A/N: Blood & Fire. Brooding & Desire.

The flashbacks are in italics.

Enjoy.

There's a buzzing sound, sort of stifled, almost there but not quite.

Alex Vause is eleven years old. She lets herself into the compact apartment after school and fixes herself a messy sandwich; squashing dollops of sickly jelly and oily peanut butter between two slices (crust-less of course) of wonder bread. She licks the knife and her sticky fingers and is about to take a large bite when she first hears the light buzzing sound, so gentle, it's almost a hum. She immediately drops the snack onto the kitchen countertop, curiosity getting the better of her and pricks her ears up, determined to find the source of the sound. It doesn't take her long to track it down.

It's a Wasp; trapped in a powerful beam of late afternoon sunshine. Alex tiptoes closer, breath caught in the back of her throat, because even at eleven, she knows there's something wrong about watching something in distress, but she can't help herself all the same.

It doesn't take Alex long to realise that the insect is being fried alive, it's wings moving in a rapid fizzing motion and for a fraction of time, there's a certain giddiness to be had in knowing the fate of the creature resides in her hands and hers alone. She manages five seconds before she puts it out of its misery, by squashing it with a rolled up newspaper.

She dumps her sandwich in the trash, appetite now vanished, retreats to her room and curls up on the creaky single bed.

She chooses not to dwell on the thought of the fleeting high she felt, pushing it to the back of her mind and screwing her eyes shut, until a light sleep carries her away with it, leaving only a faint smile pulling gently at the corners of her mouth.

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Ava has been crying for the last ten minutes, great heaving sobs like a stroppy toddler, but Alex is struggling to elicit even the merest ounce of sympathy, not after what she's just confessed to.

'So you see Alex, it wasn't me…well not really….it was Don…'

Alex's fists are firmly clenched at her sides, blood pounding behind her eyes.

'Alex? You're scaring me now' Ava says, her voice, still shaky, desperately trying to stifle fresh sobs. 'Alex' she continues, tugging at her arm.

'Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Me' Alex snarls. And almost immediately Ava snatches them away, as if she's been stung. And she stands like that for a few moments, numb from shock, mouth slightly agape, awaiting Alex's next move with a sickening trepidation.

'So this is why you tried to kiss me at the regatta gala? It was all part of this twisted little plan that you had with that manipulative cunt of a boyfriend?!'

'Yes…but I had already started developing feelings for you by then Alex…I wanted to kiss you…..I wanted you to hold me….I just wanted you' she sniffles, wiping new tears away with the back of her hand.

'So why bother to tell me now?' Alex snaps, eyes dangerously narrowed. She's beginning to feel increasingly jittery, as if the very air around is being sucked out of the room and she's slowly being suffocated.

'Because I don't want to do this any more, I told Don…I told him I want out and…and….'

'And what? Just fucking spit it out will you?'

'And, I love you Alex…I really do'

Alex turns away, cannot bear to look at her for a second longer, the woman that had been plotting to ruin her career…her life. 'Please! You mean your twisted little plan wasn't working because I had busted it open.'

'But I could have lied to you when you confronted me tonight, could have brushed it all under the carpet, but I didn't, doesn't that tell you something?'

'Oh yea, sure it does. It tells me you're dumb as fuck as well as being easily led'.

'No Alex, please, listen to me…'

But Alex is in no mood to heed her words. 'Tomorrow, I'm off this job, you can find yourself another fucking patsy.'

Ava swallows hard, taking in the new information, trying to regulate her breathing. 'We just both need to calm down a little' she insists. She disappears out of the kitchen momentarily and returns with a bottle of bourbon and two crystal tumblers.

'You toasting something?' Alex sneers.

'Don't be like that, please' she says. Alex casts her eyes over her. Her hair is ruffled, her make up smudged and she looks so young, so pitifully young, that Alex can feel her resolve softening a little. 'Just one drink' Ava insists, pouring two measures before Alex has the chance to protest. Alex doesn't reply, merely takes the glass that is offered to her and takes a deep sip of the liquor.

'You know what the most fucked up thing about all of this is?'

Ava shakes her head slowly.

'I had no intention of going to the cops about your boyfriend's petty little drug ring, I just do my job, that's what I get paid for, even when that piece of scum was offering me a free hit and a job and whatever else his deluded little mind thought was going to sway me. But now….' She tails off, her eyes shimmering dangerously as she regards Ava over the rim of the glass.

And suddenly Ava snaps to attention, as if a switch has been flicked. 'Now what?' she says, her voice trembling a little, her hand failing to remain steady as she brings the glass up to her lips. The liquid sloshes around inside, crashing against its crystal confines.

'All bets are off' she grins wickedly.

'I wouldn't bank on that' a voice booms behind her. She spins on her heel, locking gaze with Donovan.

'And here comes the fucking organ grinder' Alex says tossing back the remainder of her drink and placing the glass on the counter top with more force than is strictly necessary.

'You might wanna calm down there Vause, because from where I was standing, it sounded like you were making threats and someone like you…well you're in no position to make threats'

'Someone like me? What the fuck's that supposed to mean?' Alex says half laughing, figuring that he's bluffing.

'You want me to spell it out in front of the little lady here?' he says nodding towards Ava.

'I want you to leave Don' Ava says, trying to sound firm but failing miserably.

But if he's heard her, he's choosing to ignore it, his attentions are now reserved firmly for Alex.

'Alex Vause, poor little bastard child' he grins, inching towards her. 'Unloved….unwanted…..'

And now he's so close that Alex can feel his breath on her face and all she knows is that she needs air, as she tries to remain calm, call on all her years of training and experience and to ignore the fact that even though her shift ended two hours ago, she's still wearing her holster….complete with gun.

His breath is laced with raw liquor and cigarettes, but he certainly seems more lucid that she feels.

'People like you' he continues, 'need to be reminded of their place….'

'Don please!' Ava says tugging at his jacket. He swats at her like she's an errant bug and she scuttles away as if she is, tucking herself away into the furthest corner of the kitchen.

Alex uses the distraction to move her hand, fingers curling around the cool metal of the gun. So when he's spitting at her, reminding Alex that she's a 'dyke bitch', what was supposed to be a warning shove, an alarm bell for him to back off, only seeks to flare his temper and before she knows it, he's smashing the bottle of bourbon against the worktop, brandishing the jagged edges in her face. And just before the crimson wave finally comes crashing down, Alex can't help but think what a strange beauty there is in the imperfect edges of the glass. And it makes her smile.

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Alex watches her phone, as it gently creeps across the Formica with a Waspish hum, courting the lip of the table and a descent into nothing. Piper's name flashes on the display for the fifth time in as many minutes. She ignores it. The waitress clears up her plate, refills her coffee and throws her a strange glance. 'Someone you don't wanna talk to huh?'

'Maybe' Alex replies, because truthfully, she's not even sure herself.

And then the display is dulled, the phone momentarily stilled, before the cycle resumes a few seconds later. 'Well whoever it is sure as hell wants to speak to you. Who knows, maybe there's a fire?' she grins, before making her way towards the kitchen.

A fire would be less consuming, less destructive Alex thinks. Whereas Piper Chapman, well, she's savaged her soul, like an untamable beast.

And then the display is illuminated again, call number, nine? Ten? Fifty? And Alex knows she shouldn't, but part of her is taking a deep satisfaction in making this girl squirm. She knows Piper's mind will be in free fall; stabs in the dark and desperate second-guessing.

Let her fry in a sunbeam.

But she doesn't last much longer, before she's picking up and telling Piper she's got twenty minutes. She'll give her thirty she thinks. It's closer to an hour in the end.

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Her coffee is stone cold by the time Piper arrives, but she only notices once the blonde is stood in front of her, as if she's triggered the resumption of all her senses.

Beware the savagery of the beast. It will tear you limb from limb.

But there's no Mike, no Ethan. No one. Just Piper, tightly clutching a hold all, cheeks nipped and raw from the early morning frost and a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

Let her fry in a sunbeam.

'Alex' she breathes, with anxiety or relief, Alex isn't quite sure, as she slips into the seat opposite her.

'Why are you alone?'

'I escaped' she says smiling, 'from everything: from mom and dad…all of it…. because that isn't me any more'. And immediately the lines of her face soften, making her look younger, more vulnerable and Alex has to fight the urge to pull her into a tight embrace, because she's pretty sure if she does, she'll never want to let her go. So she reminds herself of the way Piper slid out of the cab, melting into the night as if Alex were a mere smudge on the canvas of her life, something that would fade out over time…a ghostly residue: a mistake.

'This isn't a joke Piper, you know it's not safe…'

'Well I'm here in one piece aren't I?'

'I'm not sure why'

'What?' Piper replies, her face immediately dropping.

Alex holds her gaze, emerald eyes lacking their usual warmth. Piper Chapman: fair weather reveler.

She's not sure if it's a question or a statement. Doesn't want to ask the former, can't accept the latter.

'You want comfortable Piper? Then turnaround the way that you came and….'

She wants to tell the blonde to forget her, but she's scared if she says it out loud, she'll accept the invitation, maybe part of her wants this get out clause, just needed face-to-face confirmation from Alex.

A thick silence settles around them momentarily as Piper gathers herself to deliver what she's been rehearsing for the whole journey over here. So when she asks Alex why she lied to her, it sounds too practiced, too cold as if it's detached from her, but she doesn't know how to make it better, make this moment right again. So she leaves the words hanging in the air, like a burgeoning monsoon cloud, ready to spill its wares.

'I didn't lie' Alex replies through gritted teeth, imagining the smug look on Polly fucking Harper's face as she dealt out those cards to Piper.

'But you didn't think it was something that the person you were planning a new life with, may want to know?' Piper's eyes are wide, incredulous and it is only now that Alex notices the skin around them is puffy and tender, spilling her hurt feelings in the cab ride over and the thought makes her soften a little, because in truth, none of this is Piper's fault. Not really.

So she tells her about the set up, the foiled plan, of Ava and Donovan, as their lies came tumbling down around them under the watchful eyes of the courtroom, of relief and regret. But she doesn't get to finish the story, there's no need, because Piper Chapman's lips are crashing into hers and suddenly, everything is remarkably ok and she finds herself awfully glad of the two tickets to London nestling in her coat pocket.

Sunbeams can be pretty sometimes.

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It's lunchtime when Stefan takes receipt of the package (a small padded envelope) that has been specifically addressed to him. He opens it with a little trepidation and his curiosity is heightened when a cigar drops onto the table. He carefully unfolds the accompanying piece of paper and immediately sighs in frustration when his eyes glance over the first sentence, but he reads on all the same.

Dear Stefan,

Please accept this as my formal notice of resignation from my post at Black Diamond security. You've done more for me over the years than I'm sure I deserve and thank you just didn't seem to cut it, so, I hope you'll accept this cigar as a form of gratitude. It's Nicaraguan, the good stuff, according to the guy in the store. I hope it's up to the mark, because someone once told me, that now and again, it's good to do things properly.

Take care,

Alex.

He picks up the cigar and examines it closely, inhaling the musky woodiness. She's right; it is the good stuff. He chuckles quietly to himself.

Only Alex Vause.

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A/N: So that's it folks. Thank you to everyone that read/reviewed, much appreciated. Special shout out to 'imissedyourpatronage', because she's just so fuckin ace.