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Lou frowned as the report came through—Pat Kerrigan had reportedly attacked the new arrival, Angela Robbins, out of nowhere. It didn’t make sense. Pat wasn’t the sort to lash out unprovoked; Lou knew that better than most. She turned to the officer filling her in, jaw set. “Right. I’ll speak to Kerrigan myself, then I’ll escort Robbins down to medical.”
She headed straight for G-Wing, the familiar hum and clatter wrapping around her as she walked through the atrium and up the stairs to the top landing—the Three’s. She rapped her knuckles gently against Pat’s cell door before stepping inside.
“What happened with Robbins?” Lou asked, keeping her voice steady, though her eyes held that quiet concern she couldn’t quite hide.
Pat was perched on the edge of her bed, but she stood quickly, jaw tight, and started pacing the small space. “That frigging nutter attacked me, that’s what happened.”
Lou rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite to it. “That much I gathered, Pat. I meant—explain it. Walk me through how it started.”
Pat sighed, shoulders sagging. “After lunch she followed me up the stairs, started mouthing off—making remarks about what I am. I told her I’m happy with who and what I am and she could piss off. Next thing she’s knocking my stuff clean out of my hands, getting right in my face, grabbing at me. So I defended myself. Shoved her back… she went into the railing. Then she starts screaming blue murder like I’ve laid into her for no reason, and before I know it, that screw Goodhue is telling me I’m on report.”
Lou’s expression softened. “You’re not on report. Not now. You acted in self-defence.” She turned to leave but paused. “I’m going to speak to her. Get her side of it.”
Lou found Angela and tried to reason with her, but the woman stuck rigidly to her story. When Lou said plainly she knew Pat wouldn’t lash out without cause, Angela got defensive and sneered, “Oh, I get it—you fancy her, don’t you? That’s why you’re taking her side.”
Lou’s face went hot. “That is a load of bollocks, and you know it. Now come on—medical.”
On the walk over, Angela suddenly snapped. She lunged at Lou, dragging her into the bathroom, wild and unhinged. Lou fought her off quickly, firmly—but before Lou could even speak, Angela crumpled, screaming and sobbing like she had no idea what had happened.
Later, Lou stood in the corridor with Dr. Dunlop, her expression tight with frustration as she heard Angela’s full psychiatric diagnosis.
“What I don’t understand is how anyone missed this—or worse, didn’t miss it and kept quiet. Fucking hell—she’s already attacked one inmate and now me. What if she goes for someone who can’t fight back?” Lou took a breath, steady and firm. “She’s getting transferred out today. It’s what’s best for her, and best for everyone here.” She ignored Rowan’s protests—this was one call she wasn’t backing down on.
When it was all done, Lou went back to her office, poured a coffee, sat at her desk—but the quiet felt too empty. Before she really thought about it, she was walking back to G-Wing, up the stairs once more to the Three’s. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was here. She told herself it was just to check Pat was all right.
She rapped gently on the cell door. It opened, and Pat stood there, surprised but pleased.
“Lou?”
“Can I come in?”
Pat nodded, stepping back and closing the door softly. The cell felt small, the air close and warm, charged with everything they’d both been dancing around for months.
“Thought you’d be busy sorting out the mess with that frigging nutter,” Pat said, leaning against the bunk, watching her with that a quiet gaze.
“Sorted. She’s being transferred.” Lou hesitated, then added, “And for the record—I believed you. Right from the start.”
Pat’s gaze softened, a small, grateful smile touching her lips. “Thanks. Means everything, that does.”
They stood close, shoulders almost brushing, neither stepping away. The air hummed with unspoken things—every glance that lingered, every quiet moment, every time one had looked for the other across the wing.
Then Pat stepped forward, just a little, and Lou didn’t step back.
“Lou… I know we shouldn’t,” Pat murmured, her voice soft, uncertain. “You’re the Deputy Governor. I’m… well, I’m in here. It’s all wrong.”
Lou nodded, her throat tight. “I know. I’ve been telling myself that all day. Every rule in the book says we shouldn’t. Every bit of sense I’ve got says walk away.”
“But?” Pat said, quiet hope in her eyes.
Lou looked at her, really looked at her, and let out a shaky breath. “But what’s the point in rules if they stop you from feeling alive? I know it’s complicated. I know there’s so much working against us. I’m not daft—I know where we are. But… I can’t just pretend I don’t feel this. Not anymore.”
Pat’s hand came up, fingers brushing gently against Lou’s arm. “Me neither. Tried to. Couldn’t.”
They kissed then—soft at first, careful, like they were both testing the waters, then deeper, warmer, like something finally clicking into place. When they pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, neither rushing to speak or pull away.
“We really ought to stop,” Lou whispered, but her hand stayed resting on Pat’s waist.
“Probably,” Pat agreed, but she leaned in and kissed her again anyway—slower, sweeter, like they were committing it to memory.
When they drew back this time, there was a quiet, determined sort of hope in Pat’s eyes.
“We’ll be careful,” Pat said, as much to herself as to Lou. “We’ll keep it quiet. No one need get hurt, no one will know. We just… take it slow. See how it goes.”
Lou didn’t say anything about life sentences or decades or the walls around them. She just looked at Pat—really looked—and realised she didn’t want to say no. Not properly. Not when it felt like this.
“I don’t know if it’ll work,” Lou admitted softly. “I don’t know how we’ll do it. But… I’m not ready to say it’s impossible. Not yet.”
Pat smiled then—bright, real, that familiar spark that always made Lou’s chest feel lighter. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not giving up on us that easy. Larkhall’s a big place, but we’re smarter than they are. We can find a way.”
Lou chuckled quietly, shaking her head even as she smiled back. “You’re trouble, Pat Kerrigan. Absolute trouble.”
“Maybe,” Pat said softly, her thumb brushing over Lou’s hand. “But I’m your trouble. If you’ll have me.”
Lou leaned in and kissed her once more—gentle, sure, a promise rather than something they had to hide. “Yeah. Yeah, I will. We’ll figure it out. Together.”
“Together,” Pat echoed.
Lou didn’t rush for the door this time. She stayed just a little longer, holding Pat’s hand, both of them knowing it wouldn’t be easy—but both of them believing, just for now, that maybe, just maybe, they really could make it work.