"Booms, how many times do we have to go over this. You have to start participating in some of these new programs that Governor Bennett has started. I'm doing all I can to help get time shaved off of your sentence but I need you to help yourself."

"Franky, you've been out too long to remember what it's like in here. The Screws don't give a shit about us, they only want to get ahead themselves and they use us to do it. The Governor has us doing arts and fuckin' crafts with some tree huggin' lezzie. Arts and fuckin' crafts Franky!"

From across a wooden table Franky looks at her old friend and smiles. She loves Boomer dearly and although they've had their difficulties in the past, both recognize that they have a shared history that few others will ever experience. She also knows that if she were still an inmate at Wentworth, she'd be telling that tree hugging lesbo to stick her arts and crafts up her arse, but today she isn't here as Boomer's friend, today she is here as Boomer's legal counsel and with that realization she presses her client further.

"Booms, come on, is it really that bad? Gives ya something to do for a little bit, get ya out of the block for a while, yeah?"

Boomer looks down at her hands and keeping her head hung, raises her eyes to meet Franky's, "I reckon I like making dragonflies alright."

"Thanks Booms, maybe you could make me a dragonfly."

"Alright Franky, but I ain't going to see that new counselor, you can forget about that. She walks around here all hoity toity lookin' and tries to talk to us like she knows something. I ain't going to her stupid fuckin' group sessions."

Franky sat back in the heavy plastic chair thinking back to the woman she met in the parking lot. At the thought of Bridget Westfall being a new counselor at Wentworth, Franky couldn't help but admit to herself that were she still an inmate, she would be the first to sign up for individual sessions.

The beeping sound of the conference room door opening snapped Franky back to attention. Officer Miles poked her head through the door and with little expression on either her face or in her voice she flatly stated, "Five minutes," before closing the door again.

"Alright Booms, we'll talk about counseling next week when I come to see ya, okay? In the meanwhile at least go to the art classes. I want you outta here."

Franky pushed her chair away from the table and walked over to the door. As much as she hated Wentworth Prison, it still hurt her to leave her friends behind. She banged hard on the door allowing herself a moment to gather her composure before turning to look at Boomer.

"C'mon, give me a hug."

The large figure loomed over Franky for a second before putting her arms around her and picking her up off the floor in a bear hug.

Officer Miles stood in the door way, "Put her down Jenkins."

Boomer gently placed Franky back on her feet and walked over to Miles, "Next week yeah?"

"Next week Booms, promise."

Officer Miles directed Franky to stay put until someone came to escort her out of the prison and closed the door behind her as she and Boomer made their way down the hall.

Franky walked over to the chair and sat down. For a moment she just sat there motionless, taking in the dank, musty smell of the room. She looked over at the heavy metal door, her eyes scanning over the indentations where too many chairs had been thrust upon it, desperate attempts by too many women who needed to release their anger, despair, frustration. She wondered how many women were given life shattering news in this very room, sitting across this very table? A visit from a chaplain to deliver news of a loved one's death. The visit of a legal aide explaining why another appeal had been denied. This room was full of ghosts and demons and darkness. This room was a mausoleum where hope was laid to rest and for a brief moment, Franky allowed herself to mourn those losses.

Franky was so lost in thought that she didn't hear the door open. It wasn't until a grainy male voice asked, "You ready Doyle?" that she realized she wasn't alone.

"Yeah, let me just throw this shit in my case," and she proceeded to stack her folders on top of each other before putting them in her brief case.

Franky slowly walked side by side with Officer Fletcher as he escorted her down the corridor that led to Wentworth's main yard. Clumsily swiping his key card, he held the door open as Franky stepped outside. In the distance she could see two women talking. She immediately recognized one of them as Governor Vera Bennett and the other woman was unmistakably the beautiful woman she has recently come to know as Bridget Westfall.

Walking along the fenced aisle that curved around Wentworth's recreation yard, Franky found herself quickening her pace as she drew closer to the spot where Vera and Bridget were standing. Officer Fletcher tried hard to meet Franky's stride but she was too fast and too focused on Bridget to notice that he had fallen behind.

"Well, hello Governor Bennett. Aren't you looking rather smart today?"

Bridget immediately honed in on Franky's voice and noted how her eyes sparkled when she was being a wise ass. She thoroughly enjoyed trying to get a rise out of people and Bridget found it so compelling that she consciously had to control her facial expressions.

Governor Bennett rolled her eyes at Franky's backhanded compliment and with a slight smirk on her face replied, "Hello Doyle. I look the way you've always known me to look. I'd say that of the two of us, you're the one who looks rather different."

Feeling a bit of self-satisfaction, Vera raises her eyebrows and smiles a wide grin at Franky.

Completely unaffected by Vera's remarks and with that same sarcastic tone, "Well, I think you look absolutely dashing," and turning to Bridget, "Don't ya think?"

Not the least bit surprised at Franky's maneuver, Bridget stood there, squinty-eyed and smiling and subtly shook her head. She couldn't help but wonder how many women were tripping over themselves to get to Franky Doyle and if she were to be honest with herself, she would have to admit that there had been a time when she would have been amongst those women.

"Franky, this is Bridget Westfall. The Board has recently appointed her as Wentworth's Forensic Psychologist."

Extending her hand as if they are just meeting for the first time, Franky looks at Bridget with a mocking grin, "Psychologist? I have a lot of issues, would you be willing to spend some time helping me to work through them?"

Bridget tilts her head and although her face doesn't betray her, Franky notices that her eyes are smiling as she responds, "And what issues would those be?"

Franky laughs as she looks at Governor Bennett, "I reckon you'll find that out soon enough," and looking at Bridget gives a little wink.

Bridget observes that the dynamic between Franky and Vera is somewhat unsettling. Beneath the seemingly playful exchanges between the two women, she senses a subtle tension lying just beneath the surface.

"Vera, Gidget, it's been fun catching up but I've other shit to do. Would someone mind opening this gate and letting me out of this shithouse?"

Officer Fletcher steps forward from behind the women and limps over to the main gate leading out of Wentworth. He swipes his key card and after a second delay, opens the gate for Franky. As she steps across the threshold she turns and looks at Bridget.

"See ya 'round soon Gidget."

Through a smile Bridget corrects her, "Bridget!"

"Oh, right. Bridget. See ya 'round soon Gidget," laughing, she bites her bottom lip and walks away.

As Bridget watches Franky disappear down the slope leading to the parking lot, she thinks to herself, "God, not too soon I hope."

"Bridget, do you care to walk back to my office with me and I'll get you that paperwork you need?"

Almost forgetting that Vera was standing next to her, the sound of the Governor's voice is almost startling to Bridget. Not entirely sure what questioned was just asked of her, she looks at Vera and with a feigned smile says, "Of course."

The two women walk silently along the fenced corridor for a moment. Bridget, ever so quick to process information, replays the exchange between Franky and Vera. There is something between them, unspoken but faintly palpable.

"So, about Franky Doyle, you never quite told me what her business is here at Wentworth. You seem quite familiar with one another."

"She's a barrister. She provides legal counsel to some of the women. Helps with appeals and such."

The hurried way in which Vera made that last comment confirmed Bridget's suspicions that there was more to her acquaintanceship with Franky than merely that of Governor and legal counsel. Through innate ability and expert training, Bridget has become masterful at hearing what people aren't saying. Like a laser with pin point accuracy, she senses the unconscious nuances that unfold during social exchanges and since their first introduction, Vera Bennett has proven to be an easy read.

Approvingly, Bridget commends Vera for her interest in the women, "It's very admirable that you've taken the time to become acquainted with the women's support network. Not many people in your position can say the same."

Governor Bennett felt a rush of warmth flow through her body and had to suppress a smile at the compliment. "Thank you Bridget, I do try to make Wentworth a better place for the women than it used to be. I'm sure you've heard the stories of our former Governor. I have worked very hard to change the image of this prison."

"Well, clearly by your interaction with Franky I can see that you have gone out of your way to ensure familiarity with those who are in the women's lives. It is very nice to see."

"Well, as far as Franky's concerned, I'm certain you know that she is a different story entirely."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

Stopping outside of the door that leads into the hallway of Wentworth, Vera Bennett moves half a step closer to Bridget and with raised eyebrows asks, "Are you truly unfamiliar with who Franky Doyle is? You haven't heard the others speak of her?"

Although surprised by the Governor's question, she simply shook her and responded, "No, what do you mean?"

Sensing that Bridget was being honest in her reply, Vera merely offered, "Franky used to be Top Dog."

Letting a little chuckle slip from between her lips, "Top Dog of what exactly?"

Swiping her key card and pulling open the door, Vera amusedly looks at Bridget and before stepping into the corridor states, "Wentworth."

For a brief second Bridget thought she misunderstood what Vera said. Looking at the Governor standing there holding the door open, three words found their way into Bridget Westfall's consciousness: "Franky. Doyle. Inmate."

Bridget stood stoically. Looking at Governor Bennett, she placed the palm of her hand on her stomach and swiped at that invisible crumb before stepping through the doorway.