Soo,
I've been messing things up a little bit, so I have no idea if things still sound a little logically?
Well, I just keep on writing and hoping and hoping you guys like the fiction. ;)

Enjoy!


I subtly perched on the chair that was waiting for me in Ferguson's office. The woman herself had already taken a seat, leaning her elbows on her desk. She folded her hands together and plainly looked at me for a few moments. Her glance was unsettling, like ever, and her dark eyes accused me of something. I blinked a few times, reluctant to keep eye-contact.

Without really moving Ferguson mused, "Holding hands with a prisoner?" she sounded seriously disgruntled. It stood in contrast with the tranquility on her dark features.

"How do you.." I sputtered in surprise, clenching my jaw in an attempt to keep my face straight. This was it, I thought. She could take her chance now, report it to Derek and then I'd be lost; I could never deny it. How stupid had I been? Dragged away by emotion? Once again that'd cost me my head.

"Have you forgotten about the camera's, miss Davidson?" She moved back in her chair in one slow motion and only kept one hand on the desk to tap her fingers over it.

The damned fucking camera's!
"I was merely.." I began but Ferguson cut me off: "I thought you would keep a professional distance".

"I was!" I retorted sharply, "There's a difference between being unprofessional and being a person." I was going to defend myself with all my might.

Actually, Ferguson seemed a little taken aback by my sudden nerve, but soon became clear to me that she had only taken a moment to make me realize I had actually involuntarily risen to my feet. Upon that realization, my confident demeanor disappeared like snow in the rain. My eyes fluttered to the ground and I had no idea where to leave my hands. Then, Ferguson stood up as well. She towered over me, looking down at me with one dark eyebrow crooked upwards.

"We don't hold hands with prisoners." Her airy tone was so, so obnoxious. I kept staring into those cold, dark eyes. They were like deep ravines; looking into them made you vulnerable and one little loss of balance would have you falling and falling until you hit the cold hard ground. "This is prison, Erica, each and every one of the women in here did something horrible, something society fears them for. We can't afford to treat them lightly. They have to be punished."

I snorted, chuckling humorlessly. "You can't treat them like animals! These women have feelings, rights, just like we do! Franky looked horrible and -"

"Have you ever seen that man she covered in boiling hot oil? Doyle will soon get that pretty face of hers back, but that man is scarred for life. Have you ever even considered that?"

It seemed so unfair to use that against her, but it was no more than the truth.
However there was so much more to Franky than a pretty face and a fierce temper. Ferguson simply didn't bother to look beyond that; a mistake I had made.

As a lawyer, I did have my retort at the ready however, "Shouldn't you try to change their attitude? They will only grow more angry when you treat them like garbage. In a few years they will have to go out there again. How are you going to prepare them for that?"

"Erica.." Ferguson sighed shortly. It sounded quite humiliating; like I was a stubborn child with ridiculous ideas. "We want them to hate this place. They should spend every day desperately counting down the minutes until the end of their sentence, so they will do anything to stay out of here next time."

I sighed impatiently, "They should be prepared for life outside.. You can't just throw them into a world they don't know and expect they are going to turn out just fine!" A little debating wouldn't do any harm and I was going to defend my statement.

"If your methods had worked, Erica, you would have been the one standing on this side of the desk right now, not?" the left corner of Ferguson's mouth made a little, smug twitch.

This wasn't valid and I knew it; the prison still knew the problems it had known during my time. I knew that even under Ferguson's regime, Bea would have killed Jacs and Franky had told me enough about Fletch and Jackson getting out of hand. Only Vera seemed to be truly happy with the things as they were right now.

"You have to adjust your attitude, it's not like you can't be replaced." Ferguson concluded. She adjusted a pile of paper on the corner of her desk and then wiped a little piece of dust from the dark surface before she sat down again.

"Can't be replaced?" I pulled my eyebrows upwards, "If Franky doesn't finish her study, it won't be very good for the reputation of the prison. She has always been the showpiece."

"She can finish her study without you." Ferguson grimaced at me.

"If it was that simple, I don't think I would've been here." I replied sharply.

A knock echoed through the room and when I looked around, I saw Channing marching into the office. He nodded at me, mumbling an unfriendly "Erica" before he brought his attention to Ferguson. "You asked for me?"

"Yes." The woman answered smugly, folding her hands together. I read some sort of weird anticipation from her face. It was an expression that made me want to leave the office. "Miss Davidson here isn't really keeping the distance you require of your employees."

Dammit, this was about me.

I looked out of the window, because I didn't want either of their glances to cross mine.

After a short silence Ferguson continued, "She holds hands with prisoners."
For fuck's sake. As if I was always walking around with any of the women at my hand. I snorted silently at that very thought.

"Erica.." My glance was drawn to Derek's wrinkled face as he said my name.

"I was comforting Franky." I shrugged with my words, pulling an expression that showed it wasn't much of a big deal and that Ferguson was making it so much worse than it was.

"You were comforting her?" He pulled a brow up.

"She's beat up, someone had to take a little bit of care!" I explained myself. My voice had risen a tone.

"Rose is not doing her job well enough?"
"Oh, come on, I'm her tutor!" always hiding behind your job, Franky's words echoed through my mind and it unsettled a nerve in my stomach.

"Yes, you're supposed to teach her things. That's what you're good at, that's why I wanted you back.. You're not her counselor." Derek explained.

"Well, the women don't have one.." The sound of my voice had dropped a few levels in volume. Upon a quick glance at Ferguson I could see she was utterly enjoying this.

"They don't need one either. This is not daycare, Erica. They shouldn't feel comfortable in here."

"That's what I've been trying to tell her for a while now." Ferguson interfered.
Oh, shut up! I nearly said it out loud. It was two against one, however, so that wouldn't have been a smart move. My eyes darted from Ferguson to Channing and back, they were both waiting for me to say something.

After uttering a pathetic, humorless laugh, I sighed, "I get it."

"I hope you do." Ferguson nodded shortly. Gosh, I felt like a stubborn teen in front of her school's principle. "See you tomorrow, Erica." She grinned smugly, nodding at the door.

"Good day." I gritted my teeth and grimaced faintly before I turned around to finally leave the office. Once I was strolling down the hallway, I shook my head in disagreement, my thoughts occupied by all the reasons why I despised Joan Ferguson. All I saw were white sneakers and blue trousers as I kept my eyes pointed at the floor. My ears paid more attention to what was happening around me. I heard the voice of Simone Slater as she and Bea Smith passed me, "You beat her up pretty badly, didn't know you had that in you.."

I looked up just in time to see some nasty bruises on Bea's face. She had been part of the riot.. but she hadn't done the harm to Franky, right? There were enough women on the medical unit for Simone to talk about. No, Bea couldn't have..
It did put me to thinking, however. Especially when I saw the red-haired woman enter Ferguson's office. The most ridiculous ideas of Ferguson and Smith playing against Franky together came to my mind. The rush of thoughts ended with the bittersweet fact that I'd come home to an empty house.


It might not always look like it, but I actually have a plan for where this is heading!
I hope you're still following the story as we not so patiently wait for season 3.
Which brings me to a little question to you all:
if Erica'd return, how would you see it happen? (I'm quite curious, so put your thoughts in a review? Along with your commentary, of course)

Well, hopefully until next chapter!
Have a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year!

x