A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows, and favourites. You guys are amazing!
"Come in," called a cheerful voice after Emma knocked on the door bearing the plaque Counsellor A. W. Booth.
Emma pushed the door open and walked inside. Behind an untidy desk sat a smiling, bearded man. He was younger than Emma had anticipated, no older than thirty, and his blue eyes twinkled in a friendly way as he gestured for Emma to take a seat in the chair opposite his own.
"Hello Swan," he greeted. "My name is Booth and I'll be your counsellor whilst you're at FCI."
"Hi," Emma said quietly.
"How are you settling it?" he asked, reaching into his filing cabinet and locating Emma's file.
"Pretty well I think," Emma said. "My bunk mate has been really nice and I've met a few other inmates who seem friendly too."
Booth nodded absently as he scanned the first few pages of Emma's notes.
"Ok, so you were busted for possession of stolen property," he read. "Eleven months for a first offence. That's pretty steep."
Emma shrugged. "My lawyer said it was because the watches were worth so much. I think it was because he was only about a year older than me."
The man gave a light chuckle before he frowned down at the notes in front of him. "And yet you were only caught with one watch?"
"Yes," Emma confirmed. "But they think I know where the others are."
"And do you?" Booth asked.
"In a manner of speaking," she shrugged. Emma knew Neal had the watches, she just didn't know the exact location of her ex.
Booth decided not to probe further. "So this meeting is really just for you to meet me and ask any questions etcetera. Also, we'll be discussing your work detail. We encourage inmates to acquire useful skills whilst inside. It helps when securing employment once you get out."
Emma nodded, smiling at the relaxed, easy going attitude her counsellor seemed to have. She was glad he hadn't asked about Neal or her trial. She knew she was supposed to be able to talk to Booth about anything but Emma didn't want to discuss either subject on her first day inside.
"So any questions?"
"Just one," Emma said. "My lawyer arranged for some money to go into my commissary but I don't think it will last long. How do I go about getting more in the account?"
"There are two ways to do that. Firstly, ask a friend or family member on the outside to transfer some money across. It's very easy to do. They just need your prisoner number and the name of the facility you're in, and they can do it by calling a free number." Booth slid a small card with the instructions printed on across his desk.
"Not an option," Emma declared, pushing the card aside.
Booth raised an eyebrow and the finality of the statement and action but continued. "Option two is working in here. Inmates get paid 43 cents per hour. It's not much, I know, but it adds up and will ensure you have enough money to buy essentials from commissary."
"What sort of work is available?" Emma asked.
"I think we've got a couple of slots open and they'll be allocated on a first come first serve basis," Booth said, rummaging for another piece of paper. "Erm, yes we have a detail in electrical, and another in laundry."
"Both sound equally shit," Emma grumbled.
Booth laughed. "Well criminals don't exactly get luxury treatment, I'm afraid. You're going to have to suck it up."
"Do I have to decide today?"
"No, but the sooner you do, the sooner you'll start work and the more likely it will be that you'll get your preferred job. The money you earn will be deposited every week into your commissary," Booth advised.
"Ok, can I come back this afternoon and let you know my decision."
"Of course. Is there anything else, Swan?"
"No, that's all I think."
"Ok, well it was nice to meet you and please come by any time. My door is always open," the young man smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did.
"How was Booth?" Red asked as she walked into their bunk two hours later.
"Fine, he seems nice," Emma replied from where she lay on her bed filing her nails with a miniature, cardboard emory board she purchased from commissary after her meeting. She had passed the morning organising her new possessions and finding the best hiding place for her padlock key. She'd settled on her bra.
"Get your work detail?"
"I have a choice - electrical or laundry. Any advice?"
"Laundry," Red confirmed as she fished around in her cabinet for her toiletries. "Boyd works there so you'll have a friendly face. Plus, most of the time you're just sat around waiting for the machine cycles to finish. It's a pretty easy gig."
"Great, thanks," Emma grinned. "Are you coming to lunch?"
"I've gotta shower first," Red said, gesturing to her soil stained hands. "Gardening is sweaty work, even in February."
Emma laughed and stood up. "I guess I'll see you after then."
Lunch appeared to be some form of shepherd's pie served with over boiled peas which had turned an unappetising dark green colour. Helping herself to orange juice, Emma turned and scanned the hall for a familiar face. When she found none, she headed towards an empty table and sat down.
Tucking into the surprisingly tasty, if a little too salty, meal, Emma looked around surreptitiously as she ate. The dining hall was loud, snatches of conversations drifting to her ears as fellow inmates chatted to each other over lunch. The women seemed happy enough, and it was evident to Emma that close friendships and bonds could be developed here.
As she wondered about who might become her closest friend, a tall redheaded woman slipped into the seat opposite her. Emma raised her head at the movement and was stunned by the intense grey-blue eyes she found staring back at her.
"Hi," she muttered, focusing back on her food. Something seemed off with this woman and Emma didn't want to find out what.
"Well hello to you too dear," the woman said, her British accent surprising Emma. "What's your name?"
"Swan," Emma replied, not wanting to cause offence by being rude nor invite further conversation by asking the other woman a question.
"Nice to meet you Swan, I'm West," she said in a friendly tone as she tucked into her own meal.
"What are you doing, West?" came a familiar voice from behind Emma.
Whipping her head around, Emma looked up into the unforgettable face of the brunette she had seen in the bathroom and again earlier that morning. This time however, she was not alone. Stood just behind her was the blonde woman from commissary, a young black girl Emma thought she recognised from the bathroom, and a platinum blonde woman with a permanent sneer etched across her pinched face.
"Hello sis," said the woman opposite Emma. At that, the blonde whipped her head back around to stare at the grey eyed woman. How on earth was she related to the brunette beauty behind her? They were chalk and cheese in terms of appearance.
"Don't call me that," drawled Regina. "And stop trying to recruit the new inmates into your non existent posse. They'll soon see you for the wicked bitch you really are. Keep yourself to yourself and you can finish your sentence in peace."
To Emma's ears, the brunette's words sounded very much like a veiled threat. She couldn't believe such a composed, presumably educated, and stunningly beautiful woman would be capable of violence. But then, Emma laughed to herself, she didn't know what the brunette was in prison for.
"Something funny, Miss Swan?" Regina asked, directing her attention to the seated blonde.
Shit, Emma thought. I must have laughed out loud.
"No," Emma mumbled, turning back to her food and shovelling in a mouthful.
"Leave now please, West," Regina said, turning back to her sister.
"Make me," West challenged.
Quick as a flash, the three women who had previously been stood behind Regina darted around and dragged West from her seat, throwing her to the floor. The platinum blonde landed a well placed kick to West's stomach and the redhead curled in on herself, crying out in pain. Emma jumped to her feet, not sure what to do but knowing she had to do something. A hand landed firmly on her shoulder, forcing her back down. Regina kept her hand in place, feeling the young blonde shaking with fear as she calmly watched her three friends continue to kick her sister.
Inmates all around had stood from their lunches and rushed to watch, cat calling and jeering as the women continued their assault. The commotion alerted a nearby guard who ran towards the group, shouting and pulling his baton from his belt. The circle of inmates parted to let the man through, and he pulled the black woman away from West first, followed by the commissary attendant. The lanky woman stopped of her own accord when her fellow attackers were pushed forcibly against the nearby wall, slinking to stand behind Regina.
The guard, whose badge told Emma his name was Hunter, crouched down beside the injured redhead, speaking rapidly into his radio and checking West for obvious injuries.
Sitting up slowly, the redhead pushed Hunter's hand away, unwilling to show any more weakness than she already had. A pale hand came up to wipe the blood from her lip before she glanced up at the brunette who was standing a little way away and looking down with a satisfied smirk on her face.
"Alright, everyone sit back down and get on with your lunch," Hunter barked.
The crowd dispersed quickly, Regina and her remaining companion included.
"Not you Mills, Feinberg," Hunter called after their retreating forms.
The two women turned around, and one glance from Regina forced Feinberg to walk and stand next to the black woman and the other blonde, both of whom still had their backs against the wall.
Another guard jogged into the room, heading straight for the three women.
"What happened?" he asked Hunter who was still kneeling beside West.
"Bitch fight," Hunter muttered. "Nolan, do me a favour and take those three and Mills to see the warden. I'm taking West to the infirmary."
"I'm fine," West spat as she pushed herself to stand on wobbly legs.
"You don't have a choice inmate," Hunter declared, pushing her gently towards the door. Scowling, the redhead conceded and began to limp from the dining hall.
Nolan led the other four women in the opposite direction. Regina walked tall and strong, her brunette hair perfectly styled whilst her slightly dishevelled group marched along behind her.
Emma watched the events unfold in silence. When all five women had left the room, the blonde remembered she had been eating lunch before everything had gone crazy. Now, she found her appetite had disappeared and she pushed her half eaten dinner away. Emma sat in a stupor, hardly able to believe what she had seen but after a couple of minutes, she dumped her leftovers and headed back to her bunk.
"Hey," Red greeted, looking up from the magazine she was flicking through as Emma entered. "You ok? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"There was a fight," Emma said numbly.
"Ah," Red nodded knowingly, closing the glossy pages before her. "Who was it?"
"Mills and her hench women started kicking the shit out of some red-haired girl who was talking to me."
"West talked to you?" Red asked, standing up before crossing to sit beside Emma.
"Yeah, why?" Emma turned to look at her bunkmate.
"I thought she'd learnt her lesson after last time," Red said. At Emma's blank expression, she elaborated. "Mills and West are sisters. Different fathers hence the different surnames. They hate each other and they've been feuding ever since West got sentenced here before Christmas. She's the only one in this hell hole stupid enough to take on Mills. Not that she'll ever win."
"So Mills is top dog?"
"Exactly," Red nodded. "You don't mess with the queen."
"Why did West talk to me?"
Red shrugged. "She probably wanted to make you her friend before anyone poisoned you against her. Everyone who's been in here a day knows she's radioactive because of her feud with Mills. Being friendly with West is a sure way to get your ass kicked by the queen's cronies."
"But Mills started the fight unprovoked," Emma said, confused.
"How do you mean?"
"She came over to us. West sat at my table and Mills came and told her sister to stop talking to me. Why would she do that? Why does she care if I talk to West or not?"
Red considered the question. "I'm not sure. Had you ever seen Mills before?"
"Twice," Emma confirmed, flushing slightly at the thought of how awkward and dorky she had been during both encounters.
"Hmmm, maybe she sees some potential in you. She probably doesn't want you teaming up with West. Or she wants you all to herself."
Emma's eyebrows raised and her cheeks darkened further at the offhand comment but Red didn't notice. She had already returned to her own bunk and reopened her magazine.
"Want to do a quiz to find out what your spirit animal is? I'm a wolf," she grinned, baring her teeth in a mock snarl.
Emma laughed and nodded, folding her legs underneath her and trying to concentrate on the questions Red was asking. Despite her best efforts, she was unable to banish the face of a certain brunette from her mind.