S5E6 - Scene Four

As Franky left the costume shop, her phone rang. "Hello?"

"You die," the strange voice said.

She looked at the phone and didn't recognize the number. "What?!" Franky asked.

"You die. Kim dead. Now you die."

"I didn't have anything to do with Kim dying! She did that all on her own. She should have left Bridget alone."

"You die and that one die too."

"Fuck you! You stay away from her!"

"The one who kill Kim will die." The phone went dead.

"FUCK!" Franky rushed to her car. "Fuck!"

She pointed her car toward the rehab center, swerving and running red lights. She looked at every person who came near her car every time she was forced to stop. Every Asian man and woman she saw became a threat and she began to see her potential assassin everywhere.

"Fuck! I've got to get to Bridget!"

As she flew down the street, she could see a couple, an Asian man and woman walking across the street in front of her. The dark-haired man carried a long black bag and as she got closer, he swung it off his shoulder and reached inside. Franky pushed on the gas pedal, hoping to stop him before he could pull out a gun.

"No you don't, you mother…!"

Just as she got within a couple of car lengths, the woman picked up a child that had been walking beside her but had been blocked by the two adults. Franky slammed on her brakes and tried to stop but the brakes locked and she slid toward the intersection.

"Shit!"

The man looked up at the squealing car and dropped the long black bag as he pushed his wife and child out of the way. He tripped on the bag and tried to scramble away on his hands and knees. The car came to a stop and crashed into the black bag but just missed the man on the ground.

"Shit! Fuck!" Franky shouted as she jumped out of the car. She looked around to see if there were any other cars on the street and was grateful that no witnesses came over to them. "I'm so sorry! Are you alright? I'm so sorry. The brakes locked. Did I hit you?"Franky bent down and put out her hand to help him up.

"I'm okay," he said as he brushed himself off. "Are you okay?"

"Am I…? What?" She asked, surprised that he was just as worried about her. "Yeah, I'm okay." She looked at his wife and then at the scared little girl clutching her leg. "Are you okay?" she asked the child sweetly. The girl looked at her and then looked up and down her arms at all the tattoos.

"My mommy gets mad at me when I color on myself," she said.

"Yeah, mine too." Franky pouted a little and nodded at her.

The girl smiled at her and then hid her face behind her mother. Franky smiled at the young woman, who looked at her with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Franky recognized the look and gave her the full-on dimple treatment. The woman blushed and the said something to her husband in Korean that made him rush to pick up the black bag.

Franky turned as he lifted the bag and realized that it was only a baby cart for the little girl to ride in when she got tired. The handle had been broken and the bag was torn.

"Here, let me pay for that!" Franky insisted as she stuck her hand in a tight pocket and pulled out a fifty dollar bill. She stuffed it in his hand as he tried to refuse. "Please. It's the least I can do."

"Thank you," he replied graciously. "Is your car going to be okay?"

"Piece of shit car. I'm going straight to the greaser who was supposed to have fixed it." Franky cursed at it like this was all the car's fault. "Are you sure you're are all okay?"

"Yes, yes. Thank you."

The wife shouted at him again and pulled on his shirt to get them all moving again. He tossed the black bag and cart over his shoulder but the torn bag ripped even more so he just tucked it under his arm and jogged off to catch up with his wife. She turned and looked at Franky one more time and the former top dog winked at her and gave her a big smile. The woman turned and pulled on her husband. Franky laughed as she listened to her continue to berate her husband in Korean as they walked away.

A car honked and Franky raised her arms. "Yeah, yeah! I'm going!" She banged on the hood of her car and then climbed in. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath and let the adrenaline and shock ease away. She shook her head to clear it and then turned the key. She looked in the rearview mirror at herself.

"Fucking moron," she cursed at herself. "Get your head on and get in front of this." The car behind her honked again. "Yeah! Hold your fucking horses. I'm going!" She looked to make sure no one else was walking in front of her and then she continued toward the rehab hospital.
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Franky hated hospitals. They were always cold, but not as cold as Wentworth. They always had a strange smell; but not as bad as Wentworth, which always smelled like someone had just mopped the floor with bleach and a moldy mop. And they were filled with sick people and at Wentworth, if you were the top dog and got sick, you were fair game to anyone who wanted to take you down. So getting sick was out of the question.

She tried to remind herself that this was a rehab hospital and not a regular hospital filled with old folks who had pneumonia, or children with cancer, or friends who got ripped open by former prison governors.

Bridget had been moved here a few weeks ago to help her deal with Kim's attack. It wasn't so much about the cuts, there were only a few visible scars left from the deeper cuts. It was more about healing emotionally. She had been tortured and berated throughout the night and nearly raped. She had to watch as one prisoner slowly bled out and died. And then she had to deal with the death of her assailant. As a psychologist, she knew that any one of these was a serious issue that would need serious grief counseling, but to have endured all of it was too great to manage alone, so she allowed herself to be admitted to the mental health ward. Daily counseling, group sessions, art therapy, and physical rehab were all meant to help her find a balance between the fear and residual pain, and the knowledge that the event was in the past and Kim was dead and would never hurt her again.

Franky stepped into the elevator and went to the fifth floor. She walked down the tan hallways lined with colorful paintings until she got to the second to last room. She knocked as she pushed the door open and Bridget looked up from a stack of papers in front of her.

"Hey, Baby!" Bridget smiled at her and climbed out of the bed. They met halfway and Bridget kissed her firmly on the lips and then hugged her tightly. When she noticed that Franky wasn't hugging her as tightly, she backed up and looked at her young lover. "Are you okay?"

Franky waved away the problem. "Yeah. Yeah. I had a ph… I had a problem with my car and it just rattled me a bit."

Bridget put a warm hand on Franky's cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It was just…" Franky shook her head and her bangs fell over her eyes. "I'm okay." Bridget brushed the bangs to the side and gave her a look. "Really. I'm alright. It just happened on the way here so I'm still a bit scattered." She looked at the papers on the bed. "What's this? Vera already sending you work?"

Bridget smiled and winked at her. "These are my discharge papers."

"What? I thought you weren't coming home until tomorrow."

"Doctor Harris is going on his Spring holiday and he felt that one day early wasn't a problem." Something about the look on Franky's face made her wonder. "Is that okay?"

Franky looked at her and smiled. "Is that okay? I can't believe it! Of course, it's okay! It's fucking amazing!" Franky pulled Bridget into a bear hug and lifted her off her feet. "You're coming home!" She set her lover down and leaned back to look at her. "I've missed you," she whispered and then kissed her softly.

Bridget wrapped her arms around Franky's neck. "I've missed you too." She leaned in and kissed Franky softly and then pulled her lover tighter and let the kiss grow more urgent.

A cough at the door startled them and they jumped apart like two teenagers. "Hi, Franky."

"Dr. Harris. Thanks for letting my girl out."

"It's all on her. She's done the work and she feels like she's ready."

Bridget nodded. "I am. I'm ready to get my life back."

She took Franky's hand and the doctor smiled when he saw the look of tenderness in Franky's eyes. "Well," he smiled at the two women, "it looks like you've got support to help you with that."

"I do," Bridget nodded at him.

"Great. Is your paperwork signed?"

"Just one more…" She signed the last one, restacked them and handed them to him. "Can I go now?"

He let out a little laugh. "In a few minutes. We just need to process these and then you're all set."

He left and Bridget turned to Franky. "Where were we?" she asked as she pulled on Franky's shirt and resumed their kiss.

Some moments later, a young nursing assistant walked up with a wheelchair and tapped on the open door. "Miss Westfall… Oh, excuse me." Bridget motioned her into the room. "You're all set. Are you ready for your ride down?"

"Wow! That was fast!" they said together.

"We're here to serve," the perky girl replied.

"Do I have to ride in that?"

"Sorry. Hospital rules. Everyone gets a ride to their car. It's fun!"

"Come on, Gidge. Hop in so we can go home. Do you remember home? Hmm? That nice place in the burbies with hardwood floors, your favorite espresso machine, and that nice… big… bed."

"Ah! Yes! How I've missed my espresso machine." Franky wrinkled her nose at her and she laughed. She grabbed a plastic bag filled with "Get Well" cards, slippers, and her toiletries and plopped into the wheelchair. "High ho, Silver, away."

"Sorry. My name is April."

Franky found it very hard to stifle her laugh.
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Franky shut the car door and smiled as Bridget looked up at her and winked. As she walked around the car, everything seemed to hit her all at once. Bridget was finally coming home but what would that phone call mean for them. She stopped before she opened the door and took a deep breath. She knew someone who could help her… if she was willing to pay the price.

She opened the door and as she got in the car, Bridget leaned over to kiss her. After the long kiss, Franky started the car and headed for home. She held Bridget's hand as they drove in silence and when they got to a stoplight, Franky pulled the hand to her and kissed it softly. Bridget let go and caressed Franky's cheek as Franky tilted her head toward her. Franky could feel her chest getting heavier and it became harder to breathe. "Was this what love felt like?" she wondered to herself.

Franky pulled into the driveway, turned off the car and then rushed around to the left side to open the passenger door. She put out her hand like a chauffeur to help Bridget up and grabbed the plastic bag. She walked Bridget in and set the bag on the floor next to the counter.

"Would you like some coffee or how about some wine?" She started toward the wine rack but Bridget caught her hand and spun her around.

"Right now, I just want you," Bridget answered, kissing her purposefully and slowly.

Franky allowed herself to be kissed and found that her chest was getting heavy again, and she couldn't focus on anything as her hands began to explore the small body in front of her. She squatted and wrapped her arms around Bridget's legs and then lifted her onto the kitchen island; a long, unobstructed counter at a perfect height for accessing sweet, tender parts of her lover's body.

Bridget pulled Franky's shirt over her head while Franky unbuttoned Bridget's white, silk shirt.

Bridget put her hands over Franky's to stop her from removing the shirt. "Shayne?"

Franky smiled as Bridget thought of their young, unofficial foster son. "He's working at the hospital tonight. He's going to be pissed that you came home and he wasn't here."

"It's probably for the best," Bridget purred in Franky's ear as she finished removing her shirt and dropped it on the floor.

Franky could smell the soft perfume on Bridget's neck. She gathered the blond hair in her hand and pulled it to the side as she kissed her lover's neck and nibbled her earlobe. She worked her way back down, tenderly kissing soft skin until she reached the spot between Bridget's breasts. She let go of Bridget's hair and, using both hands, slid her hands across the lacy fabric of the counselor's pale pink bra. Bridget inhaled as Franky's thumbs touched sensitive spots and she buried her hands in Franky's black hair and pulled her up so she could kiss her. While they kissed, Franky reached behind Bridget and unfastened her bra. Bridget let Franky go long enough so she could remove it and then resumed her kissing. Franky's hands caressed Bridget's back and slid down to Bridget's bottom and Bridget let out a low moan when Franky pulled her close, placing her body between Bridget's legs.

Franky ran her fingers along the edge of Bridget's pants around to the front and unbuttoned the top button as she kissed Bridget's neck, but when she got to the second button, Bridget stopped her. Franky looked at her and could see a look of fear in her eyes.

"Do you want to go in the bedroom?" She said as she started to lift Bridget off the counter but Bridget pushed her hands away.

"Stop." Bridget looked at long red lines on her naked arms.

"What is it?" Franky asked softly. "Are you worried about the scars? I don't care." She tried to kiss Bridget but was pushed away. "I want to make love to you." She reached up to caress Bridget's face but her lover pushed her hand away.

"Stop!" Bridget insisted and pushed Franky away with both hands.

Franky backed up against the refrigerator and held her hands up. "Okay. I'm stopping. What's going on?"

"I can't. I can't do this." Bridget jumped off the counter and scooped up her shirt. She put it back on but her hands were shaking so she couldn't button it.

"It's too soon. I get it. We can wait. Let's just sit down over here and we can talk." Franky walked over to the couch.

"No! I don't want to talk. That's all I've done is talk. I just want it all to go away!"

Franky walked up to her. "Okay. We won't talk," she said as she reached up and tried to hug her. "It's gonna be…"

"No, Franky!" She pushed Franky away. "Go away!"

"What?" the younger woman asked, confused.

"Go away! I want you to go away!" Bridget walked around the counter and turned away from her.

Franky waited a moment to see if Bridget would turn around but when she didn't, she picked up her shirt off the floor, put it on, and walked to the door. "Gidge?" she asked but instead of turning around, Bridget walked into the bedroom and locked the door.

Franky grabbed her keys off the table by the door. "Fuck!" she cursed as she walked out.
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Bridget woke up when she heard the car door slam and Franky cursed at herself for being too loud.
She wasn't sure what kind of response she'd get if she met her drunk lover at the door so she decided to wait in their bedroom.

Franky managed to pinball her way from the car to the porch to the door, knocking over a planter along the way. She successfully got the key in the door after dropping it twice. When she opened the door, she flipped on the light and then immediately turned it off. She knew the path to the bedroom: from the door go around the couch and then make a left and go down the hall to the bedroom, or so she thought. She kicked off her shoes and then ran into the couch leg. "Shit."

She removed her jacket and tried to toss it on one of the kitchen stools but it missed by about a meter. She unzipped her pants and tried to pull them off but hit her head on the hallway wall. Bridget heard her whisper "ow" and started to get up just as Franky made it to the door. Franky pointed her head towards the bed and managed to make it around to her side just as her legs gave out. She sat there in black panties on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, her shirt halfway unbuttoned, and one sock discarded somewhere in the hallway.

Bridget sat up and kneeled behind Franky, wrapping one arm over her shoulder and the other around her waist. She held her for a moment and then said, "I'm sorry."

Franky lowered her head and moved it slowly back and forth. "No, I'm sorry. I should have been there. I should have been there…" her body began to shake. "I should have been there to protect you." Bridget felt tears fall on her arm. The counselor held her lover and rocked her as she wept.

"No, Franky, no." She put her hand on Franky's cheek and tried to turn her so she could look into her eyes but Franky wouldn't look at her. She continued to cry with her hands over her face. Bridget put her head against Franky's and continued to rock her. "Franky, if you had been in there then you wouldn't be here with me now. And I need you here with me. I love you and I don't want to lose you. I'm so sorry. Everyone was worried about me and focused on helping me cope with what happened but we forgot about you. I know Kim was important to you. I can't imagine what you must be feeling right now."

"I want to kill her. I want to cut her like she cut you." Tears started falling again. "But I can't… I can't… cuz she's already dead."

"I'm glad you didn't kill her Franky. I'm glad you couldn't. You don't need her blood on your hands; you don't need to see her face as she died. She was someone you cared about…"

Franky turned and cut her off. "No. I didn't." Bridget gave her a puzzled look. "I used her like I used everyone. I didn't know how to care; I couldn't. I only knew two things: anger and sex."

Bridget sat back against the wall and held Franky's hands. "What changed?"

"You." She paused a moment. "Well, mostly you. But before that Boomer… and maybe Red." Franky looked out the window and noticed how the moon looked like the spotlight in the north tower at Wentworth. She spoke slowly, trying to find the right words. "Boomer loved me unconditionally… even though I just used her… and I didn't protect her when Queen Bea had to…" She shook her head to try to remove the image of Boomer's hands in the steam press. "I could have stopped her. But I was thinking about myself. I didn't want to keep fighting with Queen Bea. And I didn't want to risk losing my chances of parole. So I just let her…"

Bridget understood that Franky wasn't going to finish that sentence. Prisoners don't lag. "And Bea? How did she help you?"

"I saw how much she loved Debbie… her daughter?" Bridget nodded that she knew who she was. "My mum never loved me like that. And it nearly killed her when Debbie died. It would have if we hadn't found her hanging from her cell door. She lost so much; but as top dog, she always did what she thought was best for the women, even with the Freak pushing her and me against each other. And that night, in the fire, she could have left me there but she pulled me out. In spite of everything she's lost, she's still a good person."

"Like you."

Franky nodded. "I didn't believe that. I was never good enough for my mum and I thought that meant that I wasn't good. And every time she punished me, I was reminded of that. But you made me wonder if… maybe… I was looking at myself through her eyes, through her anger."

Bridget nodded. "We all do that. The trick is to remove those filters or lenses that others use to see us."

"That's hard. Sometimes I still hear Liz telling me I'm just a scared kid and I think she right."

"It's normal to feel scared some of the time. It means you care about something and you're worried about losing it. It's one of the echoes of loving."

"I like that. What do you mean 'one of'?"

"Well, I think that if it's a healthy relationship, then we should also feel joy and hope. I've had relationships where I never saw a future with them. Everything was day-by-day but I didn't see myself with them twenty years, or ten years, or even five years down the road." Bridget sat up and looked at Franky and she waited until her inebriated partner was able to focus. "You're the first person in my life I ever imagined growing old with."

The tear that ran down Franky's cheek said so much more than words could have.

Bridget wiped away the tear and kissed her softly on the lips. "Come here," Bridget said as she snuggled down under the covers. Franky turned and rolled into Bridget's arms and fell asleep before Bridget could say goodnight.
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The ringing of the cell phone woke Bridget and in the darkness, she reached for it, swiped it open without looking and put it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Kim dead. Now you die."

"What!" Bridget sat up, fully alert but the caller had already hung up.

Franky rolled over and looked at the phone in Bridget's hand. "What's going on?" she asked groggily. Bridget showed her the phone, too shocked to say anything. Franky looked at the artwork on the cover. "That's MY phone."