Footnote

Title: Footnote
Author: Lyn27
Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Bad Girls and all its characters are property of Shed Productions, a division of Shed Media Group, plc. The author implies no ownership of these characters. They are being used solely and without permission to entertain and/or torture you with varying degrees of humor, angst and general manipulation of your emotional state. Similarly this applies to any copyrighted fictional characters either from literature, broadcast media or film. No animals were harmed during the creation of this fiction, although the Yorkshire terriers living in my house are on borrowed time. Enter at your own risk and please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop. Return your seatback and tray table to their normal upright position. In the event of extreme angst, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device.

I am happy to accept constructive feedback as it will improve my writing skills. Please use email or private message for extensive comments.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

This story was requested by ‘H&N4ever’ via the Help Haiti Blog. She wanted a short story that took place, for the most part, in the library of Larkhall. So, I decided to write a ‘footnote’ – a missing scene, if you will, from Series 3, which takes place after Nikki finds out about Thomas Waugh and Helen.

And it goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway – a HUGE thanks has to go to red card and SG, for all their help in the beta department. You two are absolutely fantastic!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Footnote


It was raining – again. Buckets fell from a sky so dark that it appeared to be night instead of day. Weather forecasters spouted that clear skies were just around the corner, but as Helen Stewart drove to HMP Larkhall that morning, even if the sun had pushed its way through the black clouds, her day would not have brightened a single watt.

A week or so earlier, a non-descript visitor had entered the gates of the prison, and was led to the visitor’s room, where they hugged and kissed their loved one, chatting and giggling about this and that, until it was time to leave. The only problem was, when they walked out of the gates, they left something behind … the flu. Within a week, inmates and staff began to fall like flies, and the infirmary filled to beyond capacity while the officer’s lounge emptied almost as quickly.

Leaving Larkhall only a few hours earlier, to go home for a quick shower and a change of clothes, she was now making her way back. Parking in the nearest space to the entry gate, she took a deep breath and made a mad dash through the watery onslaught of Mother Nature.

Once inside the prison walls, she pushed her wet hair out of her face and unlocked and locked several gates as she made her way towards the officer’s lounge. Passing the servery, she looked through the bars and waved at the women behind the counter. Di Barker and Barbara Hunt had volunteered to become chief cooks and bottle washers, and for the better part of three days, they had prepared soup, tea and juice for every inmate on G-Wing. Since Karen Betts and Jim Fenner were among the first to fall victim to the influenza, as Governing Governor, Helen had made the decision to relax the structured rules of the prison. Left with only a handful of healthy staff members, she had breathed a small sigh of relief when Di volunteered to assist Barbara, while Gina Rossi agreed to help those in the infirmary.

As she passed an open gate, Di Barker called out her name and she stopped, watching as the guard came to doorway carrying a white pastry box.

“What’s this?” she asked as Di handed her the box.

“I called a friend and had her bring them to the gate. I thought we could do with something more than servery food.”

“How did they get inside?” she asked, knowing that there weren’t enough guards to allow such a thing.

Di Barker blushed and looked over her shoulder towards Barbara Hunt. “I didn’t think she’d go over the walls, ma’am.”

Helen smiled weakly. Leeway had been given to both the prisoners and the guards for the past week. Most of inmates were too sick to care whether their cell doors were locked or open, and guards, normally wearing in HMP uniforms, now walked the wing in jeans and sweaters, having run out of clean uniforms a few days earlier.

In the lounge, she found Sylvia Hollamby with her feet propped up on the coffee table, happily snoring away. If it had been another day and another time, Helen would have exploded, but Hollamby, along with Mark Waddle, Di Barker and Gina Rossi, were the only staff she had left. Latitude came in many forms; Bodybag taking a quick kip in the lounge was just one of them.

The dumpy woman stirred as Helen placed the box of pastries on the table, and when she opened her eyes to see the acting Governing Governor standing in front of her, she quickly dropped her feet to the floor and began straightening her clothing.

“Sorry, ma’am. It’s just we’ve been putting in some long hours …”

“I know Sylvia,” Helen responded as she walked past, placing her hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “Anything happen while I was gone?"

“No, ma’am. Other than the sneezing, hacking and their god-awful moaning … it’s been a quiet night.”

+++

She stood at the landing, looking towards the upper levels and tried to remember when she had ever heard G-Wing so quiet. Even in the stillness of night, there would always be a prisoner who refused to remain quiet, but today, the only sounds were of the storm that loomed outside the prison windows and an occasional cough coming from behind one of the dozen doors in her view.

She held two flashlights, and as Mark Waddle approached with an empty servery cart, she handed him one. The storm had gotten progressively worse throughout the morning. The thunder had slowly built, and with each loud rumble, the stone walls of the prison seemed to shake. Twice already, the lights of the old jail had flickered and dimmed as a blinding flash of lightning cracked in the atmosphere.

“So, how they doing?” she asked as he took the torch.

It was lunchtime and as he had pushed the cart from cell to cell, he hadn’t gotten many that asked for food. Ladling out soup for those that could keep it down, he replaced empty thermoses with ones filled with hot tea, felt foreheads for fever, administered aspirin and repeated his rounds on each level. It wasn’t what he signed on for when becoming a member of Her Majesty’s Prison Service, but a flu epidemic has a way of re-writing the rules.

“A few more are eating now, but it’s slow going, that’s for sure,” he replied, placing the torch on the cart. “Do you think we’re going to lose power?”

“I have no idea …” she began, but her words were stopped by a clap of thunder so loud that they both jumped.

Several seconds passed before she grinned and said, “It’s better safe than sorry, don’t you think?”

He nodded in reply, pushing the cart towards the servery when he stopped and said, “Oh, by the way, Wade is asking to go outside.”

“Outside! Is she crazy?”

“I can’t blame her. She’s one of the few that isn’t sick, and she’s been stuck in her cell for days.”

Helen’s shoulders fell. She knew that Nikki hadn’t been out of her cell and she knew the reason why. It was easy for her to avoid Helen in a prison full of women, but with halls emptied by sickness, to walk out of her cell now would mean that she’d see Helen … and it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Pulling the clipboard from under her arm, she scanned the pages and then looked at Mark. “I’ll go talk to her.”

She climbed the grated steel treads and walked towards the cell that held the woman that had changed her life. Outside the green door, she paused for a second before she tapped on the frame and walked inside.

“Hiya, Nikki.”

She knew she was there before Helen walked into the cell, so looking up to acknowledge her presence was unnecessary, and even though it would appear she was rude, Nikki Wade didn’t care. For two weeks, the echo of Fenner’s words had haunted her. For two weeks, the knowledge that the woman she loved more than life itself now slept with another had robbed her of sleep. For two weeks, no matter how hard she tried, Helen Stewart had invaded her mind like the epidemic that had invaded Larkhall, but no amount of food, drink or aspirin would ever take away the pain of her broken heart.

“Mr. Waddle says you want to go outside.”

Nikki glared in her direction and for a split second, their eyes met, but those of dark brown looked away, and when she spoke, her words were filled with anger. “It’s my job and I want to do it!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s raining it’s arse off out there.”

Nikki stood, taking two long steps until she was within inches of Helen. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been banged up in this cell for three fucking days and I’m not sick!”

Helen pulled back. The invasion of her space was slight, and with others it would have gone unnoticed, but Nikki was not like any other, and Helen, no matter how hard she tried, could not deny it.

“Well, you can’t go outside.”

“Fine!”

Nikki turned and strode to the window, staring through the dirty panes of glass at the storm looming outside. Helen watched as she lit a cigarette, and even the smoke that curled over her head appeared to take on an anger all its own.

“You can’t go outside …”

“You’ve already said that!” she shouted.

“Can I finish?”

“We’re already finished … or have you forgotten?”

Helen winced at the pain of the words, and she let out a long breath as she walked to join her at the window.

“There was a shipment of books delivered to the library yesterday. If you want something to do … they need to be unpacked.”

+++

Opening the last carton, Nikki glanced at the stacks of books on the table and scratched her head. Although the room where she stood was called a library, until this moment it seemed to be only a room that held books. Volumes deemed by the Home Office to be suitable for inmates, most of the editions that lined the shelves were either classics written decades before her time, or novellas purchased only for their price and not their contents. Stacked and sorted on the metal shelving, they permeated the room with the mustiness of their age and their use. She studied the piles of new books, cocking her head to one side as she read the glossy covers, not yet torn or scratched by careless hands. Two Winterson’s, the complete works of Jane Austen and six new gardening books had been added, along with books on history, geography and dozens of paperbacks containing fiction written within the last few years. She opened one of the gardening how-to’s and slid into a chair, casually scanning the pages and forgetting, for a moment, the pain in her heart.

Helen stood in the doorway and watched her – she couldn’t help it. She was wearing the oversized white shirt that Helen loved so much. Casual and wrinkled, most would think it was sloppy, thrown on due to lack of other clothes, but for Helen, it was anything but. She liked the way it hung on Nikki’s slender frame and she knew that underneath, she would be wearing a tight vest. She always did with that shirt – Helen knew it. Helen paid attention to things like that. The jeans were her ‘baggy pair’, as Helen had named them. One pair was tight, and Nikki’s long legs would be hugged by the denim that was faded and soft; the other pair – this pair – wasn’t overly baggy. Actually, they weren’t baggy at all, just a little looser in the seat. Helen didn’t like this pair half as much as the other.

A bellowing clap of thunder, followed by a vibrant flash of light, caused both women to jump and then the lights flickered and sputtered and it was dark.

“Shit!” Nikki said angrily.

A faint sound caused her to turn, and she held her hand up to block the light of the torch as it momentarily blinded her.

“Sorry,” Helen said in a whisper as she cast the light towards the floor.

“Helen?”

“Yeah.”

Nikki let out a disgusted sigh. “Time to take me back to my cage, is it?”

Before she could respond, the overhead lights groaned and awakened and they blinked in unison at the brightness. Having not paid any attention when Helen had visited her cell earlier that day, Nikki now found it impossible to look away. Gone was the normal power suit, professional clothes designed to be worn by Governing Governors. Gone was the casual attire, worn by a Lifer’s Liaison or a woman relaxing in her home. Today, she wore jeans of faded blue, deliciously snug and straight-legged; they added a bit of normalcy to the woman she wished was still a part of her life. There was so much she didn’t know and there was so much she had never seen, but seeing Helen standing there, looking normal in a burgundy sweater with sleeves pushed up, made her heart ache and her body pulse. Did love really have to hurt this much?

“You’ve got some time, if you need it,” Helen replied.

Nikki glanced at the clock on the wall and then back at Helen. “I should have been locked up twenty minutes ago.”

“Well, we’re being a little lax on the rules due to the circumstances,” she replied. She shut the door and walked over to the table, placing the torch down as she scanned the stacks of books.

“So, is there anything you like?” Helen asked, nodding towards the piles.

When no response was given, Helen looked up and found Nikki staring back at her, her head cocked to one side and the slimmest hint of amusement in her eyes.

Swallowing hard, she turned back to the books and thumbed through the pages of one while she tried to squelch the blush she knew was on her cheeks.

“Did you buy all of these for me?”

Helen closed her eyes, realizing that her attempt to provide Nikki with new reading material was apparently quite transparent.

“By the amount, it appears you think I won’t get my appeal.”

“No!” Helen exclaimed. “I just wanted to make sure you had something to read, that’s all.”

“Sure.”

“Nikki, you’re going to get your appeal. I know you are. I was just trying to give you something to occupy your time … to keep your mind off it.”

“Are these books supposed to take my mind off you, too?”

Her shoulders fell and inwardly, she winced at the pain she knew she had caused. “I don’t think we should talk about this.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because you’re angry.”

“And what … you don’t think I have a right to be?” Nikki shouted. “That’s it, isn’t it? As long as I’m a prisoner here, I don’t have any rights. I’m not supposed to feel or to care or to hurt. Is that it, Helen? Am I supposed to just accept all of this shit and move on … like you did?”

“Please don’t do this …”

“Do what – tell you that I’m angry? Tell you how much I was gutted when Fenner told me about Waugh. Tell me, Helen, how come you can shag Thomas, but the first time I think about putting my hand down another woman’s pants, you send her away?”

“Caroline was …”

“I know what she was, goddamn it! But what about the next one or the one after that? Are you going to send them all away? You and I are over; you made that perfectly clear by fucking that man! But you’re not the only one that can use someone like that. When I get out of here, Helen, I’m going to bed as many women as I can, because I need to get the taste of you off of me. I need to get you out of my head and my heart, so when you are lying under him, pretending to enjoy what he’s doing – remember I’ll be doing the same thing … but I’ll be enjoying it!”

She had never slapped someone before that moment, and as soon her hand connected with Nikki’s face, she regretted it.

“Nikki … Nikki … I’m sorry …”

She felt her face, felt the burn of the slap that turned her cheek red and she smiled. “I guess that comes under the heading of lax rules, now doesn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean …”

“What didn’t you mean, Helen? Was it those words you spoke in the art room? Or how about the ones in the courtyard or in my cell? Or better yet, how about the ones you moaned when I made you come … did you mean those? Tell me, Helen … does he make you feel the way I did? Does he make you use those words? Does he make you feel?”

She needed to get away, to get out of this room and distance herself from the passion that was Nikki Wade, so she ran to the door, but before she could open it, she found herself being spun around and pressed against the wooden surface.

“Tell me!” Nikki said with a scowl as she held Helen’s wrists tight.

“Please …”

“Tell me he makes you feel!”

“Nikki …”

“Tell me!”

Her mind was spinning and her heart was racing. She wasn’t afraid of Nikki, but she was terrified of the feelings she couldn’t deny, and wouldn’t accept.

“Please don’t make me …”

“Goddamn it, Helen … tell me he makes you feel like I did!”

“I can’t …” she said in a ragged whisper. “I can’t.”

In an instant, Nikki’s mouth descended on hers. The kiss was punishing and hard, meant to hurt, meant to recreate what they had … and that’s exactly what it did. Helen lost herself in the taste of all that was Nikki. The fullness of her lips, the warmth of her breath as it brushed against her cheeks, the flavor of cigarettes and the softness of a tongue, forcing its way inside, turned Helen into someone she had only been once before. The memories of that night came rushing back, and when Nikki pulled the sweater from her body, and her hands greedily cupped her breasts, Helen became who she so desperately wanted to be.

Pushing the oversized shirt to the floor, she tugged the vest from Nikki’s jeans, and when she felt the smooth skin underneath, she moaned. Their lips met again and again, each pummeling the other with all they had, making statements of possession with every plunge of a tongue. They separated for an instant, and Helen gasped for air when she felt the clasp of her bra being released, and desire flowed from her body.

“Oh God …” she said in a whisper as Nikki’s hands found her breasts again, tweaking and rubbing against nipples so hard that each pinch caused a pulse, and when her mouth covered one, sucking it hard and long, Helen grabbed her by the hair and held her firmly in place.

When she awoke that morning, the idea of ever having Helen Stewart again was unimaginable; but now, in the musty library of Larkhall prison, Nikki wasn’t only to have Helen, she was going to own her. Like the night they had become lovers, once again, they ignited in each other an inferno of passion that could not be extinguished by prison walls or misguided love affairs. Sliding her hand south, when she cupped Helen’s sex through the denim, the throaty growl that escaped her lips drove Nikki wild. Ripping open the snap and forcing the zipper open, she plunged her hand inside, and when she felt the soaked silk of Helen’s knickers, the breath escaped her lungs.

She pulled away, just far enough to see the heat in Helen’s eyes, and as the hazel-green orbs stared back at her, she pushed the silk aside and plunged into the wetness. She watched in awe as Helen’s eyes closed and the Scot’s hips began to flex instinctively against the glorious intrusion. Again and again, she stroked her lover, watching in amazement as she took her to a place, she now knew, no one else ever could. Hard and then soft, her fingers worked magic on Helen’s inner walls, and Nikki pushed the jeans to the floor, allowing Helen the freedom to open herself and she did it unabashedly.

Both were out of breath and the room, although normally cool, now felt hot and thick with the humidity of uncontrolled desire. She knew it was happening; she remembered that low purr far down in Helen’s throat when climax was imminent and she pushed harder, curling her fingers inside while her tongue again plundered Helen’s mouth, and within seconds, Helen cried out as the orgasm swept over her.

Gasping for air, she waited until the contractions stopped and then she removed her hand and took one step back. Helen opened her eyes and reached for her, but Nikki pushed her hand away.

Confused, Helen said, “I want to touch you.”

Nikki shook her head. “No.”

“But you must be … I mean …”

“I am.”

“Then why won’t you let me …”

“Because I want you to remember this,” Nikki said as she loosened her zipper and slipped her hand inside her own jeans.

Wide-eyed, Helen watched as Nikki began to pleasure herself, and when she reached for her again, Nikki pressed her forearm against Helen’s chest and pushed her hard against the door.

“Watch,” she demanded.

Nikki knew it wouldn’t take long; she was soaking wet and had been close to climax several times and now, in front of Helen, who was gazing at her in stunned curiosity, she brought herself to release. Her desire overflowed and coated her hand, soaking through the cotton and the denim in an instant, and the moan that escaped her lips was untamed; the sound of it caused Helen’s body to pulse.

In silence, Helen stood on wobbly knees as Nikki brought herself to orgasm, and in all of her life, Helen had never seen something so pure or so erotic. To watch, but not participate, was foreign to her and even though, at the particular moment, she hadn’t a clue why Nikki had done what she had done, it didn’t seem to matter. The ability for someone to allow another to see them at their most vulnerable took strength, a strength that came to Helen only when she was in the arms of Nikki Wade.

Her breathing now under control, she opened her eyes and looked back at Helen. Dropping her hands, she zipped her trousers, snapped them closed and picked up her clothes from the floor. Grabbing Helen’s bra and shirt, she pushed them into her hands and then turned her back to dress herself. In silence, they clasped, buttoned, zipped, straightened and primped until all seemed normal and then Nikki turned around.

“I’d like to go back to my cell now, Miss.”

Helen’s head snapped back, hearing the condescension in Nikki’s voice. Confused, she stared back, unable to think of something to say.

“Is there a problem, Miss?”

“What the hell are you doing, Nikki? Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what, Miss?”

“Goddamn it, Nikki … we just made love …”

“No, we didn’t.”

“What?”

“I made love to you, Helen … because I love you and I can admit it. But you didn’t make love to me … now did you?

“I tried, but you wouldn’t let me. You wanted me to watch instead … so I did.”

“Tell me that you love me.”

“Nikki …”

“Tell me that you love me.”

“Nikki, please …”

She sighed and shook her head. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Utterly confused, Helen whispered, “No, I don’t.”

“Well, then, let me explain it to you, shall I?” Nikki said as she leaned against the table. “I wouldn’t allow you to make love to me because I wanted to make sure you remember how I look at that particular moment of pleasure. And when you’re fucking Thomas Waugh, I want you to know that somewhere out there, beyond these bloody walls and this bloody life, there will be a woman who will make me feel that way again. It may not be in a year, or even two, because the love I feel for you is so bloody strong, it’s hard just to breathe sometimes, but eventually, I will forget it … just not as easily as you did.”

Her dark brown eyes were filled tears and her voice was shaky, but she stood tall and glared back at the woman she loved. She knew her words were brutal, the sting of them worse than any slap she could have given, and her heart broke to see the pain in Helen’s eyes. It was a last-ditch, feeble effort made in hopes of forcing Helen to admit something … and it hadn’t worked. And she wanted to die.

“Now, take me back to my cell.”

+++

They walked in silence down the corridors that would lead them back to Nikki’s cell. They walked past the servery and the sounds of Di and Barbara cleaning and prepping for the next day, and past the officer’s lounge, where Bodybag lay asleep in the chair with her feet, clad in black support shoes, propped on the table like they had been that morning. Mark Waddle stood sipping coffee at the window and he nodded as they strode past; Helen grinned weakly, but Nikki did not look up. They walked up the stairs, Nikki first and Helen following, the latter doing her best not to watch the hips swaying in front of her, and when they got to her cell, Helen unlocked the door so Nikki could enter.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” she whispered as Nikki strode past.

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t give me what I want.”

Nikki began to push the door closed, but Helen stopped it with her foot a few inches before it would latch.

“So what happens now?” Helen asked.

Half-heartedly, Nikki chuckled and then said, “Don’t worry, Miss – what happened today was the last of it. I’ll be the obedient prisoner and you’ll be the stalwart Governor, just as it should be. Since most believe we’re friends, we’ll continue along that line until one or the other of us leaves this place. Will that work for you?”

“Is that what you want?”

Exasperated and on the verge of tears, Nikki opened the door and looked right and left before pulling Helen into her cell. Their lips met slowly, cautiously and once the kiss began, neither wanted it to end, for they both thought it would be their last. Nikki pulled away first, and taking Helen by the shoulders, she spun her around and guided her back out the door.

She hadn’t intended to say another word, but when Helen turned and she saw those beautiful eyes filled with tears, hope won out again.

“You want to know what I want?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes.”

“I want to hear you say that Thomas is gorgeous … and that’s he everything a woman could want in a man. And then I want to hear you say that you don’t want a man … you want me. Say those words to me, Helen, and I’ll be yours forever.”

And then, Nikki shut the door; she shut it on her cell, on her hopes, on her dreams and on Helen. She would walk through the rest of her days at Larkhall being the perfect prisoner; she would smile falsely when they met in the corridors and even offer a brief conversation if the situation required it. But that night, as they lay in their separate beds, they cried themselves to sleep, neither knowing that, in a few short months, one would finally have the strength to say the words the other desperately needed to hear.



The End