Chapter Text
Vera returned home from work rather late. It had been a long day. Two prisoners had escaped: Joan Ferguson and Franky Doyle. Actually it had been a long week. She had found out Jake had been working with Joan all along. And for what? Power? Money? Because he didn't care about her or love her? Was this all some kind of game to him like it was to Joan? Vera thought back to the way Joan had taunted her, telling her how she and Jake just laughed about her. He was nothing more than a pawn, a puppet in Joan's schemes. She had tried hard to fight back against Joan with verbal jabs and making sure the woman would never get out for self defense with Bea Smith. The sad and unfortunate thing was that Vera knew deep down it was self defense. Bea had gone after Joan. Vera had thought Bea would only get a confession for Joan's crimes. I was so wrong. How naive am I to think that's all Bea would have done? This is partially my fault.
Vera poured herself some wine and took off her heels, trying to relax. It was lonely now without Jake. She was so angry and disgusted with him, and very hurt. Joan was almost predictable in her need to retaliate, so that much Vera expected, but with Jake she couldn't have foreseen this. Although now that she thought about it, all those times he was with Joan. He was with her the most. It was right under her nose. How could she not see it? She was stupid for not seeing it sooner.
Joan Ferguson. They had a professional relationship for a while; a friendship. Although she was afraid to admit that it could be more than that. Afraid to admit to herself why she felt so drawn to the woman, even in her anger. The woman she both still deeply admired and hated. Hate was such a strong word... for someone to hate someone else that much you'd have to have had some feelings for them. Some kind of caring for what once was that she had felt between her and Joan. They say the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. She was clearly not indifferent. Was love something she felt? Was that why she also hated Joan at the same time? Because she both loved and hated her? Two very passionate feelings... Lately it felt more like she hated Joan. It was easier to hate her than think about their complicated relationship. It was easier to feel hate than love, easier to feel hate when you're hurting. The woman had ruined her life and countless other lives. Yet, here Vera was, still going out of her way in the last few weeks to talk to Joan, even if it meant trading insult for insult.
However, there was none of that today or yesterday. She had been shaken watching as the prisoners lynched the woman. Everyone wanted her dead. It was disgusting and disturbing how Channing could even suggest that no one go in the yard, even before that noose showed up. She knew he hated Joan, but she didn't think he'd be that unprofessional.
With the exception of Linda Miles who was being held hostage out in the yard, no one was willing to go and help Joan. Despite everything Joan had done, Vera couldn't allow her to be killed. She wanted to see justice served, for the woman to face the crimes she committed, but not murdered.
Vera covered her face, rubbing it as she still had the haunted look of Joan in her mind, beckoning her behind the glass. Joan had looked broken and vulnerable and for one moment she wondered if she saw the real woman behind the mask, but it was hard to tell with Joan sometimes. The woman was always planning, always looking to manipulate. She had been shocked when Joan thanked her for saving her life.
Vera cared. She would admit that much. Despite everything Joan had done, she still cared. She was still cautious with Joan even after the woman told her “thank you” and she wasn't sure if she'd ever fully trust the woman again. She had made her powerless. The irony that Joan had worked to bring her down as Governor, and she would have been the one to protect Joan if she were still in the position. She couldn't now, and this was a helpless feeling. And now Joan had escaped. She was almost partially glad she did. Joan wouldn't be killed by the women and she wouldn't be at the prison anymore. Vera doubted with Joan's skill and cunning ways that she would ever be caught. Vera resigned herself in thinking the woman was out there somewhere, probably plotting revenge against those who she felt wronged her.
Vera felt tears in her eyes and she tried to blink them back. Vera had been one of those people. If she was completely honest with herself, if she looked deep down, she could see that in some way she had actually done wrong to the woman. Joan had done wrong to her as well, but Vera knew she was not completely innocent in her own actions. If she hadn't let Bea out of the prison, none of this would have happened. If she had just allowed Joan to come back possibly as Governor and just dealt with that, then they wouldn't be in this mess they were in now.
Vera was better than this, at least she thought she was. Apparently she had learned much more from Joan than she ever thought. She wasn't like her, but then there was a part of her that was similar to her, even in small ways. Joan had been right that night she told her this at her house during dinner. That night seemed so long ago. They were rather similar. Perhaps that's why there was still an affinity with Joan that she felt. There was nothing more she could do now because Joan was gone. Channing hadn't even worked hard to find the woman, that's how much he wanted Joan gone.
Despite her initial wariness with Joan, there was still so much left unsaid between them, and there was a part of her that wished she had been given more time. Joan was still human and that moment behind the glass had shown her just how much.
Vera finished a second glass of wine and felt more relaxed. It was after midnight. She should just go to sleep. She went into her bedroom and changed into her pajamas. She brushed her teeth and stared at herself in the mirror. Vera thought that she looked like she had aged a bit, seeing what looked like new lines on her face. She didn't want to look at herself anymore. Everything in her life was a mess.
Vera wearily got into bed. She was alone again. It was just as well. Perhaps she didn't deserve to be happy in this life. Sometimes the only person she could trust and count on was herself.
She resisted the urge to look under her bed. The real monster had been the man she shared her bed and home with. It was silly to continue that ritual now. She shook her head and turned on her side. She would not cry over him.
“Fucking pathetic arsehole...” She mumbled into her pillow.
Vera tried to sleep but she kept tossing and turning. The image of Joan hanging crossed her mind repeatedly, the desperate feeling she had when she gave the woman CPR. It wasn't what she had in mind when she dared to ever indulge her fantasies about the woman. Such fantasies that confused her over time, that started sometime after Joan had become Governor of the prison. Vera used to think the fantasies were because she worked so closely with the older woman, and because Vera was a bit sexually inexperienced. She had pushed them down for a while, but every so often she had them and they made her feel a little fucked up, but she couldn't explain the attraction she had. That's what she had... an attraction. How else to explain why she still spent any time with the woman while in prison? She could have sent an officer to only speak to Joan most of the time. But it was more than attraction wasn't it? She felt deeper feelings for Joan, otherwise she wouldn't have wasted so much energy with her. The woman took up rent in her head more times than she was comfortable with.
Vera tried not to think about it. Joan was gone. She closed her eyes and tried to push the thoughts of her hanging and her haunted look behind the glass out of her mind. But the look in Joan's eyes and her voice and words wouldn't leave her alone. “I just wanted to say thank you. Why did you do it?”
Vera sighed and tried not to cry when she thought of that moment. Joan had thanked her. Words she didn't think she'd ever hear. Why did she do it? I did it because how could I not? I saved you because I needed to, because I wanted to. Because I couldn't let you die in front of me. I couldn't let you die when I still have so much to say to you.
She wiped the tears from her eyes. “I'm sorry Joan,” she whispered. It took about an hour but she soon fell into a restless and dreamless sleep.
Vera was jarred awake from a loud sound. She was half awake and didn't know what it was. She blearily looked around, hearing the noise again. What was that?
She looked at the time. It was 3am. Vera became more alert as she listened to it. Someone was banging on her front door.
Who the fuck could that be at this hour?
Vera slowly got out of bed and walked quickly down the hall. She quietly crept closer to the door. She couldn't see who it was. Vera knew she shouldn't open it because it was so late. It was dangerous to do so but then the banging became more persistent. She opened the door and gasped.
Joan stood on her doorstep, dressed in her teal tracksuit, covered in what looked like a lot of dirt. Her hair was tangled and wild. She looked paler than she'd ever seen her before. Her eyes were wide and appeared frightened. Vera was so shocked she didn't know what to say. Joan seemed to stare right through her for a minute, almost as if she wasn't sure who she was looking at before her eyes started to focus on Vera's.
“Vera,” she rasped. “I-I um... I need help. Please,” Joan said in a low and hoarse voice.
“Joan! Oh, my God! I don't know what's going on. What happened to you?”
“Vera... please... I just need—I need help,” she said and her voice shook with what sounded like fear and panic.
Vera took a deep breath and looked around outside. “All right. I'll let you in.” She grabbed Joan's arm and felt the taller woman trembling slightly, and she didn't know what had happened to her, but whatever it was, it had left Joan very shaken and frightened. Vera felt sympathy for the woman who appeared fragile and broken.
No matter what's happened between us, I will not turn her in now. Joan Ferguson won't be hurt under my watch.