Timeline: Post 4x01
Franky frowned and rubbed her eyes wearily. It was gone midnight and she was the only one left in the office. Again.
She looked at her watch and sighed. She'd sent Gidge a text message telling her she'd be home late but it didn't alleviate the guilt.
Bridget always understood; Franky was trying to build a career for herself and she had to start at the bottom. Being an ex-crim, it had taken her six months to find this job and she was going to grab the opportunity with both hands. Which meant she had to work twice as hard as everyone else.
She was slogging her way through the briefing papers for the impending case of Simon Dexter, a 71 year old farmer who had been fined $400 (plus costs) after pleading guilty to dispatching 10 cattle to a sale yard without proper identification. It was tedious work and she'd rather be at home with Gidget. Curled-up on the sofa, drinking wine and kissing… or out dancing, drinking beer and kissing… but she had to focus. Had to keep reminding herself of the bigger picture. Of her future.
Franky made a note about National Livestock Identification System tags and tried not to picture the expression of disappointment on Bridget's face when she realised Franky wouldn't be home tonight.
Bridget was asleep when Franky tip-toed into their bedroom. The brunette stripped and threw her clothes in the dirty laundry hamper. She opened a dresser drawer and pulled an oversized T-Shirt over her head from a Divinyls gig she'd gone to with Bridget. She doesn't remember much about the band but has fond memories of the far cubicle in the ladies. She'd found out just how flexible Bridget was that night.
She slipped into bed and gazed at Bridget. The blonde lay peacefully on her side, hands tucked under the pillow, breathing gently. Franky smiled because she can't help herself, then felt overcome with guilt because she's starting to wonder what colour Gidge's eyes are… she's been late home every night this month.
She reached out and gently stroked Bridget's cheek. Gidget murmured something indecipherable and Franky smiled. She snuggled close to her girlfriend and closed her eyes. Exhausted, she fell asleep almost immediately.
When she woke up Bridget's side of the bed was empty and there was a pot of coffee brewing. She found a note on the Kitchen table.
Let's do something fun this weekend. Gidget xx
Franky smiled.
It was just gone 6pm on Wednesday night and Franky's eyes kept darting to the clock. She wouldn't be late tonight; she had to draw a line. She pushed her chair back from her desk and was about to pull her jacket on when Lorraine approached.
Lorraine Wilson was one of the top solicitor's at Clayton & Associates and the one who had hired Franky; she'd seen potential and had been nothing but encouraging. Franky felt an unwavering need to prove Lorraine's faith hadn't been mistaken.
"New case," Lorraine said and dropped a file on Franky's desk.
Doyle tried to hold-back her annoyance.
"Something you can sink your teeth into. You've earned it," Lorraine stated and sauntered away.
Franky sat back down, drew her chair up to her desk and flipped the folder open. Her eyes skimmed the first page and she was instantly drawn in.
In October of 2013 Riley Martinez - a local drug dealer and member of the Young Kingz gang – had walked out of Santini, a restaurant on Southbank Avenue, Central City at 5.26pm. As he strode towards his car a dark blue Fiat hurtled by and opened fire, spraying him with bullets. He hit the ground, dead.
The front windows of Santini's was peppered with bullets; shattering glass around their customers as they dove to the floor. The laundrette and hairdressers either side were also pummelled full of bullets.
12 year old Jamal Kittering was walking along the pavement, on his way home from school, when he was caught in the crossfire. He was hit several times.
The emergency services were on the scene within minutes. Jamal lay in a puddle of his own blood, gasping for air and crying in agony. He was treated at the scene by paramedics before being rushed to The Royal Melbourne Hospital. He had three bullet wounds – one embedded in his chest, one in his hip and one in his thigh. He survived but was left paralysed from the waist down.
Police cordoned off the street and forensic officers went to work gathering evidence.
The Gang Crime Squad was called in to help investigate the shooting. They never found the shooter or the gun and no witnesses came forward. The Gang Crime Squad suspected it was a turf war between the Young Kingz and Mad Dogz over drugs. The Young Kingz had been running an amphetamine ring and Mad Dogz were trying to cut-in and take control of the market.
There the trail went cold, until a month ago when Kiah Redmond, 26, was stopped by traffic police when her tail light was out. Police found a gun in her boot and she was arrested for carrying an unlicensed weapon. During questioning, she let slip that it belonged to her boyfriend, Noah Boyd. Then quickly clamed-up.
The gun was identified as that used in the drive-by shooting that killed Riley Martinez and seriously injured Jamal Kittering.
The police believed Noah Boyd was the shooter and wanted to prosecute, however he had an alibi - Kiah swore he was with her all night.
Franky glanced at her watch and bit her lip, then delved into the file.
It was gone 1am when she got home and Franky was anxious; she knew Bridget wanted to go out tonight. They had made plans with friends – drinks and a night club.
She was almost glad when she got home and Bridget wasn't there. Franky was torn – relieved Gidget went without her and a little jealous that the blonde had probably had a great night without her.
As if on cue, she heard keys in the front door and Bridget stumbled in. Slightly drunk, wearing a tight sequinned dress that fitted her like a second skin, four inch 'fuck me' heels and a glittering clutch bag.
She blundered down the hall and then spotted Franky. She raised her arms in the air in mock surprise. "Hello stranger! Your face seems vaguely familiar… have we met?!"
Bridget dropped her clutch on the kitchen table and moved towards the sink. She poured herself a tall glass of water.
"You're getting very passive-aggressive in your old age Gidge, you might wanna consider more productive ways of dealing with your anger."
Bridget scowled at Franky over her shoulder. "Ha ha."
Franky smirked. "Have a good time?"
Bridget turned to face Franky, gulping down her water. She finished it in one go and took a deep breathe. "I did. The gang says hi. You missed a good night." She set her glass down and headed for the bedroom, shedding clothes and shoes as she went.
"I'll make it up to you," Franky promised.
She stood in the doorway and watched Gidget crawl into bed naked.
"You always say that," Bridget sighed, barely audible.
It hurt because Franky knew it was true. She walked into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.
Bridget had crept under the sheets and was already drifting into sleep, exhausted from a night of drinking and dancing.
Franky reached out and gently stroked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I miss you," she murmured under her breath.
Bridget's eyelids flickered. "I miss you too," she mumbled and then fell into a sound sleep.
Franky gazed at Bridget for a few moments, then kicked off her shoes and headed into the bathroom.
It was Thursday morning and the smell of breakfast woke her. Her stomach grumbled and she realised she hadn't eaten since yesterday lunchtime.
Franky got up and slung on her robe. She walked into the kitchen and saw Bridget cooking a fry-up. She sat at the kitchen table.
"How's the hangover?" she teased.
Bridget glanced at Doyle over her shoulder. "I'm too old to party all night," she confessed.
Franky grinned.
Bridget put the toast, eggs, bacon and beans on two plates, set one in front of Franky and took a seat beside her. They tucked in.
Franky savoured the taste of the food, closing her eyes. She rarely had time to cook anymore – the kitchen was Bridget's domain these days.
"This is spectacular!" Franky exclaimed.
Bridget shrugged nonchalantly.
Franky looked nervously at her girlfriend. "I'm sorry about yesterday. Something came up at the office last minute."
Bridget met those fiery eyes. She hated this; she understood about the pressures of a job, trying to do your best, wanting to do work that's fulfilling… but they're turning into a cliché. Franky was never home. Their relationship was almost non-existent and 90% of the time she felt like a nagging wife… felt like she was turning into her mother.
"I get it. I do," Bridget declared, looking sad. "I just…"
Franky put her hand over Bridget's. "I know," she murmured and squeezed Bridget's hand. "I'm free this weekend. What do you want to do?"
Bridget smiled, a full-watt smile. "There's a silent movie weekend at the ICAA. We could grab dinner afterwards and," she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, "who knows what else."
Franky bit into her toast. "It's been so long I think my vagina's sealed-up!"
Bridget had just taken a swig of orange juice and sprayed it everywhere, unable to contain her laughter.
Franky chuckled raucously as Bridget turned to her, draped her arm over Franky's shoulder and smiled fondly. "Oh dear God I've missed you!"
She leaned across the space dividing them and placed a firm kiss on Franky's lips.
Franky was late for a change – if you could call 8.30am late. Franky walked into the Clayton & Associates building, took the lift to the third floor and started down the corridor.
Lorraine appeared beside her. "You read the Jamal Kittering case?" she asked keenly.
Franky nodded.
"The prosecution have the murder weapon, they can build a pretty good case against Noah Boyd if we break his alibi."
They rounded the corner.
Franky shook her head. "I know women like Kiah. She'll do anything – even go to jail - to protect Noah."
They reached the main office and Franky threw her bag down on her desk.
"She's facing time and she has two children under the age of 5. She'll talk – if we handle it right." Lorraine held the brunette's eye. "I want you as my second in command. You'll be there to liaise with Jamal and his mother, compile court documentation, help me prepare Kiah's cross examination and sit in on all my meetings. Are you on-board, Franky?"
Franky peeled her jacket off and slipped it over the back of her chair. She wanted to accept this assignment more than anything – it's exactly the kind of case she wanted to be doing. But there's Bridget to consider. Taking on this case would mean more hours at the office.
Lorraine picked-up on her hesitation and looked disappointed. "I'll need an answer by the end of the day."
Franky nodded.
Lorraine spun on her heel and headed towards her office.
Franky took a seat at her desk and fidgeted, then decided to bite the bullet - she needed to talk to Bridget.
At lunch time she snuck off to the ladies toilets on the fifth floor. She walked into the last stall, forced the window open and sat on the ledge. She lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out of the window.
She pulled out her mobile phone and called her girlfriend.
It rang four times before Gidget answered.
"Hey!" Bridget chirped.
"Hey gorgeous," Franky automatically smiled (because Bridget always had that effect on her). "What are you up to?"
"The usual. Trying to stop all-out war at Wentworth. What about you?"
Franky hesitated.
Bridget sensed it. "What's up?" she asked tentatively.
"I got offered a great opportunity," Franky began.
There was a long pause.
"Take it," Bridget said abruptly.
Franky bit her bottom lip. "It's longer hours. Are you sure?"
"I don't want to hold you back," Bridget stated.
If she were here Franky would have covered her in kisses. She took a deep breath. "I really feel like this is my big break. A chance to do something worthwhile, you know?"
Bridget's voice became lighter. "I do."
Franky took a drag of her cigarette and exhaled the smoke out of the window. "Gidge," she almost whispered. "I won't forget this."
"It's my birthday next week. I'm expecting a gift, one of your homemade Walnut cakes and a romantic night out, minimum."
Franky snickered. "You got it."
After her conversation with Bridget, she went in search of Lorraine.
Lorraine's door was always open. It was a running joke in the office - she was the only partner at Clayton & Associates who wedged her door to keep it permanently open. She liked knowing what was going on in the office and had an uncanny ability to listen in on people's conversations as well as concentrate on her work.
Franky tapped lightly on the door.
Lorraine looked up. She was seated at her desk, buried in mounds of paper work, glasses balanced perilously on the edge of her nose.
"I want the Kittering case," Franky said.
Lorraine's lips quirked into a smile. "You start tomorrow. I'm interviewing Kiah at 9am at Dame Phyllis Frost Centre. Be ready to go at 8.30am sharp."
She returned her attention to her work and Franky knew she'd been dismissed.
The brunette whirled on her heel, grinning hugely as she walked back to her desk.