A/N

Here we go again with some delicious Vauseman AU. I'm experimenting this time around with third person POV but I have to keep that first person feel alive so I'm sticking with that in the flashbacks, which are in italics. I hope you guys love this jumping off point. Let me know how you feel about it in reviews as you know I do delight in reading those! Follow the story as I intend to be pretty prompt about posting updates. Who wants to wait around for these girls to get on with the adventures?! Not I, said the fly.

Enjoy!

"To the best damn Prosecutor in the country!"

The table erupts in cheers and clinking glasses as six smiles simultaneously meet their beverage of choice, kicking off the short evening celebration.

She smiles and glances kindly around the circle of admiring eyes. "Seriously, you guys. I'm just the face of this force - you know it doesn't happen without all of us. This is to US!" Her humility is one of a thousand reasons this team works tirelessly behind the demure darling currently correcting her executive assistant, "this is to every one of us."

She makes eye contact with each of her faithful crew around the table and genuinely thanks them for every minute of their efforts. Those countless hours have culminated in reaching a goal they work toward in every case but don't always achieve - the sentencing of a very bad guy to a very long time behind bars.

They'd worked themselves to the bone on this case and though Piper Chapman had given those brilliant closing arguments nearly three months ago, it wasn't until today that the judge delivered his sentence. It was a sweeping win for the Federal Prosecutor and her team. In her mind though, it was more so a win for the country and a win for the thousands of lives that would now NOT be ruined by the devastating Heroin epidemic with which she spends her life at war.

"Boss," her newest intern speaks up after the natural lull following that first collective drink. "I'm pretty new here and this was my first case on the team so I have to ask...how many times have you caused so many tears from the jurors during a close? Does that happen often? Because you had them eating out of your hand!"

"Look, Washington. We all know you're kind of a kiss ass but it can slide this time because the answer is never. I have never seen that many jurors wiping their eyes during a close and I have been doing this a long damn time." Polly Harper, the impeccable and inherently direct Executive Assistant speaks again. The group takes turns sharing quotes from Piper's close and remembering how perfectly she executed the entire monologue.

Piper smiles in receipt of the deserved compliment. She's good - and she knows it. Everyone knows it. So good in fact, she's positioned herself as the most sought after prosecutor in the Sixth District Federal Court of New York. If there's a drug case of any significant profile, the DEA calls her to prosecute.

She's worked hard and long for this level of success. After a short stint in the private sector right out of law school, she has spent all of her nearly 20 year career in district courts. She's worked her way up as a District Attorney, through the ranks to a full blown prosecutor - and a damn good one at that.

She looks around the table quietly observing the banter and good natured harassing happening between her work family. This team has been with her far longer than average, a testament to the kind of leader she is and the kind of culture she has fostered in her professional career.

Polly steers this ship. Piper knows she would be as useless as a screen door on a submarine without the rock solid Executive Assistant keeping her organized and on track - not to mention on TIME.

Her eyes travel to the other side of the table to Tasha and Taystee. She hired the two research assistants at the same time nearly nine years ago when she first achieved the title of Federal Prosecutor. They could find water in the desert. Piper smiles. They would give Google a run for its money.

Washington is the newest face in the crowd. The intern has been working with the team for almost nine months and besides her photographic memory, she brings a wealth of knowledge in the realm of international logistics and law to the mix.

Her input has proven invaluable even in the short time she's been part of the like to give her a hard time saying she's a kiss ass but Piper interprets her approach a bit differently. She sees it as a fresh excitement and eagerness to prove she's worth a spot on the team. While she doesn't have the meeting to offer Washington a full time position scheduled yet, Piper has known for months that the intern has everything it takes to succeed on her team.

Lastly, there's Red. Immigrated from Russia as a teenager, she took an almost immediate interest in the American judicial system. During her interview eight years ago, she told Piper that her interest stemmed from the stark differences between her home country's approach to justice and that of her new country.

Upon taking her current role as a kind of legal historian on Piper's team, she had been studying cases in the federal judiciary library for fifteen years. If a case has been tried in a federal court in the last twenty five years, Red can hit you with the highlights over a tray of vodka shots straight from memory. Her vast knowledge of case history is worth its weight in rubles - and Piper voices her appreciation to her as often as she can.

Looking around the table, her heart swells with pride and gratitude at her lot. Piper gets to work with this incredible collection of women doing meaningful, albeit grueling at times, work. She's lucky, she thinks. In this brief step away from the grindstone, she joins in with the merry crew to celebrate.

It's not her nature to stop and reflect on her success. From her vantage point, there's so much more to be done. But these all-stars around the table help remind her, usually in the way of dragging her from her desk down to their favorite pub, that sometimes she needs to take the win and pop a top over it. So tonight, she does just that.

Her coasting is short lived tonight, though. She's not surprised when Polly stands, giving the team a cheerful pep talk. "Sorry to rain on the parade, ladies. But you know we have a big day tomorrow. The biggest of our days so far. Let's go get some rest and bring our A game bright and early. I'll have final briefing notes in the conference room at 8am sharp. Jury selection begins at 9am."

She turns to Piper with an apologetic smile, "I still need your signature on the list of jury candidates, boss."

Piper rolls her eyes, "You know I hate it when you call me that, Polly."

"Would you prefer 'Ms. Chapman'?" Polly delivers the question in her best (terrible) attempt at a British accent and grins.

"God, no. Let's go." After goodbyes all around, Piper and Polly begin the short walk back to the courthouse.

The main entrance closed hours ago so they use the staff entrance directly off the parking garage. Security at a federal courthouse is tight. The women show their badges to check in with the armed garage guard and walk toward the back of the parking structure. Even the staff entrance requires a swipe of a security badge on the outer door followed by a palm scan for the interior door. A second scan of the badge along with a unique pin code is required for entrance into the elevator which takes staff from the parking garage to the office levels three floors up.

Piper sheds her coat and absent-mindedly places it in the small closet just inside her corner office. She leaves the door ajar as she and Polly are nearly alone on their floor. It's not uncommon for them to be there late, joined only fleetingly by the routine rounds of the building's security team every fifteen minutes.

Sitting at her desk, the tired blonde rubs her temples gently as she brings her focus around for the last task of the day before heading home. Hearing a presence in her doorway, she looks up to see Polly lightly tapping a folder against her open palm.

"You can just leave that with me, Pol. I will review it and email you a scan. You don't need to hang around." Piper smiles as she reaches out for the folder.

Polly narrows her eyes slightly at her boss, "You sure? It's no trouble for me to stay and wait for you."

"No, I insist. I'll have Joe walk me out. We have a big one tomorrow and your usually complex job of organizing my brain will be significantly exacerbated, as you well know. Go get some rest and I'll send the email over within the hour."

"Sure thing, Piper. Get some rest, will you? You're going to need all the energy possible for how totally you're going to own the day tomorrow." Polly gives her boss a parting wave and broad smile. Piper smiles back, grateful again for such an amazing team.

Piper tries to take as many opportunities to let her staff leave as possible. They give her 110% all the time. And God knows, there are plenty of times when leaving early - or at all - is simply not an option. So being conscientious and encouraging them to go when they can is something Piper prioritizes for them.

Herself, on the other hand, she isn't quite so considerate of. She has spent the night on the couch in her office more times than she can count. The bottom drawer in her desk always holds a blanket, basic toiletries and a change of undergarments. She has several full changes of clothes hanging inconspicuously in the back of the coat closet.

She lives and breathes her work. Her dedication to it has left little time in her life for anything else and she has always been perfectly content with that. Now, on the eve of the start of the biggest case of her career, she knows she can't sleep here but that's not to say she isn't tempted. She needs her own bed, her morning routine and as full a night's sleep as is possible given the simmering nerves she always hosts the night before she opens a case.

Flicking open the folder, she begins the review of the forty three names listed in alphabetical order by surname. Randomly selected by a computer from the driver's license database provided by the Department of Motor Vehicles - this is the list of potential jurors.

Piper has carried out this process a total of seventy nine times so far, this being her 80th case in federal court. The defense attorney has received the same list. The two lawyers independently review the list and strike from it any name they have a personal connection with, any name that they feel might provide a conflict of interest or any name they feel will be knowingly or unknowingly partial to the opposite side of the case.

If neither lawyer strikes any names from the list tonight, eight will be randomly removed from the list tomorrow morning and the rest will be shuffled out of alphabetical order, called in to the selection process in which the first twenty five of them will be interviewed by the judge and both prosecution and defense attorneys. Ten will be in a backup queue in the event that any of the twenty five are dismissed for any number of reasons. Ultimately, the defense and prosecution will agree on thirteen names from the interview process to compile the final jury for the trial.

The process of jury selection is critical to the integrity of the case. Each lawyer is meticulous about the culling of the list, searching for any advantage or piece of personal information that might cause a juror to think more favorably of their side. Every available detail is considered. When face to face with the pool of candidates, Piper shines. The list though, isn't much to go on.

Name, age, gender, race, birthplace, driving record - this preliminary review of the pool is mainly to make sure no names jump off the page immediately. Even in a city this size, Piper has had that happen before - several times.

Sometimes it's a prominent figure in the community. Sometimes it's an employee of a company that receives federal grant money. Sometimes it's a personal connection, though that's only happened once when Piper's childhood neighbor appeared on a pool list.

While she gives careful and unique consideration to each name before her, Piper most often passes through these lists with very little feedback to give, saving her adept people-reading skills for the interview piece of the process that will begin tomorrow morning.

Her pen moves steadily down the list, pausing at each entry while she carefully reads the name. Forty one times her pen increments downward with a steady rhythm. Nearing the end of a long and intense day, Piper wills herself to sharpen her wandering focus to the last two names on the list. She never gets to number forty three.

Salt. Sand. Sweat. Sea. My toes and fingertips feel like live wires, flailing without control in overwhelm as every one of my senses is literally assaulted with stimulation. The waves are deafening in my ears as dusk quickly extinguishes the golden hour on our private stretch of Balinese sand.

My nostrils flare in the presence of salty spray and skin as I move steadily in the water - my face in her hair, my body bare against hers. My mouth covers every available surface of her head and face, consuming her. Tasting her. Kissing her. Devouring her.

Leaning back, I allow her to catch me as my chest and face separate from hers. Opening my eyes, I take her in fully and let the other senses dim long enough for this picture to be seared into my mind.

We are waist deep in the Indian Ocean, my legs wrapped around her stomach and arms around her neck. I know it started as two but I'm certain now it's three of her magic fingers that are fabulously buried into me just beneath the waves lapping at my navel. Her other hand keeps a firm hold on my thigh with no indication of relent.

Her breasts are my favorite sexual feature on a normal day but here, glistening and wet on full display for me in the moonrise - the sight of their swells and falls sends shivers down my spine. They are magnificent. She is magnificent.

Her devious eyes watch me survey her as she stops the pulse of her hand to speak, though when she does, growling is the only appropriate term for what she utters.

"Take what's yours, baby…"

We rarely go 24 hours without moaning the other's name at least once, usually many more times. We mostly make sweet, considerate, tender love. Her body is my favorite altar and I offer myself there gratefully and often. She touches me in ways I thought only lived during the deepest of dreams or in fleeting fantasies. The honest truth is that I woke up when I met her. Life before her had been the fantasy and reality with her now is better than anything I could have ever dreamed.

"...I want to watch you dance on me..."

Occasionally, we fuck. It's wild and unpredictable. Usually, it's fast and furious as we let ourselves be overcome with lust and longing. We both appreciate a roughing up from time to time and fighting for dominance as we throw each other around a bit.

"...I want to hear every sound of your pleasure…"

But this is different. It's primal. Maybe it's because we are literally in the middle of nature, stripped down to our nakedness and in direct contact with air, water, earth and most definitely fire. Maybe it's because we are surrounded by the sounds of the sea - allowed to be free with our voices and hold nothing back.

"...Give me everything you've got…"

I've never felt so free. I trust her completely and let go. There's no thinking - only feeling and responding to exactly what my body demands. I ride her feverishly, knowing she will keep steady the frame I cling to. I moan with abandon, joining the waves around us in swells and sighs. Fractions of her name occasionally fall from my lips but I'm mostly aware of the deep resonance rising from my core to escape in guttural groans and cries of indulgence as I shamelessly take what I need from her.

Her fingers respond to my aching as if she's part of me. Soothing, sliding, serenading the needs she feels in me as she brings me to the edge of my resistance. I take her with a fervor bordering on violence. But there's no malice in my railings against her body. This is unbridled and invited passion. And she is everything I need.

"... Come for me, baby..."

I hear her final encouragement - her final demand - faintly as my world explodes into white and heat. I won't know what I said or what I did until later when I ask her to describe it in detail. Hearing her tell me about what it looks and sounds like when I come for her is near the top of my list of most arousing things.

For now, I lose myself in the power of climax. Shouting into the sea, I'm blissfully defenseless against the tidal crash of revelry. I writhe against her body and drag every ounce of pleasure from her fingers inside me and her mouth against my chest. I pull wildly on fistfuls of hair and feel myself buck against her in the delightful agony appearing just as that glorious swell slowly subsides.

Returning to my senses in a sweet and salty mess of panting. Heaving. I mutter her name through a mix of breath and sated moans against her open mouth.

"Alex."

A crippling pain in her right hand violently pulls her mind to the present. Piper's grip on the pen during the wandering of her thoughts has been so tight, her hand cramps around it. Groaning, she rubs the junction between her thumb and first finger in an attempt to ease the screaming muscle. Her eyes burn with a wild, uncaged rush of emotion.

She counts backward from ten, desperately trying to calm the similar screaming in her mind at what this means. Her breath hitches and stalls in her lungs as she reels back to the reality of her present circumstance.

She is obligated to strike the name at number forty two. She is LEGALLY obligated. To sign her name at the bottom of this list without doing so would not only jeopardize her case, it would jeopardize the career she's worked to build. It would jeopardize the integrity of the team she leads. It could put her in contempt of court. It could result in hefty fines and most likely prison time. It could be the end of everything she cares about.

Number forty two. Alexandra Pearl Vause. She hasn't read that name in decades. She hasn't uttered it aloud since she walked away from the woman she loved almost as much as life itself. It's been more than twenty years yet in an instant, the reality of every sight, sound and smell of the force that is Alex Vause takes her breath away.

The chaos unleashed in her by a single glance at it on the page after so many years is more than enough evidence for Piper to put a bold black line straight through it. And yet, she hesitates.

Piper looks up to the ceiling of her office, closes her eyes tightly and releases a long, steady exhale. She looks straight ahead before opening her eyes. The storm in them has calmed to a gentle roll of deep blue waves.

"There's no way she makes top twenty five, let alone the final thirteen," Piper rationalizes to herself. "Fuck you and your gin joint, Bogart….."

Taking the pen in her hand, she scrawls her signature at the bottom of the page and walks to the printer before changing her mind. She types in Polly's email address as the recipient for the scan and closes her eyes again as she comes straight up to the point of no return, her finger hovering over the green button that will seal her fate.

"Fuck you, Alex!" she groans aloud as her finger drops.