Chapter Nine:

"So that's it?" Delia snorts. "You're just leaving it at that?"

Alex blinks at Delia, her lip curling almost unconsciously into a little snarl. She has been baring her soul for the last twenty minutes as they unpack and inventory two more big boxes of Judy King's memoir, which has been selling like hotcakes since the last article about the shop came out. She just finished telling Delia how they ended things and that she doesn't think she and Piper have any sort of shot at a relationship ever again. Considering she is not one for lovesick confessions, Alex is expecting a little more empathy than she's getting.

"What would you suggest I do?" Alex's voice is razor sharp.

Delia pauses her unboxing to scan Alex's face. Whatever she finds softens her features and she looks back at Alex in earnest, books temporarily forgotten.

"You said you hate Piper's parents," Delia says. Alex is a little confused at the shift in conversation, but she nods. "How come?"

Alex doesn't even need to think, "They set an awful example. It was always about what she did for them. How her accomplishments reflected on their family. They made her think love and affection have to be earned. It's selfish. Like–" Alex searches for an example.

"Okay, like when I was working for the cartel," Alex says. "My mom didn't necessarily approve of my career choice, but she also didn't judge me for it, either. She knew it was my life, and she accepted me, no questions asked. That's unconditional love."

"But you don't approve of Piper's actions," Delia points out. "You don't think she's made smart decisions, and you're judging her for them."

"That's not–" Alex stutters. "I love Piper no matter what choices she makes."

Delia gives Alex a sad little smile, "Even if it's not being with you?"

The words are like a sucker punch. Alex visibly recoils. Delia stands and pats Alex on the shoulder as she makes some excuse about a smoke break even though it's clear she's leaving Alex alone to process her assessment. Alex doesn't have to think long. In her heart, she knows Delia is right.

Alex never put much stock in the whole soulmates thing: the idea that there's someone out there designed by a higher power to be her perfect match, but she does believe in chemistry. Like how you can combine separate substances that are completely benign on their own into something that creates an unmatched euphoria. And as a ruthless pragmatist, Alex has always believed in the power of devotion and persistence to get what she wants. This is why, ever since Piper stole her heart in that college bar, Alex has been singularly devoted to keeping her. Nicky Nichols asked her in the laundry room once what was so different about Piper Chapman. If Alex is really honest with herself, she has no better answer now than she did then–Piper is just different. Maybe that's what soulmates is–a chemistry you can't explain.

Delia peaks her face back around the corner of the office wall. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Alex releases a heavy sigh. She figures it can't hurt to confess one more thing. "Do you think it's too late, Dee? So much shit has happened."

"That's life," Delia shrugs. "When you got locked up, did you ever imagine this would happen?" Delia gestures around at the shelves of books that surround them. "This store? Articles written about what you're doing for ex-cons?"

"Definitely not."

"There you go," Delia nods. "Bad shit happens, but so does good shit, Slim. It's all possible."


Piper turns up a week later in the middle of the afternoon. They are busy. It's sunny and warm. The first day where it seems like summer might stay and people are everywhere. They stroll past the shop on their way to the market and yell hello at each other from the bus stop across the street. Every time the door to the store opens, Alex can hear the sharp notes of a saxophone being played a few blocks away. She is showing a teenage girl the newest Nina LaCour novel when a man asks if she has any gardening books for his wife. Alex looks around for Delia to help and her gut lurches.

Delia is across the shop near the children's section. She brought Honey into work again even though Alex has told her a thousand times that she's running a bookstore, not an animal shelter. The little dog is wagging his tail so furiously it looks like it might shoot off his ass like a dart because a towheaded toddler is smashing her face into his nose. And beyond that is Piper. Piper looking windswept and ravishing in a black blouse and green capris. Piper laughing so hard at something Delia just said that her eyes light up in that old way that sets Alex's belly fluttering.

She pushes the book into the girls' hands and makes a vague gesture at the man toward a display behind him while her feet take her to Piper like it's the only choice like it's the most natural thing there is.

Delia glances at Alex with such a devious smile, she half wonders if Delia orchestrated this whole thing. Then Piper volunteers a shy glance in Alex's direction, her bottom lip tugged between her teeth, and Alex knows that Piper came on her own.

"Hey," Alex says stupidly.

Piper ducks her head in greeting, "Hi."

Between them, Pearl bellows a giggle that shakes her whole body. Honey is licking her wide open mouth. Piper reaches down and swoops the girl up in a single, practiced motion.

"Yucky," Piper scolds. "Don't let that doggy give you crazy kisses."

The little girl sticks two fingers in her mouth and laughs. "Silly puppy," she says. Then her dark eyes find Alex and light up with recognition, which makes something burn in Alex's chest. "Hola!"

"Hey there, Little P," Alex reaches out to tweak the girl's nose.

Pearl giggles and reaches for her so quickly Alex has to catch her or risk Piper losing her grip. Pearl wraps her little arms around Alex's neck in a hug and Alex's belly pulses with an altogether new feeling.

"What are you doing here?"

The words fall out of Alex's mouth before she can gather herself enough to take the edge off. Delia excuses herself to assist a few customers gathering at the register. Pearl wiggles until Alex drops her to the ground and shoots off after Honey who is trotting behind Delia across the store. Piper's eyes follow her daughter, but she stays planted in front of Alex.

"I wanted to talk about the other night at your place–" Piper starts. "When we–"

"Save it," Alex is surprised by the swiftness of her anger. She hadn't really let herself feel it until now. She realizes most of it is directed at herself. She swallows down the instinctive indignation and tempers her tone. "Look, I get it, Pipes. It doesn't have to mean anything."

Piper looks pained. Alex is expecting the usual wide-eyed deflection, but Piper takes a deep breath and looks Alex straight in the eyes.

"I'm not sorry," Piper says. "I know that I should be. I know that it hurt you–that I just keep hurting everyone. I do know that, Alex."

Alex sighs because that isn't quite right, especially after everything she's learned about Piper's life since prison, but Piper doesn't let her interrupt. She barrels on in a low rush like she's being crushed by the invisible weight of all that she needs to say.

"That's why I came here to see you. I want to stop," Piper blows out a breath. "I don't want to be this cavalier person. Some Daisy Buchanan smashing up people's lives carelessly. I don't want to be the one doing all the hurting."

"Okay. So, don't be." Alex smiles despite herself, feeling the tiniest tendril of hope creep back into her chest.

"Jesus, Pipes. You can change without owing penance. Nobody is keeping score." Alex thinks darkly about what Piper said about her parole officer and the scars on Piper's arm. "Besides, you paid plenty already."

Alex softens because something is clicking into place in her brain. She lowers her voice to add, "You're not Hester Prynne, Piper. You can take off the letter, now. You and Pearl don't have to hide away. He took advantage of you."

Shocked into silence, Piper looks blankly back at Alex.

"Not everything bad that happens around you is your fault, Pipes," Alex pushes on. "The fact that your parents can't see how gracious and kind their daughter is just because she has a record is their problem, not yours. And Larry and Polly–" Alex makes a sour face. "Fuck them. If neither of them can see what a great person they lost then they're both idiots."

Alex considers reaching out for Piper's hand but decides against it. For once, Piper's face is wide open. Alex can read the hurt there and the grief. She powers on, trying to infuse her words with both warmth and conviction.

"Your parole officer pressuring you into sleeping with him isn't on you, Piper. Actually, it's assault, and it makes him way more of a criminal than you."

Alex takes a deep breath because they are getting to the heart of it now. This haggard look on Piper's face reminds Alex of that Christmas Eve when Piper came looking for her. Before Piper pummeled Pennsatucky in the snow, she came to Alex for help and Alex turned her away because she thought that if she couldn't have Piper the way she wanted, then Piper wasn't worth having at all. She thinks back to her conversation with Delia and realization cascades over Alex like a waterfall.

"And if I want to be with you, but you don't want that," Alex swallows against the tears in her throat. "That's not your fault, either."

"Oh, Alex–" Piper's voice is thick. "It never had anything to do with wanting."

Alex isn't sure if Piper means now or that fateful day in the Litchfield library. How can something that happened so long ago still hurt so viscerally?

"When I went to prison, I met parts of myself lurking inside me that I didn't even know were in there," Piper's eyes take on that glassy sheen like she's replaying a memory. She shakes her head at whatever is haunting her. "And it was like four percent of my life, but it was enough to change absolutely everything."

Alex nods because she knows that feeling, too. Not from prison so much as those endless, harrowing days after Chicago, waiting for Kubra to kill her. And most of all, that liberating moment when she swung the bat over her shoulder and decided to take fate into her own hands.

"I had no idea who I was–" Piper runs a hand through her hair. "–so when I found out that I was pregnant, I left. It felt like a second chance to salvage some goodness from myself. To figure out what kind of person I wanted to be."

"And did you?" Alex asks. "Figure it out?"

Piper glances over at Pearl. The little girl is sitting pressed against Delia's legs under the cash register with her fingers sunk deep in Honey's fur, a big grin lighting up her entire face.

"Yeah," Piper smiles at her daughter smiling. "I want to be somebody she can count on."

Piper reaches out and twists their fingers together for a second before letting go with a wistful sigh. "I didn't name her after some ancient British tome, Al. I named her after you. I gave her a part of my past to carry with her to remind us both of the toughest lessons."

"A part of your past?" Alex raises her eyebrows.

Piper offers Alex a sad smile, "The best part."

Piper lets the words land between them. She doesn't obfuscate with jokes or snark or random trivia in an effort to undercut the magnitude of what she's just said. Alex isn't sure what to say. Everything that has happened between them–a suitcase in Brussels, a fight in Paris, an affair in prison, even the way they fell together the other night–feels palpable and raw. Alex is so tired of holding onto it all.

"Pearl and I are a family, now," Piper continues. "I need to be there for her, and that means I can't have my own shit going on in the background. I'm sorry that I couldn't say that to you the other night. That I wasn't strong enough to stay away in the first place. When you showed up and stood up for me like that, it felt so good. I just–" Piper gives a helpless little shrug. "I missed you."

Across the room, Pearl has toppled a stack of new paperbacks that need to be shelved. Before Alex can reply, Piper steps around her to collect the little girl. Piper lifts Pearl out of the pile of books and squats down with her to give Honey one last pet. Alex can't seem to make her mouth work. Words are humming in her brain like bees, but none seem able to make their way out.

After the door slammed behind Piper in Paris, Alex did not sob or collapse. She continued folding until the last of her clothes were packed. She called the airline and booked a first-class ticket back to the states. She called Fahri to tell him what had happened. She confessed it all in a calm and unwavering voice. She told him that Piper was gone and so was her mother. She said she needed a little time off but figured she could meet them in Istanbul by the end of the month. She called her aunt back and made some logistical arrangements to hold things over until she arrived. She did everything she needed to do with the practiced aplomb she had acquired through the relentless bullying and severe poverty of her childhood. She was unphased.

Except that she wasn't. Almost immediately, she had trouble sleeping. She could usually fall asleep without much trouble, but now she would jolt awake in the middle of the night reaching for Piper, disoriented and afraid. The emptiness came next–the empty space where Piper should be giving way to an emptiness inside like a crater in her chest.

She started seeing Piper everywhere. Any flash of blonde at an airport would send Alex careening past her gate to chase down some unsuspecting woman trying to catch her connecting flight. The clubs were the worst. When she finally got back on the job, she'd waste entire nights staring into the crowd, sure that if she just looked hard enough, Piper would be there waiting for her in the mass of people gyrating to the music. By the time Fahri finally called her on it, only the heroin helped. It dulled enough of the pain that Alex could survive. Drugs didn't take away that giant crater where Piper used to be, but it helped her navigate it. To find ways around it so that she could do her job.

But that all blew up at Litchfield. Without a bump to get her through her day, she had to cope on the numbing monotony that prison provided, but then life delivered Piper Chapman to her laundry. And took her away. Life kept doing that–dangling Piper in front of her only to rip her away again. Alex isn't sure what she'd done to deserve it. Maybe Piper was right all those years ago and being a drug dealer was enough. It certainly feels like cosmic justice: this addiction to something that she never gets to keep.

With Piper almost gone, Alex is suddenly panicked and remotely ashamed, though she couldn't say exactly what for. She remembers what Delia said about anything being possible and what Nicky told her about staying. Alex plants herself between Piper and the door.

"Prison didn't change me much," Alex admits. "But this has–" she gestures around at the shelves of books and customers browsing. "I've changed, too, Pipes. I'm somebody you can count on. C'mon kid, couldn't you use a friend?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Piper's voice is soft and wary. "You said it yourself. We were never friends."

"I was wrong. Don't you get that by now?" Alex asks it a little desperately. "I was always dead wrong."

Piper looks pensive. In her arms, Pearl is tapping her fingers on Piper's collarbone. Piper catches Pearl's hand in hers and presses a distracted kiss to the little girl's wrist. Pearl drops her head onto Piper's shoulder with a contented little purr and longing knifes through Alex's abdomen at the sight. She's been so stupid, and it feels too late to change any of it, now.

"She starts daycare Monday," Piper says. "I'll have a couple of hours free in the morning before I have to go to work. There's a park not too far from here with walking trails. I know you're not a big fan of mornings or walks, but I was planning to–"

"That sounds great." Alex cuts her off because she will take any little piece of Piper that she can get. "I'll be there."


"Is that the impervious Alex Vause in––" Piper is trying to keep a straight face as she rakes her eyes up and down Alex's body. "Athleisure?!"

In another situation, Alex would be elated for Piper to look at her this way, but as it is, she glances down at her leggings, shirt, and vest as if she did not just take the tags off of them an hour ago nor tie the laces on these hideous running shoes for the first time that morning and manages what she hopes is an impassive shrug.

"Something I had lying around."

Piper raises her eyebrows but doesn't comment. She makes a wordless gesture to a paved path just off the entrance to the park. It is wide enough for them to fall in step next to each other as runners and bikers whiz by periodically on their left. Alex doesn't think she's ever been out and about this early since she got back to the city eighteen months ago. She never used to be an early riser.

In fact, she can recall countless mornings curled under her comforter trying to ignore Piper's pointed early morning mischief. The blonde never seemed to run out of ingenious schemes to lure Alex out of bed. Piper's favorite, and the one that worked best, was tossing her shirt on Alex's face as she trailed the rest of her clothes behind her like breadcrumbs to the shower. Despite the warmth of late May, Alex shivers. Stop, Alex admonishes herself. This is going to be harder than she thought. She steers her mind to more neutral territory.

"So how did Little P like daycare?" Alex asks.

Piper smiles a little at the nickname, but shakes her head, "She didn't."

"No?"

"No," Piper's sigh is a little, tremulous thing. "God, Alex. I can't believe I just left her there. She was so upset. If I hadn't needed to meet you, I think I would have just turned around."

Alex isn't sure what to make of that statement, "Do you need to–"

"No, no," Piper waves her hand and bites off a strangled sound between a laugh and a sob. They round a corner and walk another forty feet before she can start again. "We have to do it. Both of us. Gloria leaves in a week, and I have to work. So it was good that we agreed to meet. It gave me a reason to follow through."

"Did she cry?" Alex remembers the sound that erupted out of Pearl when the door closed behind Piper that night she babysat. She can't imagine having to walk away from it.

"No. It was like she was too shocked. She just stared at me with these big, wet eyes. Her whole body was shaking. She reminded me of–" Piper cuts her eyes away from Alex and takes a deep breath. "Actually, she reminded me of you. That afternoon in Paris. She was looking at me just like you did like her whole world was breaking apart."

Alex is surprised at Piper's frankness. She is not expecting it nor does she expect the rush of something expanding in her chest. She doesn't have the word for it. "That was different."

"Not much," Piper rolls her shoulders.

Regret, Alex thinks. That is the heavy feeling spreading through her chest. She stops and beside her, Piper stops, too. "Yes, much. You weren't wrong to go, Pipes. Maybe not exactly at that moment, but you weren't wrong."

"Not wrong," Piper tries the words out for herself. "What would've been right?"

Alex's reply is a whisper, barely audible over the spring wind moving through the trees. "I don't know."

They start walking again at the same time. It's silent for too long and Alex is wondering if this was a bad idea, after all. She wonders if two people in history have as complicated a history as they do. Then, she thinks absently that Piper could probably name a half dozen from literature alone and the thought makes her feel a rush of affection for this woman walking beside her. What an epic fucking mess it's all been. She doesn't want it to end. Alex is as sure about that as she is confused by the rest of it.

"Alex–"

"So, what did you think of Circe?"

They have spoken at the same time. Fearful at the seriousness she heard in Piper's tone, Alex looks slowly around at her, but she sees the other woman's face clear at the change in subject. Alex picks up their pace a little, and Piper quickens her steps to match so that they are walking at what Alex imagines to be an aerobic pace.

"Oh. My. God. Can you believe the genius of Madeline Miller? That book is divine," Piper grins at her own witticism, checking to see if Alex caught it. "Did you read Song of Achilles, too? It didn't get as much fanfare, but I thought it was just as good. The way she captured–"

It is easier after that. Alex employs the hard-won lessons at the farm and keeps the conversation mostly about books and then which sweet shop nearby has the best turtle fudge. This leads to several related memories of a trip they took to Italy early in their travels. Just like last time, the nostalgia loosens Piper up somehow, even though Alex would've expected it to be the opposite. Piper has just let rip a real, honest-to-god snort of laughter at Alex's retelling of a particularly contentious exchange they had with a cab driver in Turin when Piper's watch starts beeping. Piper glances down at the crappy plastic clock in surprise.

"Oh wow," she says. "It's nearly nine twenty. I have to catch the train."

They have stopped walking and just like that, the awkwardness has returned. Alex is struck with that same old feeling–an unconscious and uncontrollable need. A permanent little prickle of panic at the idea of letting Piper walk away. Will it ever go? This connection they share is unwieldy and inconvenient, but it remains inevitable. A fundamental heartbeat underneath everything. So while being friends may be impossible, it's slightly less impossible than being nothing at all.

"I'm going that direction," Alex offers. "I can walk you most of the way."

Piper tries to cover the flash of a smile with a little nod. They fall in step again on their way out of the park.

"Do you have a shift at the bar tonight, too?" Alex asks, more to make conversation than because she really wants to know. Just the thought of that moron and his motorcycle makes her skin prickle.

"No," Piper shakes her head. "I'm not sure that's going to work out."

Alex perks up, instantly on alert. "Why? Is that creep still giving you shit? Because I can–"

Piper touches Alex's wrist just once like she used to do in foreign cities at a crowded bar when some asshole with one too many drinks under his belt gave Piper the wrong kind of look.

Piper quickens their pace a bit and her tone is lighter when she adds, "Actually, they want to give me more hours on Fridays and Sundays."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"It's just–" Piper hedges. "Paying a sitter for that long with Gloria gone. The cost-benefit really doesn't pan out."

Piper delivers this last line with a shrug and deceptively bright grin. Quintessential Piper to be both so astute and so naive in the same breath.

"I could help out," Alex winces a little at the quickness of her answer.

"Oh no," Piper waves her off. "I can't ask you to do that."

They are a quarter-mile from the train and Alex will have to part ways at the next block if she doesn't want to backtrack to the store. Her mind is working a mile a minute. This could work. Helping Piper out with Pearl could be just the right thing.

"You didn't ask. I offered," Alex points out. "I'm serious. She would have to hang out at the shop with me for a bit on Friday evenings, but I could take her to your place right after. Sunday afternoons I usually take off anyway so Delia can practice closing up."

"I don't know–"

"You said we could be friends," Alex presses. "Isn't this what friends do? C'mon, kid. Let me help you out. At least until you have something else lined up?"

Piper bites her lip in that way that lets Alex know she's won. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Nah," Alex shrugs like agreeing to be a responsible, nurturing adult figure in the life of her ex's daughter with no strings attached is a no-brainer. "Besides, it'll give me a chance to corrupt her a little."

Alex regrets the words the minute they are out of her mouth because they remind her of Piper from those earliest days when they were anything but friends. The earnestness on Piper's turned up face that night in a tiny college bar; the naked lust pulsing between them in a bathroom at a burlesque show; the push and pull that never let up across countries or even whole continents. Alex isn't sure if she can bring herself to regret it, even if she should. The prison part is murkier and the regret denser, but even that led her here, to a tiny possibility of Piper again.

"Oh Alex," Piper graces Alex with one of her best smirks as they prepare to part ways, and not the first time, Alex sees how fully aware Piper is of the power she always held. "You were never half as devious as you thought you were."

Thanks for all the well wishes. Fingers crossed we've made it through our brush with Covid relatively unscathed and with no secondary infections, so far. A little extra helping on this chapter in celebration of the holidays. I'm glad to be through this narrative bridge and stoked to set Alex and Pearl loose in the city for some adventures.