The cellphone erupted in a cacophony of the basic Apple ringtone and vibrations against the polished dining room table.

Fuck. Not even during the Holidays can Caputo handle his business for one night.

"Hello, Caputo", Fig answered the phone, accentuating the syllables with her velvety feminine tone. "Let me guess. Was the baby Jesus reborn, or did the inmate cast as the camel take a crap in the middle of the play, causing an overnight decontamination effort?" Fig smirked at her own quick wit.

"Ha-ha, Fig. If only it was a matter so flip. Caputo clears his throat, suddenly serious. "There's been, ah, an incident. Chapman's involved. We found her outside, covered in Doggett's blood, and, ah, Doggett was unconscious on the ground. It is believed that Chapman stabbed her with her cross. She was an angel in the pageant."

"So what you're telling me is that two inmates were unaccounted for during your pageant, and no one happened to see or hear an attempted murder?" "And, not only were they unaccounted for, one in costume no less, but under your nose, we allowed an inmate to fashion a weapon as part of the spirit of Christmas?" "Is that really what you want to tell me? Consider your answer carefully, Caputo."

Caputo winced at Fig's answer. "No", Caputo hung on the word, giving himself a moment to cobble together an answer. "Look, we do this pageant every year. These costumes, they are – monitored. Anyway, that's irrelevant. We put Chapman in the SHU. Caputo got up from his desk, running his fingers through his sparse hair. "Bennett and Healey were both on duty tonight. I have yet to question them. They called me, and I came right here to assess the situation. I thought you would want to know, being that Chapman's involved, and all."

"Well, that's a perfect course of action, Caputo! I knew you had it in you! Go and assess the situation -she said this last part softly, as if talking to a child- and report back to me your findings. I'll be in at 7AM sharp."

And with that – the line clicks. Caputo bangs down the receiver. Fuck! It never gets easier. Not even for Christmas. She has to ball bust no matter what. Caputo heads out of his office, making a beeline for Healey and Bennett.

Fig holds her cellphone in her hand, raising it to her pursed lips, as if the act alone could hold in her thoughts. But Fig's mind doesn't race. She didn't get to her position without methodical, deliberate moves. Chapman. A WASP. Should have been a model inmate. 15 months, in and out. First her meddling fiancé has to air our dirty laundry – over what? what? some foolish lesbian jealousy?, followed by the reporter who's clearly going to unearth all our finances. How do I turn this around? I am not taking the fall for what I deserve. Fig places the cellphone down on the table, and turns around, grasping a dining room chair with placing both hands behind her to steady her frame. She looks out over the city – floor to ceiling sweeping views. Even though she's only in Fairfield, she has arrived. And there's no going back.

Caputo's rubber soles slip silently down the dimmed corridors. Bennett and Healey are together in the officer's station. Bennett looks doggedly tired, body tense, head slung to the side, eyes closed, face pale, an almost green pallor under the fluorescent lights. To Caputo, it looks like he either has a minor twitch, or is whispering a story to himself, his lips moving back and forth, jaw clenched. Meanwhile, Healey maintains his normal rotund, complacent, slack-jaw bulldog expression. Caputo starts – at a booming volume "Well, well, gentlemen. Which of you mouth breathers would like to explain what happened here tonight?" Healey shifts his weight backward, folding his arms across his ample chest, loudly exhaling. Bennett snaps to attention, stiffening his body against the wooden arm chair. Bennett starts – "well, what happened, is, uh, well, Caputo, I was passing by the back doors, just, uh, you know, making the rounds, when I saw Chapman out in the snow. So, I, uh, went out to investigate, and that's when I saw Doggett on the ground." Bennett squeezes his eyes for a second and quickly snaps his head away. After serving, he should have a better constitution, but his body continues to be racked by the sensation of rising vomit at the sight of blood. He continues. "That's all – Doggett was unconscious at that point. I forced Chapman to her knees, apprehended her…" his voice trailed off, and Caputo shifts his attention to Healey – "and you? Where were you?" Healey smirks, and deeply exhales again, "I was monitoring the three wise men that didn't try to run off with the virgin bride to the bathrooms". Caputo bristles. "Fig already knows. She'll be here at 7 tomorrow – so you both better do a little more digging." Healey's expression steels. "Listen, I am just shy of retirement. I have had a spotless career here. Chapman has been nothing but problems since Day 1." Healey sighs, throwing up his hands. "I was watching the pageant. We thought all the inmates were accounted for. The scene with Doggett was long over – we never told the inmates they couldn't walk back to their rooms, this was never a mandatory gathering."

Caputo shifts – "Bennett." "Chapman, she say anything?" "Uh, no, no, No, sir!" "She was in shock, I think. I don't know what happened out there, sir, but I don't think Chapman's a bad—" "Ah, ah, ah Bennett. Let's just get the facts. Don't put rose colored glasses on. This is a very bad situation. For all of us."

"And how's Doggett now?" Bennet replies. "She's been transported to the local hospital." "When she left, sir, she clearly had lost most of her teeth, and there was lots – Bennett winces again – lots of blood loss." "It didn't look good."