A/N: Sorry it has taken so long to post a new chapter to this story. For those of you who are still reading: thank you for your patience. Apparently, I cannot manage 3 WIPs at the same time. Fortunately, now I'm down to just two, so maybe my updates will be more often. Keep your fingers crossed!

Chapter 19

The door banged open behind her and a guard rushed into the room, baton at the ready.

"Stay down!" he commanded.

No problem thought Frankie. With her throbbing head, she wasn't ready to get to her feet yet. She watched as the guard, Nguyen, made sure the room was clear then came back to check Rachael's pulse.

"She's dead," he grunted. "Come on in," he called out to someone outside the door.

To Frankie's surprise, Melissa and Justine entered the room. Coming over to her, Justine took her by the arms and helped her to her feet.

"You okay?" Melissa asked.

"Just a headache and a knot that's going to hurt like hell for the next few days."

She flinched as Justine probed her head. "Just a little scratch. She might have a concussion, though."

Melissa nodded. "Frankie, did you touch anything?"

"What?"

"Did you touch anything? Does anything in here have your prints on it?" she spoke slowly as if talking to a child.

"That weight," Frankie pointed, "and the door."

"Nguyen? You got this?" Melissa asked the guard.

"Yeah, get her the hell out of her before anyone else shows up," Nguyen answered, picking up the barbell with his gloves.

"Wait," Frankie protested as Justine steered her towards the door. "What about Rachael?"

"There's nothing you can do for her, Frankie. Right now, we need to get you clear of this," Melissa stood aside to let Justine and her pass.

Wordlessly, Frankie let the two lead her back to her cell. Once there, Melissa sent Justine for an ice pack for her head. Sitting on Rachael's bed, she looked Frankie in the eyes.

"If anyone asks, you were on laundry duty with me for the last three hours, got it?"

Frankie started to nod but winced at the stab of pain.

"Look, I'm not going to lie to you. This is a fucking mess and it's going to hard as hell to clean it up. The main thing is to keep you safe; you hear?"

"Yeah," she said weakly.

"Keep your head down while we work this out. Don't go anywhere unless it's with one of us. Don't let anyone tell you 'Melissa sent me' or any of that shit. I will not send someone for you unless it's one of my girls or Nguyen. Got that?"

"Got it."

Justine came back with an ice pack and some painkillers.

"Stay here with her. I'll send one of the others to watch her in a couple hours," Melissa told the other woman.

Justine fished a book out of her waistband and held it up, "I came prepared."


The next two days dragged by. Word of Rachael's death spread quickly, and the warden put the women on lockdown. Everybody was confined to their cells unless accompanied by two guards. They were even fed their meals in the cells.

Frankie didn't mind the isolation. It gave her time to think and mourn Rachael's death. Death and loss weren't new to her. People died on the streets all the time, and usually not from natural causes. The way to survive it was to not allow anyone to get close. She had broken that practice for Rory and look how that worked out. While Rachael wasn't exactly her BFF, she had been a kind soul whose only real crime was being too close to Frankie. That stung a lot more than she wanted it to.

"You're getting soft," she muttered to herself.

At the end of the second day, one of the women in the cell next to hers got her attention.

"Did you hear?"

"Hear what?" Frankie asked.

"They caught the bitch that killed Rachael," the answer came through the bars.

"What?"

"I'd thought you'd like to know since she was you cellmate and you two were friends," the other woman told her.

"Who?"

"One of the junkies, Lucy."

"What?"

"They said she was shaking her down for a fix and when Rachael didn't come through, she clubbed her over the head with a weight."

Frankie's heart sank. She didn't know if Lucy had been in on her set-up, but the poor woman didn't deserve to be framed for murder. Why hadn't they framed Leena? Or one of her lackies?

"She's being shipped out tomorrow morning to a lockup with solitary to await trial," the woman continued.

That only gave her a few hours if she wanted to do something to help Lucy. But did she really want to help? Frankie's sense of self-preservation warred with her sense of what was right. Maybe she could get word to Melissa and convince her to frame someone else. Someone she wouldn't feel guilty about taking the fall. Someone who deserved it.

"Inmates step back from the bars," a loud announcement came from the end of the block. It was dinner time.

One by one, trays were deposited in each cell. Frankie picked hers up and turned to take it to her bed but stopped when she saw a folded-up piece of paper laying where it had been set. She looked around to make sure no one was watching before grabbing it.

Stabbing a piece of meatloaf with her fork and stuffing it in her mouth, she opened the paper while she chewed.

Tonight 11:30

Not much of a message, but enough that Frankie knew she would get her wish to talk to her protector and friend before Lucy was shipped out. She shredded the note and flushed it down the toilet then finished her meal.

She tried to nap before the meeting, but every time she closed her eyes all she could see was Rachael's body bleeding out on the floor in front of her. By the time 11:30 arrived, she was tense and irritable and wanted to take it out on someone.

A quiet tapping on her cell bars alerted her just before the sharp clang of the lock releasing. Standing up, she went to the opening, seeing Heather waiting for her.

"Come on, we got to hurry," she told Frankie in a voice just above a whisper.

Slipping out to the cell and easing the door shut behind her, she followed Heather out of the cell block. They crept through dim corridors, not meeting another soul. Frankie recognized where they were going: the gym.

Heather ushered her into the room, not following.

"I'll stand watch."

The gym was even darker than the corridors. It took her a moment to realize that the windows in the doors were covered. Stepping deeper into the gloom, she stumbled over a loose mat on the floor.

"Be careful," Melissa hissed at her from nearby.

"It's dark in here," Frankie snapped. "You could have said something sooner."

"Sorry, I was distracted."

"What's going on?" Frankie asked.

"You are a pain in my ass. That's what's going on," the other woman told her. "If I'd had any idea what I was getting into, I would have told Hogarth to go fuck herself."

"Well, you didn't, so quit whining and tell me what's really going on," Frankie ground out.

"You need to show a little more appreciation. I could have just left you to take the fall for killing Rachael."

Melissa must have stepped closer because she poked Frankie in the chest with a finger.

"You know what?" Frankie swatted her hand away. Her irritation had blossomed into rage. "Why don't you take your own advice and go fuck yourself?"

In the dark, she heard Melissa chuckle, "wow, you have a set on you, don't you?"

Frankie didn't reply.

"Okay, how about we quit snapping at each other and get down to business?" Melissa said in a calmer voice.

"Fine," Frankie took a breath, "what did you want to meet about?"

"This is a giant cluster-fuck, girlie. Someone from high up in Hydra put out a hit on you. Leena was just following orders."

"What? But someone from Hydra has you protecting me, right?"

"That's what's so fucked. Looks like you are in the middle of some kind of power struggle."

"Glenda," she breathed. "It had to be Glenda."

"I don't care who it is. All I know is my wellbeing depends on yours and, right now, you're in serious danger here."

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

Melissa laughed mirthlessly, "why, we're going to break you out, of course."


Heather escorted a stunned Frankie back to her cell, her brain whirling with the info Melissa had just dropped on her. Glenda was no longer content to stand back and wait for her to screw up. Now she was actively trying to take Frankie out. Frankie wasn't going to have that. With her out of the picture, there would be nobody there for Rory; to keep him from doing something that he'd regret for the rest of his life. There would be nobody there to save him from the grip of Hydra's tentacles.

Melissa had laid her concerns about Lucy to rest. She had assured Frankie that the junkie was just a distraction and wouldn't have to stand trial for the murder. That one less person was going to end up a victim of Hydra made her happier than she thought it would.


Somehow, she managed to get a couple hours of sleep before breakfast was delivered in the morning. This time, there were two items under her tray: another note and a sliver of broken glass. The note had only one word written on it.

Infirmary

Taking the note to mean 'get to the infirmary now', she took the sliver of glass and turned it over in her hand. It was only a couple inches long and less than half an inch wide. If someone wanted to hurt her with it, how would they use it? She ran through a few scenarios in her head before settling on one. Wrapping the shard in her napkin, she reached back and drug it roughly across her upper shoulder, gritting her teeth to keep from screaming in pain. When she was done, she had a gash that ran from just below the nape of her neck almost to the outside of her shoulder. It hurt like hell and bled profusely, but nothing important had been damaged.

Dropping the shard just outside the bars of her cell, she wadded the napkin and stuffed it in her pants pocket. She just needed it to be believable enough to get her to the infirmary, not foolproof.

Picking up her breakfast tray, she dropped it with a loud clatter, let out a pained scream and started yelling for guards. Within seconds, two guards were at her cell. Nguyen was one.

"What happened?" the second guard asked, unlocking the door. His name tag said 'Vigil'.

"I don't know," Frankie panted, holding her shoulder. "I picked up my tray and turned away then felt the burning pain across my back. Is it bad? Am I dying?" She tried to look at the wound."

"Be still," Nguyen told her, "Let's see."

He turned her around for him and Vigil to get a good look. Frankie knew it was bloody, she could feel it dripping down her back and the hand she held up to it was dripping also. For a moment she was afraid she had miscalculated and injured herself a little too much.

"Holy shit! Is that bone?"

"What?" she asked, the panic in her voice close to being real.

"Nah," Nguyen answered them. "It's just a piece of her shirt. But she needs stitches, let's get her to the infirmary now."

As the two helped Frankie out of her cell, her foot caught the sliver of glass 'accidentally' kicking it.

"What's that?" Nguyen asked.

The Vigil bent down to examine it. "Looks like the weapon used to cut her."

"We can't just leave it here," Nguyen said. "You stay here and radio for help with the scene. I'll get her to the infirmary."

"But all prisoners are supposed to be escorted by two guards at all times," Vigil protested.

"I know I don't want to be the one to tell the warden that we've lost another weapon used to commit a crime this week, do you?"

He still hesitated.

"I've got to get her moving before she bleeds out. I tell you what, I'll grab a guard from the next block and have them go with us."

That was good enough for Vigil. He nodded and keyed his radio, "I need an extra guard in Bravo Cell Block."

Nguyen hurried her away before Vigil changed his mind.

"He's a good guy, but clueless about how the real world operates," he told her quietly.

"He won't be for long," she answered. "Either that or he'll end up dead."

"Let's hope that doesn't happen. He has two little kids."

Frankie agreed.

At the infirmary, Nguyen turned her over to the nurse on duty, who tutted over the wound.

"Nasty piece of business here, but you'll live. It's going to leave a hell of a scar, though."

She called Nguyen over and instructed him to hold pressure on the wound then turned away to gather her supplies. Frankie looked up at the clock. It was already after 8:00. If they were going to use Lucy's transfer as a distraction, it was going to happen soon. She exchanged a look with Nguyen, who nodded.

The nurse puttered around, going from cabinet to cabinet, muttering to herself. Could the woman possibly take any longer, she thought. She would like to get sewed up before the shit hit the fan. Bringing the tray over and setting it on the table by the exam bed where Frankie perched, the nurse picked up the pre-threaded surgical needle and squinted at it critically.

"Nope, this won't do. Way to big. You'll look like a bad ragdoll if I use this one. Give me a sec, I'll find the smaller suture kit."

"That's okay!" Frankie said quickly. "I have so many other scars it won't matter."

The nurse tutted and patted her knee, "just relax dear. I'm not going to send you away with shoddy work."

Frankie huffed and rolled her eyes at Nguyen. "Can you do something?" she hissed.

He shook his head, "I know this woman. The more we try to rush her, the slower she will go."

It took a few moments for the nurse to find what she was looking for. Coming back over to the pair, she shooed the guard away before lifting a syringe.

"Let's go ahead and get this penicillin shot out of the way, then I'll start on the cut."

Frankie resignedly stood up and turned around, pulling down her prison issued pants to expose her hip.

"Oh, no dear!" the nurse exclaimed, laughing. "Cover yourself back up."

Frankie did as she was instructed but frowned. Every penicillin shot she had ever gotten – it was amazing how often you needed one when you lived on the streets – had been in the meaty part of her hip. When she had complained about it, she had been told her arm was too thin and the volume and viscosity of the shot needed a large muscle.

"But…," she started.

"This one goes in your arm."

The nurse hummed to herself as she rolled up Frankie's sleeve. Angling the needle, she prepared to find a vein with the needle.

Something was off about all this. Looking down at the syringe, Frankie could see that the liquid in it was clear and watery with a slightly brown tinge. Penicillin was typically milky and had the consistency of syrup. And it wasn't administered directly into the bloodstream!

"Hey," she stood up and pushed the nurse away.

"What's going on?" Nguyen asked.

"Come here and help hold her down," the nurse told him. "She's being difficult. We may have to restrain her."

"Frankie," he said to her, "what are you doing?"

"That's not penicillin," she told him.

The nurse tutted, "the child thinks she's a doctor now."

He held out his hand, "show me."

The nurse sighed and set the syringe down on the tray. "Very well, I guess I'll have to do this a different way."

She snatched up a scalpel, spun on Nguyen and slashed it across his throat before he could react. He reeled back away from her, grasping his throat. Blood sprayed from between his fingers, within seconds he collapsed to his knees, gasping like a fish out of water.

"Oh, dear," the nurse said. "Look what you did."

She stepped around the bleeding guard and walked over to her desk. Frankie, horrified, backed away from her and into the corner under the barred window.

"You just had to be difficult and ruin everything," the nurse opened a drawer and pulled out a handgun. "Now, look at the mess you caused." She looked up at Frankie, her eyes angry despite the tone of her voice. "These were my good shoes," she motioned to her white shoes, now splattered with blood.

Nguyen had collapsed completely and was just twitching on the floor in the growing pool of his blood. The nurse walked around the edge, holding up the gun.

"Wait," Frankie held up her hand, pleading. "You don't have to do this."

"Hail Hydra," the nurse replied.

She took aim at Frankie.

The prison alarms began blaring and the lights flashing.

The distraction had started, her escort was dying, and she was cornered by the nurse from hell.

Could things get any worse?