"With a record like yours, I'm surprised I haven't seen you in my office before." The brunette, if anything, sounded impressed. "I took a look at your file." Her green eyes fell down to the manila folder on her desk. She sifted through the pages and adjusted them. "Sentenced two months ago for aiding your father in illegally trading company secrets-"

"They treated their employees like slaves." Clarke Griffin wanted to make one thing clear. She was not a criminal before entering this place. Now, well, she wasn't so sure. At the very least if the Warden of the entire prison herself had chosen to grace her with her presence, she would make sure it wasn't wasted. "The money was going right to their communities!"

Warden Lexa Woods barely looked up from her papers before responding with and equal lack of interest. "Awful. But unfortunately legal. What you did was noble, but unfortunately illegal." She looked down at the file again. "Within your first week you attacked a guard-"

"Yes." Clarke admitted, leaning forward in her chair. "Your guard. Who was harassing my bunkmate-!"

"Yes. Which whom was promptly fired." She continued, "Started a fight with a rival prison gang your third week."

"That was an accident and-" Clarke cut off, not wanting to talk about the details of what happened that particular day. That was something she hadn't spoken to anyone about, least of all would she tell her. The woman on the other side of the desk waited for her to continue for a moment longer before forgoing the notion.

"And the latest incident in which you incited a prison wide riot."

Clarke smiled meekly and relaxed back in her chair. "You can't prove I had anything to do with that."

"I can't." The Warden admitted. She slipped the pages back into their folder and folded her hands over the desk. Almost absently, she said "Do you know how many were injured in last night's little show?" Clarke stayed silent. "Twenty-three. Eight guards. Fifteen inmates. Not just a few bruises or scratches like you have. Injuries. Broken legs, arms, stab wounds."

She was trying to guilt her. She knew it was working. Clarke shifted in her seat. She centered herself, she would not let Lexa throw her off, and she would make her point loud and clear. "It's no wonder there was a riot. The conditions here are awful. Nothing works around here, sometimes its days we go without water in the showers. Meals have been cut down to once a day. There's more corruption among the officers then the entire criminal record here among the inmates, and none of the girl here are getting the help they need to survive out there when they do eventually get released."

The Warden kept her gaze. To Clarke's surprised, her voice softened and for a second she seemed like an entirely different person. "I know."

"You know? Then why aren't you-?"

"It's not that simple, Clarke." Lexa clipped. She glanced away for a moment, swallowing hard and collecting herself. "I want the same thing as you. These people are my responsibility."

She looked sincere. Clarke relaxed a little. "Then why hasn't anything been done about it?"

"There has." The Warden reassured her. "We've been going through the staff here, trying to remove the bad eggs. As far as conditions here … We don't have the money. Our budget has been slashed every quarter by the higher ups. The prison is failing and if we can't prove to them that it's doing its job, it will be shut down before long. I'd like to provide proper classes and training but until we can give the higher ups something to show them, we'll never be able to afford it."

Clarke eased back carefully. Why was she telling her this? "You keep saying 'we'." It was more of a question than a statement. She eyed the woman suspiciously.

"The inmates look up to you." She explained. "I need someone with eyes on the inside. I need to know who of my staff is helping in bringing in the drugs or causing problems with the women. "I need someone the others will listen to who can keep things in order long enough for a positive review."

Clarke narrowed her eyes. "And what's in it for me?" She asked cautiously. She wasn't opposed of these things, she wanted them, but there were risks to what she was implying.

"Beyond the chance to have regularly running water and three meals a day?" She looked down at her file again, "Your bunkmate, Octavia Blake has been in juvenile detention centers more than she's been in school before she came here. How is she going to survive outside these walls? If things improve around here she can receive a proper education, job training. All of them can." Lexa paused and looked over at her again. "Even you. You were going to school to be a doctor, correct?"

Clarke didn't answer. That was something else she wouldn't talk to her about. Or anyone. Maybe not even herself.

She looked her over again. Lexa didn't give much away with an impassive expression and hard words. Still, she seemed honest. There was no reason for her to lie and of course she'd want the prison to succeed – if it failed she would be out of a job.

"Alright," Clarke relented, "but only under the condition these programs will be put in place."

"You have my word." After a pause she spoke a little louder, "According to you counselor, you refuse to talk or attend sessions. Now, you will talk to me. Same times, my office."

Clarke sat and processed. So this was how they would communicate. She would make it appear as a punishment. Or a ruse to trick her into confessing her part in last night's riot.

The Warden looked up from her desk again. "We're done here." Her eyes flicked to the door." You are to leave now."

—

As soon as Clarke rounded the corner to A block, Octavia ran out to greet her.

"You're not in any trouble are you?" Octavia asked. She looked like she was ready to march into Warden Woods office and fight her. "They can't prove anything, right?"

Clarke put her hands up to calm her. "They can't." She assured her friend. She glanced around and lowered her voice. "Where's Raven and Gina?"

Octavia swallowed hard and glanced away. "Medical." The word was hard with worry and regret. "They got hurt bad last night."

Guilt crept up the back of her throat. This was her fault. She smoothed out a few creases in her uniform to calm herself. It had been worth it. She had gotten what she wanted. "They still think it's me," Clarke started slowly. "The Warden wants to personally keep an eye on me."

"What do you mean?"

"Guess who's my new counselor? Mandatory. Twice a week." Clarke said bitterly. Octavia's face fell instantly. "She thinks I'll slip up or something." Clarke shrugged. "Clearly she doesn't know me that well."

"Clearly." Octavia echoed. She glanced passed Clarke's shoulder. "I got to go," She muttered before hurrying off to meet with Lincoln. Despite all the craziness that happened the night before, it appeared their fling still going strong. The guard was a good man and would be good for her, but Clarke couldn't help but think that maybe that was only true if they had met on the outside.

Octavia seemed to buy the ploy. Good, now all she had to do was expose Murphy and pray the Warden kept up her end of the deal.