposeless. The tattoos feel even more important, they're the only thing she has to do now, but Piper tries to slow down. She doesn't go every day, she can't, because she's running out of words and Alex won't be giving her new ones, not anymore.
Which is good, goddamnit, and if hurts -
(if it hurts all the time)
- then that's probably a good thing, too.
"What's your support system like?"
A low, bitter laugh lurches out of Alex before she can stop it. Her support system. Last time she needed a support system it had told her she was crazy. Her support system started fucking someone else.
Berdie lifts her eyebrows, questioning.
Alex shakes away the thought, covering, "My support system is a bunch of other felons, so, y'know. It's fucking stellar."
"But you have friends, which is a good thing." Berdie says patiently. "You're not isolating yourself."
The words hit like a sharp kick of guilt to Alex's gut. Her friendships in here may not be particularly deep, but no, she's not entirely isolated.
That would be Piper.
"Are you having me watched?" Alex mutters. "Because that would've maybe been helpful before I got attacked."
Ignoring that, Berdie answers smoothly, "I've just asked a few COs if you seem okay." She pauses, getting more serious. "They say you tense up around them."
"Right, as opposed to every other inmate who loves being around the guards."
"We talked about this, Vause. It's important to identify your triggers - "
Alex arches an eyebrow, feigning interest. "So...if I say the COs are a trigger, does that mean they have to stay away from me? For mental health purposes?"
Berdie almost smiles. "Nice try. They also said you don't ever go outside."
Alex's smirk falls instantly, her eyes darting away. "That's not required, is it?"
"Of course not. But...it seems like an extreme choice. Avoid even looking at the place where it happened." She leans forward a little, voice gentling. "Had there been any incidents? Flashbacks, panic attacks, anything?"
"No," Alex answers immediately. It's at least partially true. The greenhouse hadn't caused any incidents: she hadn't given it a chance.
But she thinks about her old glasses and starts to feel vaguely ill.
Her hand comes up to touch her face, unconsciously, thinking about the crack in the lens and the shovel that caused it, but on the heels of that, Alex imagines where she found them: hanging on Piper's sweatshirt, kept all that time.
She doesn't like thinking about that. Piper keeping her glasses. Piper guilty.
Piper thinks a lot about just...stopping.
One day she tries it. Just doesn't get up, stays in bed until a CO walks by and barks at her to clear out and go to breakfast. She does, unshowered, unbrushed, un-anything. She doesn't eat, just finds a corner of a table and sits until she's allowed to leave. She doesn't go to work. She'll take the shot that comes, if it comes, if anyone noticed. She lies in her bunk and sleeps on and off for most of the day.
Inside her head, the day doesn't feel different from any other one, but it's so much easier not having to go through the motions.
Alex is trying not to notice, but Piper is right there, and she can't help it.
Well. Piper's technically right there, living in Alex's peripheral vision, but...
Piper just seems gone.
For awhile, she was making a point to not let Alex see her. Now she doesn't seem to think she has to bother. Like she thinks she's succeeded, and now Alex doesn't even care if she's okay.
Alex really tries not to, at first. She's angry and hurting and she doesn't want to care. She tells herself she shouldn't. Besides, she already brought Polly in, and surely anyone who's known Piper that long took one look at her and knew she needed help.
But Polly isn't here. And Alex pays attention over the next two weekends: Piper doesn't get any visitors.
Alex doesn't want to care, she maybe shouldn't care, but fuck, she really, really does.
One afternoon everyone's been talking about the gorgeous weather outside, unusually warm for this late in fall, so Alex has the dorm largely to herself, most everyone out in the yard.
Alex is reading in her bunk when suddenly Lorna comes in. Alex smiles at her. "Sick of the sunshine already?"
"Just came to get my sweatshirt," Lorna replies, pulling it off the hook. "Everyone talks like it's the fucking fourth of July out there, but I get nippy with a breeze." She pulls it on and starts out, stopping suddenly. "Oh, hey. Just saw Chapman heading to the chapel."
Alex drops her book, unsettled. "The chapel? Seriously?"
"Yep, all by her lonesome. Maybe that's where she used to disappear to." She winks. "Just thought you might be interested."
"Yeah, thanks," Alex mutters, distracted, as Lorna heads off again.
If Piper's in the chapel, by herself - and of course she's by herself, she's always by herself...
If Piper's with her staunch atheism is searching for comfort and prayers...
That is not good.
Alex stands up.
Piper's carefully inking out You know why on her right side; she's been living off that last conversation with Alex for two weeks, torturing herself with it, even tattooing the fuck you's, but this is the phrase she keeps coming back to, keeps repeating.
Three words that really mean three more.
She's so focused that she doesn't hear the door of the chapel, just approaching footsteps and she hurriedly pulls down her shirt and rips the tattoo guns cord out of the socket before a voice reaches her, "Pipes?"
Her breath catches in her throat, and she wraps her arms around her stomach, panicked and protective.
Alex is walking down the side aisle of the chapel toward her, expression completely bewildered. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Why are you here?" It flies out of her mouth like an accusation.
"Lorna said she saw you come in."
For an awful second, Piper's afraid she might cry. Her chest feels cracked open, traitorous, selfish relief bursting out of it.
Alex came to find her.
But, no.
She's not supposed to do that anymore.
Piper sets her jaw and narrows her eyes at the floor as Alex gets closer. "Get out."
"No."
"What the hell is your problem, Alex? You're like a fucking abused puppy." As soon as the words are out, Piper has to suppress a physical shudder. "You don't know when to stay away."
It scares her, still, how good she is at this. How easy it is to access her own poison.
But it doesn't have the affect she'd meant to. When Alex's voice falls down to her, it's quiet and a little shocked. "You really think that don't you?" Piper's fumbling for something to say, something worse, but then Alex's voice changes, "What the fuck? Were you...were you giving yourself a tattoo?"
Pure fear balloons between Piper's lungs. Alex can't see them.
"No," she blurts out, bravado gone. She sounds about five years old.
Alex ignores that; she's obviously seen the gun. She sounds worried, now. Always fucking worried. "Piper, what did you do?" Piper feels her moving closer. "Let me see."
"No," more forceful this time. Piper twists around on the floor, her back to Alex, hunched over like she's hiding her own body. "It's Stella's, okay? I let her give me a tattoo before she left." Piper hears Alex inhale sharply, and somehow she knows what she's thinking about. Holding Piper's hand while she got that fish tattoo, how ridiculously pleased Alex had been when Piper told her she wanted it, something to mark the day they'd just had together. Spiteful, Piper adds, "She said it was to remember her by. So I kept the gun, too. I...I like them."
There's a long silence. Piper feels it baring down on her, so heavy. Then Alex laughs, once, harshly, and even before she speaks Piper knows it worked.
"You know what, Pipes...you make it really hard to give a shit about you."
Piper's ready for that, and she takes it under the chin, but fuck it feels more wrecking ball than fist. Finally, finally Alex gets it: Piper is hard to care about, she is hard to love, she is not worth it.
She hears Alex turn and walks away, which is good, and hopes to God she stays gone this time; Piper doesn't think she can stomach doing that to her again.
It reaches Alex at the door of the chapel, this shaky, whimpering sound, and she stops walking.
Fuck.
For a second, she tries to be a different kind of person. Tries to listen to Piper crying and think Good. Tries to think she deserves it, to acknowledge that she should be suffering.
It doesn't stick. Alex doesn't really believe it.
Maybe if she loved her just a little less.
But as it is, leaving Piper alone right now feels impossible, so Alex turns back. She keeps her footsteps as light and quiet as possible, because she doesn't know yet if she can do much more than simply stay.
Piper is sitting on the floor with her legs splayed out, arms limp at her side, head bowed; like a broken doll. Her shoulders are shaking.
Alex reaches for her; she can't help it.
If she loved her less….
She's sitting in the floor crying like a little kid when Alex, who is supposed to be gone, is suddenly right beside her, just barely threading gentle fingers through the back of her hair, and Piper feels herself coming unspooled.
The selfish inside her is clawing its way to the surface, and it's winning. She's too exhausted to fight it.
Piper leans her head against Alex's hip.
God, she wants her to stay.
Piper's head drops against Alex's side, and she can't let herself look down because she's certain it will be her undoing.
It's like Piper is finally too broken to push her away.
Alex's eyes are stinging. She's standing up, fighting with herself, still not sure how much she can give right now.
Then Piper's fist clenches desperately around the hem of Alex's shirt and it's all over.
Alex lowers herself onto the floor in front of Piper, keeping her hand where it is, and when she's at eye level Piper's eyes remember to move away from the scar.
It reminds her why this is all wrong, and Piper belatedly shrugs away from Alex's touch. She dips her head low.
"Look at me," Alex commands softly, and without waiting for refusal, she touches two fingers to Piper's chin and lifts it, not tender, but not rough either. Purely functional. "Look, Pipes."
Painstakingly, Piper does.
She's scared she'll never be able to see Alex's face without hating herself even more.
Finally, finally Piper lifts her gaze to Alex's, and suddenly it hurts to breathe.
Because, see...Piper has always had this smile.
It's this beautiful, unfettered thing, made of sunlight and love and a little bit of magic. She smiles with her whole damn face, and Alex's favorite, favorite thing is being the one to get it out of her.
There was never a moment, even in eight years apart, that Alex couldn't picture that smile.
Until right this moment, looking at Piper. Alex can't imagine that smile on this face, not when Piper's eyes are so blue and so wet and so filled to the brim with pain that Alex thinks it might leak out and wash them both away.
Alex just wants her to feel something good.
So she lifts a hand and cups Piper's face, her thumb brushing at the closest coasting tear. Piper tilts her head when Alex touches her, and she makes a sound like it hurts.
Piper screws her eyes tightly shut, sending more tears falling. Her body is tense, like she might pull away. Alex leans forward, resting their foreheads together. Trying to keep her there.
Delicately, she brushes her lips against Piper's.
It is the gentlest Piper has ever been kissed, and she falls into it, kissing back for too many moments before she remembers that she can't.
She turns her face, and Alex's lips skid over to her cheekbone. They stay there, trailing light, tender kisses. She's got one hand on Piper's other cheek, fingers brushing featherlight, and the other hand stroking her hair, so soft and deliberate and tender.
Piper sits back, leaning on her own hands to stop them from shaking. She's afraid to touch Alex. She won't let herself.
Her throat feels strangled by sobs, and she lets out a soft whimper before she manages to whisper tightly, "You can hurt me. It's okay."
Alex's lips are wet and they taste like salt, and she's not sure anymore if it's from her or Piper.
Piper keeps asking her to hurt her, and it's not the first time she's wanted that. Alex doesn't want to feel guilty, she shouldn't have to, but right now she's so fucking sorry for ever listening.
She touches three fingers to Piper's jaw and guides her lips back, catching them in her own, still soft and slow and a little desperate. Usually, with Piper, it's all instinct. Her mouth knows what to do, and her hands have their own cravings. But now, Alex is all deliberate, thought out motion. Every touch is tender. Every touch is so full.
Piper isn't touching her. Her lips are wet and trembling.
"Alex..." she gasps into her mouth. "Alex, please."
Alex shakes her head against Piper's. She sucks on her lower lip, just a little, then traces her tongue along the seam.
Piper kisses her back.
Piper knows this is wrong but it is the most awake she has felt in so long. Her skin is singing, it wants this moment etched on it forever, but she doesn't know how.
Even with that thought, she's too out of her head, practically out of herself, to notice when Alex pulls her shirt off, first the khaki, and then the long sleeve underneath.
They're still kissing, so it takes a moment before Alex's hand drifts down, skimming Piper's chest, and it turns her into a neon sign, lit up and flashing; Piper stiffens and wrenches away, wild eyed and panicked.
Alex gives her a startled look. "Hey, what's - ?'
Her eyes drop.
Piper's stomach folds in on itself. She tries to cover her torso, but Alex catches her wrists and holds them steady.
For a long time, she just looks.
Piper's skin is prickling with something like shame, and she lifts her eyes to the ceiling, blinking out fresh tears. Alex lets out a sobbing sort of gasp, and it hits Piper for the first time that she's crying, too. She doesn't remember them ever doing this before, crying at the same time.
It takes Alex a second of surveying the dizzying amount of words scrawled onto Piper's body to realize what she's looking at.
Tattoos, messy and stilted and sometimes unhealed, of her own words. Save for the song lyrics, all from the "mix" she gave Piper on her birthday.
Slowly, she relinquishes her hold on Piper's wrists, running her fingers over the words, like she doesn't quite believe them. She keeps having to blink her vision clear.
Her chest is aching. She feels overwhelmed by this, and she doesn't quite understand, but God, she knows it hurts.
"I'm sorry," Piper whispers suddenly, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have put them there..."
Alex looks up, and she can practically feel her heart crack along a whole new fault line.
"Pipes..." She can't help it, her voice is unraveling. She touches Piper's face, strokes her hair, anything that feels like a comfort. "Babe..."
Piper has broken her heart too many times, but never so bad as this.
Alex has questions, she has so much to say, things Piper probably needs to hear, but if she tries she's going to lose it.
So she leans forward and kisses Piper again, less gentle, more searing. She kisses her like it's breathing. Like it can fix something.
Berdie's words come back to her, unbidden. This is a band-aid.
It's also a bad idea, and it ignores so much about what Piper did, or the fact that Piper still can't seem to touch her or look at her face for more than a few seconds.
It's a bad idea, but she does it anyway.
Maybe if Alex loved Piper even a little bit less...
But, God, she wouldn't even recognize herself.
AN: So. A few things: it's deliberate that Alex hasn't seen Piper's arm, no worries, I didn't just forget. Also, I just got back from vacation, so the updates may be slightly less frequent, but hopefully not too bad, because I've been in a major hurry to write this one.
Love to hear what you think about this chapter, been planning for it awhile.