AN: Hello all, why yes, this is a new story. This was supposed to be a very long one shot, but I was distracted while writing this by our very own impavid fool, so I've turned it into a two part story. I know that I've got several other stories going on right now, but I had this stuck on my mind and I wasn't going to be able to write anything this else until I put this down, so hopefully you'll all forgive me for not updating my other stories. Anyway, I all hope that you enjoy this. I was tired while writing it, so I apologize for all and any mistakes. The characters aren't mine and the song at the start and the title of this story also do not belong to me.

Enjoy.

Tightrope

I'm on the tightrope, you've got your reasons

When did it get so hard to breathe?

Hide in the spotlight, I'm feeling so tired

Your hands are burnt from holding me

And maybe you and I will fall in time, eventually

Maybe we'll both die trying, but I can't bring myself to leave

'Cause I've looked, and I ain't seen nothing like you

The way you light up every room tonight, so easily

And I have moved mountains, babe

Just a stumble and too long a grace, and I, I still can't compete.

Kelly Clarkson - Tightrope

It's been six years and you still don't quite feel comfortable in the outside world.

You live in the same apartment that your parents found for you upon leaving prison, a small but spacious one bedroom apartment with a separate bathroom, an open planned kitchen that leads into the dining area and the lounge room, with your comfortable couch and overflowing bookcases, which leads onto a small balcony with a view of the city. The decorations are sparse, Spartan; it's mainly just books and a few photographs and Miss Claudette's old blanket that you managed to sneak out of Litchfield that is now thrown over the back of your couch. Polly always looks uncomfortable when she steps through the front door and usually makes a comment about how it feels like she's still visiting you in the visitation room back at the prison, rather than in the outside world, but you like it here. You like the quiet and you like being alone most of the time; it's like your own little SHU, but without the outdated food and your neighbours don't scream at all of hours of the night.

It's comfortable and you're all about being comfortable since you left prison.

It's been just over six years since you walked out of Litchfield's doors, leaving a bunch of familiar but mostly unfamiliar faces behind you. You spent twenty two months in that hell hole; doing your original time of fifteen months with an added seven that you were given after lying on the stand in Chicago and you know you were lucky that you weren't there for longer after all the shit that went down during your stay. You made friends and you made enemies and you broke hearts and got your heart broken, but you kind of wouldn't change any of it, even if you did lose a part of yourself back there behind the barbed wire fences because you found some parts of yourself too, old and new.

But that didn't mean that you weren't happy as hell to leave that place behind; taking nothing with you except for Miss Claudette's blanket and some memories. The only other thing you took away from that place was none other than Nicky Nichols, who you managed to keep in contact with long after your release. The crazy haired inmate had your back in prison and you continued to have hers, even in the outside world, organising a job for her upon release and helping her find a new apartment with the money that her bitch of a mom gave her upon finally leaving Litchfield, healthy and clean. You see her a few times a week for lunch, when she comes by the PoPi store on the Upper East Side, and sometimes you talk about the days back in Litchfield, but usually not and you're more than okay with that. She's your one link to that part of your life, a reminder that it was real and scary and horrible, but also a reminder that you lived through it and came out the other side, stronger and better than before.

At least, you hope that you are better, you certainly feel like you are.

It's been six whole years since you left and you try not to think about it, try not to think about the time that you did and the people that you met and left behind, especially one in particular. It's not until a letter shows up at your door that you're forced back into the past, remembering the reason why your life fell apart in the first place and exactly who was responsible for that.

/

It's a Sunday morning and you wake up to the sound of your kettle boiling somewhere nearby, the shrill noise piercing your sensitive ears after a night full of drinking and dancing. You groan as you roll over in bed, your naked skin sliding against the soft silk sheets, feeling as if the world is spinning out of control and you cling to your pillow in a desperate attempt to hold on. You don't know who is in your kitchen, making coffee at this ungodly hour and you don't remember much of what happened last night, though that's no surprise when Nicky Nichols is in the picture. What you do know is that you came back yesterday morning from a two week trip to Malaysia, one of the many trips that you've taken in the past six years, and your friend had taken you out drinking to celebrate your return as she always did; more of an excuse to drink and party, than to celebrate your actual return.

You blink your gritty eyes open and almost immediately close them again when you are blinded by the light shining in through your bedroom window. You manage to glance at the clock through squinted eyes and find that it is only 9:26am, which is way too early to be awake on a Sunday, especially since you hadn't come home until after four in the morning. But the noise from your kitchen is persistent, forcing you to push your aching body shakily out of bed, choosing only to throw a comfortable robe over your naked skin, rather than going through the ordeal of getting ready for a day that you did not plan to participate in.

You rub your temples as you stumble out of the bedroom, blinking your bleary eyes as you round the corner and into the kitchen, where you find Nicky standing at the counter with a piece of toast hanging from her mouth. She's holding two cups of coffee in her hands and she passes one over the counter to you when she finally notices your appearance through her bloodshot brown eyes. Neither of you say a word, unwilling to break the silence as you both drink from your hot cups of coffee, surely both feeling your years as you begin to feel the caffeine slowly blending in with the alcohol still in your veins, neutralizing the blinding headaches that you both sport like war wounds.

It's Nicky who finally speaks first, giving you a somewhat tired grin over the rim of her coffee cup, her chocolate brown eyes sparkling. "What the fuck happened last night, Chapman? I feel like Red hit me over the headache with one of her rolling pins."

"You happened," you answer tiredly, smiling despite yourself. "You and tequila."

"Ah, tequila, my old friend," Nicky smiles in remembrance, before a frown furrows her brow. "My very, very, very old friend. I'm getting too old for this shit."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that," You chuckle, making your way to the couch and sitting down, though you internally agree with your friend. You were both now in your late thirties, and you were no longer the girl who woke up feeling young and refreshed after a night full of debauchery like you had done in your college years. You feel like you have been hit with a truck.

A brief knock on the door stopped Nicky from replying and you both glance at each other with your eyebrows raised. "You expecting someone, Chapman?"

You shake your head as you slowly stand up from the couch, wondering if Polly had decided to stop by with Finn to welcome you home. You walk to the front door and glance briefly through the eye hole, frowning when you don't find anyone waiting outside your door. You open the door slowly and stick your dishevelled head out into the hallway, looking around for whoever had knocked and find no one, which only confuses you more. It's only when you look down as you're about to close the door that you see the envelope, with only your name written on the front in strangely familiar handwriting.

You pick it up and walk back inside, staring down at the envelope as Nicky comes out from the kitchen to take your place on the couch. You sit down beside her heavily, staring down at the letters of your name which are written in neat, blocky handwriting that you remember from somewhere, but can't quite put your finger on where.

"I thought it was Sunday? No post on Sunday," Nicky comments, glancing at the envelope in your hands as she finishes off the last of her coffee. "Maybe it's your acceptance letter to Hogwarts?"

"Maybe," you smile, though it almost instantly fades when you turn the letter over and find the initials on the back, written on the lip of the envelope in that same neat writing, and you realize with sudden clarity why the handwriting is so familiar.

"Hey, Chapman, what's wrong?" You hear Nicky's voice as if it's from far away, full of concern. "You look like you've sending a fucking ghost, man."

"Fuck," is the only thing you manage to say, as you grip the letter tightly with shaking hands. "Fuck."

"Wha- oh." Nicky leans against you, shoulder to shoulder as she looks at the back of the letter and she suddenly breathes a hollow laugh. "Oh, shit."

You let the letter drop through your fingers to float down to the floor, where you can still see the initials written in black, bold pen, taunting you. The little AV with a love heart scrawled on the lip of the letter leaves your heart thumping in your chest, and you barely acknowledge Nicky's comforting shoulder pat as she stands up.

"I think we need more coffee for this shit," she says as she walks past you and towards the kitchen. "Irish coffee this time, I reckon."

/

It was Valentine's Day when you received the very first letter, in a dark red envelope with those very same initials written in the corner, followed by a small black love heart. It had only been a few weeks since you had returned from Chicago and your anger had been almost overwhelming as you had thrown the letter in the bin, to be followed by more and more as the weeks went by. Every single Tuesday at mail call, your name was called and you would receive your letter, only for you to tear it up as you walked away, letting the tiny pieces fall to the floor for the cleaning crew to pick up after you. You didn't even feel the slightest inclination to read them, to read the words written by the person you had once loved more than anything and who had betrayed you not once, not twice, but more times than you could count.

Fool you once, right? Only, Alex had managed to keep on fooling you and it made you sick to your stomach how fucking stupid you had been. You weren't that naïve girl anymore and you weren't about to fall for any more of Alex Vause's lies and so the letters went unread and eventually, as the months passed and the seasons changed, they came less and less until you thought they had stopped coming at all.

It had been almost six months since you had received your last letter and you couldn't care less, because you were getting out of this place tomorrow and you had already given all your shit away to all your friends that would be staying behind. You had donated the many books you had collected over the years to the outdated library, minus your more racy books which you had split between Nicky and Taystee. All your spare clothes had been given back, except for your jumper which had been given to Morello, after hers had been ruined while working in the greenhouse with Red. There were clothes waiting for you at the front desk, sent in by Polly just over a week ago, who you had finally forgiven after months and months of silence after learning that she was sleeping with your ex fiancé. You were finally ready to leave and there was a mixture of excitement, anxiety and fear mingling in your belly, threatening to make you throw up but you couldn't stop smiling, which only made the other inmates want to throttle you with jealousy but you didn't care.

You were getting out. This was the best damn day of your life.

You jumped to your feet when Bennett stopped outside your cube, wondering if they were letting you go early, even though it was almost eight o'clock at night. Red watched from her bunk with wide, curious eyes, only raising an eyebrow when Bennett simply handed you a letter before telling you that he'd be back in the morning to take you out of this shit hole. You had looked down at the letter, seeing the initials in the corner almost immediately and you had felt your happiness dim, earning a soft sigh from your room mate.

"You should open it, you know," Red had said quietly, with her thick Russian accent as she looked at you from over the tops of her reading glasses. "She won't know how to contact you once you are out, and you might never get a chance again to hear what she has to say."

"I hope so," you replied bitterly, feeling the overwhelming urge to tear up the letter as you sat down on the edge of your bumpy mattress. "Why should I hear what she has to say? She fucked me over."

"True," Red acknowledged with a nod. "But, you don't want to take this out there with you, honey. If you throw that letter away, you're always going to be angry, always going to wonder why, but if you open it… maybe you can get a little peace, no? Maybe she has something's that she needs to say and that you need to hear and there's only one way for you to find out."

The older woman had left then, with one final pat on the shoulder, to visit Nicky before lights out and to give you a little privacy to make your decision. You considered what Red had said seriously, turning the letter over and over in your hands before you finally stopped and sighed. You had to admit that Red was right; that you were sick of holding onto this anger, to this feeling of betrayal and hurt that tore up your insides every time you remembered the woman that had fucked you over. Alex had betrayed you, had hurt you and god, she was the whole damn reason that you were in this place, but you were honestly just sick of holding onto it, holding on to her.

"You gotta let her go," Nicky had told you one day while they were working in electrical, shortly after you had returned from Chicago. "It's going to kill you if you don't, Chapman."

You hadn't been able to let her go then, but maybe you were now, you had thought to yourself as you finally started to open the letter with shaking fingers. It was your last day in prison and maybe, just maybe, you could leave Alex behind with everything else when you started your new life. All the hurt, all the anger, all of Alex, you wanted to leave it behind.

And so you had started reading.

Piper, it said.

I'm so sorry for everything. I know that my track record is shit and I know that I've given you no reason to believe it, but I really do love you. Still.

I'm sorry.

Love,

Alex.

It was exactly as you had expected and yet, not what you had thought at all. It was short and to the point, just like Alex and you couldn't help but smile as you folded the letter back up and slipped it back inside the envelope, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off your heart.

You left the next morning, leaving behind your friends and the place you had called home for the past twenty two months, and also a letter that you had placed carefully in the bin, along with the memories of a woman that you had once known.

/

You pushed open the door to your apartment, struggling as you attempted to juggle the multitude of things in your arms as you kicked close the door behind you. You dropped your keys into the bowl by the door before stumbling towards the kitchen, where you placed your groceries on the counter with a heavy sigh of relief. You opened the paper bag that you had been holding first, pulling out a can of beer and snapping it open before taking a sip and eyeing the rest of the bags that you had somehow managed to carry up the six flights of stairs to your door. You pushed the bag of Thai food to the side, figuring that you could dish it up when Nicky showed up and began to unpack your groceries, pausing briefly in front of the fridge door and staring at the letter that was attached to it, curtesy of Nicky who had put it there almost a week ago.

You hadn't opened the letter, despite Nichols attempts to force you to, and had instead left it on the floor where it had fallen. Nicky had pestered you for a while, before eventually giving up and taking her leave, but not before sticking the envelope to the fridge door with a magnet that you had picked up on your trip a few years ago to Spain.

Ignoring the letter, as you did every other day, you opened the refrigerator and started to put away the things you had picked up from the supermarket on your way home from work. You had barely finished before there was a knock on your door and you smiled as you picked up your can of beer and went to open it. You expected to see Nicky's smirking face when you opened the door, but you were in no way ready to find Alex Vause standing in the hallway outside your apartment, looking exactly as she had almost eight years ago when you last saw her in Chicago.

You immediately closed the door, just on instinct.

What the fuck? You mouthed to yourself silently, as you stood on the other side of the door with your blue eyes wide and your mouth gaping. Your heart seemed to have stopped beating in your chest, leaving you feeling strangely hollow as you stood there silently, frozen in a state of shock. Your hands were shaking as you slowly leant forwards, pressing your ear against the door, only to jump back when a loud voice suddenly sounded from the other side.

"Piper! Come on, I know you're in there now, obviously," Alex's familiar husky voice sounded from the hallway, her tone half upset and half exasperated. "Please, will you just open the door? I just want to talk."

Her voice seemed to jump start your heart, causing it to race and thump painfully against your ribs as you stared at the door with wide eyes. You had half a mind to walk away, to go back to the kitchen to open another beer and wait for either Alex to leave or for Nicky to arrive. You were hungry and you wanted to shower and drink and you didn't want to open the door and talk to the ghost of your past.

But for some reason, that's exactly what you did.

You opened the door slowly, taking the time to look at your ex-girlfriend who was staring back at you just as blatantly. It was true that Alex looked exactly the same as you remembered, with her long dark hair falling over her broad shoulders and in tight black jeans and a leather jacket that reminded you of memories from long ago. But upon a closer look, you could see that time had not left her completely untouched, with small wrinkles beginning to form at the corner of her eyes and around her full lips, but unfortunately, they almost seemed to make her more attractive than before. She looked the same, but older and more mature, with green eyes that were a little bit jaded behind her glasses and lips that were pursed in a straight, nervous line rather than her normal confident smirk.

"Alex," you finally managed to say in a whisper slash hiss, your eyes narrowed with suspicion upon finding her standing in your hallway after almost seven years since seeing her. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm here to see you, obviously," she responded in her normal, sarcastic way, though it wasn't as condescending as it once might have been. "Are you going to open the door and let me in or are you planning on leaving me out here?"

"And why, pray tell me, would I let you inside of my home?" You asked, raising your eyebrow sceptically before frowning in confusion. "How the fuck did you find me anyway?"

"I have my ways," the older woman said, finally letting that familiar smirk pull at the corner of her lips as she shoved her hands in her pockets. "And if you let me in, maybe I'll tell you."

You shook your head in defeat when you finally stepped away from the door, opening it wider to let the dark haired woman inside. You watched her cautiously as she strode down the hallway, her hands still deep in her pockets as she looked around your apartment with bright curious eyes. You gave one final look out into the hallway before closing the door behind you, crossing your arms as you watched Alex stop in front of your many bookshelves, her green eyes gliding fondly over the titles.

"Alex," you finally said after a few minutes of silence, your voice bordering on frustration as the other woman looked over your kitchen counter, opening the bag that contained your dinner with a look of interest. "Why are you here?"

"Thai?" Alex asked, completely ignoring your question as her eyes gazed around the kitchen, pausing on the fridge when she saw the letter attached to it. You cursed Nicky silently as the dark haired woman smirked at the sight before returning her attention to your face. "It looks like you have more than enough for two. Are you expecting someone?"

"I was, so imagine my surprise when I find you outside my door instead," you grumbled, passing the older woman as you strode into the kitchen and grabbed another can of beer. You shot Alex a dark look as she smirked at you over the counter, knowing that you weren't going to get any answers until the other woman decided to give them to you, which could take years in Alex's case.

"Must have been a shock," Alex murmured in response, reaching into the bag of beer and grabbing one before you can even open your mouth to protest. You just shake your head instead as she cracks open the can, taking a small sip as she continues to watch you. This is Alex's way, after all, making herself at home, no matter where she was and thriving in awkward and uncomfortable situations. She was probably having the time of her life while you felt as if you were going to wake up from a dream at any second.

This couldn't be real after all, could it? What kind of person just shows up at someone's door after seven years of no contact anyway?

You hold her gaze evenly from across the kitchen counter, waiting until the dark haired woman finally sighs in defeat and rests her can of beer on the shiny counter top. She runs her finger around the edge of the can in a nervous gesture, before looking up at you with a surprisingly vulnerable gaze.

"You never replied to my letters," she finally says, reaching up to adjust her glasses as you feel your heart begin to beat faster in your chest, due to a mixture of anxiety and anger.

"I never read them," you reply coldly, before shrugging your shoulders. "Except for the very last one, but I left it behind when I left Litchfield, just like I left everything else behind, including you."

Alex looks like she's been slapped in the face, her expression a mixture of sadness and shock and you almost feel bad. Almost. The guilt is almost immediately overwhelmed by all the anger and the hurt and you lean back against your pantry door as you stare at the older woman emotionlessly. You thought that you had left all these negative feelings behind, but it seems as if you had only buried them, just so that they could reappear now, upon seeing the woman that had caused the feelings in you in the first place. It was like a volcanic eruption, the way the lid seemed to suddenly burst off the top of the bottle that you'd been hiding them all in, letting them flow through your veins like molten lava.

It was an explosion and Alex was about to get burnt.

"Seriously, what the fuck did you expect, Alex?" You finally spit after a few moments of silence, ignoring the way that the older woman cringes as your harsh tone. "You really fucked me back in Chicago, so what did you honestly think was going to happen? Did you think that I was just going to let it all go and forgive you, when you were walking out those doors as a free woman while I got another seven months added to my sentence? Did you think I could just forget that you told them that I had lied on the stand, that I had met Kubra? I fucking protected you, just like you asked me to, begged me to, and you fucking betrayed me."

"I know, Pipes, I'm sor-"Alex attempted to apologise, looking surprisingly sincere, but you cut her off. You didn't want to hear it.

"Fuck you, you're sorry," you hiss, your eyes narrowed as you clenched your hands into fists, making the faint white scars on your knuckles stand out, a reminder of your fight with Tiffany. "I fucking loved you, Alex, and you ruined everything. I may have broken your heart, twice, but you threw me into that fucking prison, you lied to me and made me love you and I gave up everything for you! I gave up my life, I gave up Larry, and I lost my job and my friends and everything else, because of you. And then, in Chicago, I put myself on the line again for you, I lied for you and you fucking threw me underneath the bus, again. So, fuck you, Alex. I don't want or need your apologies; all I need is for you to get the fuck out and stay away from me. It shouldn't be too hard, since that's what you've been doing for the past six years, anyway."

There were tears in her eyes, you saw even though she desperately tried to hide them from you. She ran her fingers through her dark hair, breathing out shakily as she looked up at you with watery green eyes, eyes that were pleading with you. It was a painful reminder of that day in Paris, a lifetime ago, the way she was looking at you right now.

"Piper," she whispered, her voice as shaky as her fingers, which were resting on top of the counter. "Please."

"Leave." You said, closing your eyes, feeling drained of emotion, and feeling drained of fucking everything. When you opened your eyes next, Alex was gone, disappearing from your life again without a trace and it was only then that you unclenched your fists, revealing the tremors that were shaking up your insides.

The front door opened suddenly and your head snapped up, expecting Alex's return, expecting her to yell and argue and fight, because Alex was never one to just run way. But it was Nicky, whose eyes were wide with shock as she pulled off her jacket, shaking her head in surprise and disbelief.

"Shit, Chapman," Nicky said as she walked towards the kitchen, practically bouncing with excitement. "You will not guess who I just saw walking down the street."

You sighed as you pulled two cans of beer out of the paper bag, passing one to your friend as you opened the other, taking a long drink before replying. "I bet I could."

/

You end up eating only a mouthful of Thai food before you let Nicky drag you out of the apartment, in much need of more alcohol since you've drunk all the beer. It's less than two hours later that you're slumped back against a chair at the bar around the corner, having just finished what must have been your seventh or eighth drink. Nicky is sitting across from you, watching you with surprising intent, despite the fact that she's been matching you drink for drink, but then again, Nicky had always been able to hold her alcohol better than you. You, on the other hand, are a light weight and it makes you easy pickings for your friend, who is picking the last bit of information out of you, after your recent run in with your ex-girlfriend/mistress/life ruiner (her words, not yours).

"Shit," was all Nicky said when you finally finished, downing the rest of her beer before dropping the glass heavily on the table. "That's some heavy stuff, Chapman."

All you can do is nod dejectedly, sincerely agreeing with your friend, since the situation is more than a little fucked up. The last thing you expected when you woke up this morning was for Alex Vause to walk back into your life in all her glory and you keep on drinking in an attempt to convince yourself that it was all just a bad dream. Because every time you have thought about Alex, you've never let yourself wonder about where she is now, never even considered that she could possibly be somewhere nearby. You'd heard from Polly, months and months after the trial in Chicago that Kubra had never been put away and you had always expected Alex to run for it. Alex's safety had always come first and you had expected for her to make herself the invisible woman, to hide out in Cambodia or Santorini. You knew that she had a nest egg to fall back on, knew that she had money stashed away where the feds would never find it and that she would be able to start over somewhere else.

But now you knew that she was here and worst of all, she knew that you were here and you couldn't fucking forget.

"Why?" You ask suddenly, unaware in your current state that you are talking out loud. "Why is she here? What the fuck does she want from me?"

"I don't know," Nicky answered, with a small furrow between her brows. "You didn't really give her a chance to explain that, after all."

"You think I should have given her a chance? Seriously?" You feel a surge of anger well up towards your friend at her words and she holds her hands up defensively as she shakes her head.

"Chill out, blondie. I never said that," Nicky spoke, dropping her hands slowly back onto the table. "I don't think you should really give her the time of day, god knows that I wouldn't. I'm just saying, whatever chance you had to find out is gone now, I guess."

You apologise quietly for your outburst and Nicky acknowledges your words with a nod, knowing how stressed you are about this entire situation. You both decide to call it a night, since you already have plans to meet up tomorrow for lunch with a few other old friends and Nicky drops you outside your apartment complex with a gentle pat on the back before disappearing down the street. You walk up the stairs to your apartment with exhausted legs, wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed since you're not really fit for anything else in your drunken state. You reach your door finally, pushing it open, immediately kicking off your shoes and throwing your jacket over the back of the couch as you walk towards the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water. You're halfway through the glass when your eyes inevitably move towards the envelope that's stuck to your refrigerator door and you pause.

You think about what Nicky said, about never knowing what Alex wanted to say and you find yourself moving across the kitchen without thought. You take the letter out from underneath the magnet and hold it in your hands, running your finger over your name written in that familiar hand writing. You weren't even slightly curious to read this letter before today, had barely even thought about it before Alex showed up on your door step, but now you can't help but wonder.

You're ripping it open before you even realize what you are doing, unfolding the page to look at the words written on the letter before you, even as your mind is screaming at you to stop. But you're drunk and you can't help yourself as your eyes scan over the words, which are blurring together on the page and making it hard to read.

Dear Piper, it says.

I know that this is fucked up, but I couldn't seem to stop myself from writing this letter. I've been back in this city for three months and already, I'm seeing you everywhere. I see you at the coffee shop across the street from my apartment, at the store where I buy my groceries and you've even walked past me on the street without recognising me.

I keep going to talk to you, but you're always gone before I can reach you.

I need to see you, Piper. I know that we haven't talked in a long time and I know that I fucked up, but I hope you can give me a chance to explain.

Please, think about it.

Love,

Alex.

You're so focused on the words on the page that you don't even hear the front door opening and closing behind you. It's not until you hear the squeak of a floor board that you whip around, the letter still clenched tight in your hands as you find yourself looking at the face of none other than Alex Vause.

"Is this a bad time?" She chuckles huskily, her green eyes flicking between your gaze and the letter that you're still holding.

And if you weren't so damn drunk, you're sure that you would have told her to go fuck herself; you would have yelled and raged like you had hours ago, but all the fight has drained out of you. All you can do is shake your head, leaning heavily on the kitchen counter as you meet her gaze with your suddenly clear eyes.

"Let's talk."