Tempus Fugit

Fandom – Wentworth

Pairing – Franky and Bridget

Rating – M (bad language throughout and adult content much later on)

Summary – Alternative/Extended ending to Season 3 where Franky's parole is delayed due to the fire. Bridget returns to work at Wentworth but it's a struggle to throw up professional boundaries again after she had let them previously slip.

Chapter 1

Franky POV

As Franky gradually slipped into consciousness she became aware of her dark, stale smelling and uncomfortable surroundings. He cell at Wentworth wasn't exactly luxurious but it was nowhere near as grim as her current sleeping arrangements. She was in the slot. Instead of waking up in her cell and getting ready to walk out the prison gates she was in solitary confinement, her parole totally fucked for god knows how long and all because of that freak Ferguson. Well maybe it wasn't all Ferguson's fault. It had started when Jess, the little psychopath, had snatched little Josh under Doreen's sleeping nose and pissed off into the depths of the prison with him.

Franky wasn't really sure how it had all came about but a fire had been started in the storage area under the kitchen. She was convinced the Freak had set the fire although burning down your own prison didn't exactly make much sense. Perhaps it had been Jess who'd actually set the fire when Ferguson had confronted her. Either way Jess Warner was, as far as Franky knew, the only person unaccounted for after the fire. It was likely she was dead and Franky couldn't bring herself to care.

When Bea had asked her to help look for little Josh she had gone without question. It would have been easy to follow everyone else outside to safety and convinced herself there was nothing she could have done to help. She had been convinced for days Ferguson was going to find a way of bumping her off or screwing her parole which in a way had numbed her to the risks of staying in the burning building. Plus it was the right thing to do. Ferguson had fucked Nash's parole leaving Doreen without the support of her baby's father. How could Franky let her lose her baby as well? And maybe, just maybe she saw it as a real shot at redemption because deep down she hadn't believed she had really earnt her parole. Now at least she felt like she had earnt it even if it had been fucking revoked.

She hadn't considered that there would be consequences to disregarding procedure, disobeying the screw's and staying in the burning building. It wasn't like she had expected a hero's welcome for her actions…she just hadn't really expected to survive to live the tale. Surviving didn't seem like a reward at all now she was probably stuck in Wentworth for the rest of her sentence.

After becoming accustomed the dreary light of the slot again Franky sat up on the bed and instantly regretted it. Her head throbbed, her throat and chest were red raw from breathing in all the smoke and her body felt like a freight train had hit it. She began to cough violently and she stumbled to her feet to try and get a tumbler of water to ease the choking feeling. With every cough she felt progressively dizzier and she barely managed to fill the glass with water from the sink before sliding down the wall and sitting on the floor with her legs stuck out in front of her.

She felt like shit and all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep. It was in stark contrast to her original plan of exiting Wentworth, seeking out Bridget Westfall and fucking her fucking senseless…or something slightly more romantic. Now she didn't know if she'd ever see the beautiful psychologist again. The blonde no longer worked at Wentworth and with Franky's stay in the women's correctional facility now likely to run for another two years she hardly expected Bridget to wait around for her. The fact the older woman was currently single was remarkable enough but Franky couldn't picture it staying that way. Some lucky bitch would snap Bridget up whilst Franky lost hope and rotted away in this dump.

She had known nothing that good could ever really happen to her, something was always going to fuck up and stand in the way of her happiness. Ever since she had been a child life had this remarkable way of shitting on her. Not even the knowledge that the Freak was carted off to be incarcerated somewhere could brighten her mood. All she could think of was the burning in her throat and the burning in her chest…both figuratively and literally.

Just as she was feeling particularly sorry for herself heavy footfalls echoed down the corridor. They were the footsteps of a man, obviously one of the screws, and the stopped outside her door. After a few seconds the door opened and Mr Fletcher entered carrying a tray. He regarded her as she sat slumped on the floor. The guy was swimming across her blurry vision but she could still see the look of pity on his face. Usually it would piss her off but this morning she didn't have the energy to care.

"Doyle" he greeted politely, "I come bearing painkillers and breakfast."

He bent down and placed the tray next to her before handing her the little plastic cup with whatever painkillers in the medical staff had saw fit to give her. She accepted them silently, afraid she would choke again if she tried to talk. After tossing back the contents of the cup and swilling them down her throat with water she turned her attention to breakfast. The kitchen area had been pretty much destroyed so she knew it wouldn't be the usual prison issue cooked breakfast. They were probably having to have cold food shipped in as an emergency so she expected to see cereal or some sort of continental pastry. Instead she found she had what looked like beans and egg which had been put through a blender. There was also a tumbler of milk.

"It doesn't look very appealing but apparently it should be easily palatable" Mr Fletcher explained at her apparent look of disgust. He had remained bent down next to her whilst she had taken her tablets but now rose to his feet.

Franky managed a tight smile and nod in his direction, acknowledging the fact he was trying to be sympathetic towards her. Mr Fletcher had never had much time for her and she'd always found him pretty miserable even for a screw but she had to admit he'd been more pleasant in general since he'd gotten T boned by a van.

"I'll ask for the nurse to come and see you" he finished before backing out of the room.

The door swung shut again with a loud echoing thud which did little for Franky's pulsing headache. She listened as his steps echoed down the corridor, gradually getting further and further away until there was only silence again. The smell of the liquefied food sat alongside her made her feel like she was about to wretch so she shuffled away from the tray until she reached the bed. It took a monumental effort to stand up again and when she did it was only long enough for her to collapse back on the bed. She was asleep again within minutes.

lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

Bridget's POV

It was quite a cool crisp day but it was still and dry so Bridget had left the roof of the convertible off. She'd always wanted a Porsche Boxter but never been quite flash enough to purchase one despite a considerable amount of savings stashed away after her parent's deaths. It was only after hearing Franky's ideal leaving scenario that she finally splashed out and upgraded to the car of her dreams.

The drive from her home by Fitzroy Gardens to Wentworth wasn't too long and one she had become accustomed to in her time employed at the correctional facility. It felt like a very different journey today even though it was only an hour after she would normally have left for work and the roads were still busy with morning commuters. She wasn't driving to a day of work she was driving to the place she would be picking up the most intriguing and beautiful woman she had ever met from.

The brunette inmate had taken her breath away in the first instant she had seen her but it was Franky's charisma and cheeky charm that had ultimately been Bridget's undoing. She had fallen so head over heels in love with the inmate that she had resigned from a job she adored just to protect the younger woman. Now Bridget was hoping she hadn't misread the situation and that Franky would be as happy to see her as she was at the prospect of seeing the brunette.

The younger woman was obviously a natural flirt so Bridget hadn't read into the banter too much the first couple of comments Franky made in her direction. It was quickly apparent though that they did have a connection that simmered away, barely kept below boiling point by the professional nature of their relationship. Bridget had been determined that nothing could happen whilst at Wentworth especially when they were patient and therapist. Luckily Franky had respected her enough to keep some sort of distance although the inmate had pressed against the boundaries at times. The closest they had come to overstepping the mark had been in between the stacks in the library when the brunette had practically bounced up and down in an attempt to redirect her energy and restrain herself from kissing Bridget. For her part Bridget was sure that if she had dared open her eyes and looked at the inmate whilst soft lips were hovering so close to her own she'd have given in. As it was she had hung on to her decorum by a thread.

The drive was nearly complete and it wasn't until she pulled in to the secondary staff car park just a hundred yards down the road from the staff entrance that she realised something was amiss. There were far too many cars parked in what was basically a guest and overspill car park for nine in the morning. It was only usually this full on weekends when there were visiting hours. One of the things that stuck her immediately was that some of the vehicles were vans with antennas on. That meant the media was at Wentworth and that could never be a good thing. She parked the Porsche up and got out, walking on foot down the last stretch of road despite her previous plan to sit in her car and wait. If something had happened and there was a media storm brewing they were highly unlikely to release Franky into the middle of crowd of journalists.

Ahead of her, by the gates, she could see around twenty people gathered. Some had Dictaphones, some had cameras and there was even the odd video camera present. She was so busy looking ahead at the crowd of people that she didn't even register the car passing her on the road until Derek Channing climbed out of the passenger seat of the vehicle only yards in front of her. The car rolled on and he silently pushed through the crown of inquisitive journalists, ignoring their questions. Bridget pushed through after him and was right behind him by the time her reached the gate. Ahead of them she could see Vera Bennett waiting just behind the main gate to let him in.

"Derek" Bridget called out, determined to find out what the hell was going on.

He turned back to look at who had called him by his name and looked surprised to see her. As she had resigned it was no wonder he looked confused by her presence but she didn't give a flying fuck what he thought about her sudden reappearance right now. She had a terrible feeling in her gut and she needed reassurance that Franky was okay. It would be just like Ferguson to pull some sort of shit to prevent the inmate's release. Bridget was damn sure the Governor had tried to fuck up her parole hearing and that's why Franky had been so ill on the day.

The gate opened before she had a chance to speak and Vera ushered both of them through the first two security gates so they were out of sight and out of ear shot of the media. The second they were behind the second gate Vera grasped Bridget's arm preventing her from going any further.

"I'll follow you inside" Vera instructed Channing. He nodded and walked on towards the main building.

Despite the fact she was stressing about what the hell was going on Bridget instantly picked up on something strange. Miss Bennett had said she would follow him inside…not that the Governor was inside. That implied that Vera was currently in charge of the site as acting Governor. Had Ferguson not arrived yet or had shit hit the fan and the psychopath's reign of terror had ended? Bridget knew Vera had gone to the board about Ferguson because she had received a call asking for her to attend a meeting in two days' time to back up Vera's claims. That being so the board wouldn't act until the claims could be substantiated and it certainly wouldn't cause a media circus like this.

"Vera what the hell is going on?" she asked as soon as Channing was far enough away not to hear their conversation. Vera glanced sideways to check he truly was paying them no mind before beginning to talk in a hushed voice.

"There was a fire last night" the prison officer explained. "We think Ferguson started it but we can't prove anything yet. An inmate is dead."

Bridget's heart felt like it was plummeting in her chest and she struggled to take in oxygen. That terrible gut feeling she had been feeling since seeing the extra cars now felt like it was suffocating her.

"Franky?!" she managed to splutter out. She was unsure if she wanted the answer or not.

"Doyle is okay" Vera assured her. The hand resting on Bridget's arm to prevent her moving any further now squeezed gently in reassurance. "She's a bit bashed around but there will be no long lasting physical effects."

Bridget felt all that tension in her chest release and she slumped back against the concrete outer wall. The prison officer released her arm and stood silently in front of her, her head dipped so that Bridget couldn't see her expression. Years of training and experience told Bridget via the other woman's tense body language that she hadn't been told the full story yet and that it wasn't all good news. Well obviously it wasn't all good news anyway as someone had died but this was obviously specifically relating to Franky Doyle or Vera wouldn't look so sheepish.

"So is she still getting released today or have you had to delay it?" Bridget finally asked. She supposed that if Franky was in medical that would delay her release and the staff probably had to use their resources to deal with the crisis today not sign off release forms and procedure. She had waited this long…she could cope with waiting another day or two.

"Bridget….her parole has been revoked" Vera responded slowly.

With just a few words the prison officer sent Bridget's world back into a spin again. The reality of the situation came crashing down upon the blonde and she found herself sliding down the wall and sitting on the pathway in front of the other woman. If Franky's parole had been revoked then she would have to see out the rest of her sentence. That would mean a further two years at Wentworth for the inmate. Bridget knew how bored and dispirited Franky was becoming at being incarcerated and she couldn't imagine how the fuck the younger woman would cope for that period of time without cracking up. She didn't know how the fuck she would cope with only being able to see the brunette once every week or two during visiting hours.

"She and Smith stayed in the building despite being ordered out because Anderson's baby was still inside" Vera began to explain after a brief silence. "It not only broke regulations but there is also no way to instantly count either of them out of the having something to do with Warner's death until the forensics come back with answers."

Everything felt and sounded so hazy as she struggled to find her composure again. Bridget could hear the other woman talking at her but it was taking her longer than normal to actually process the words. When she did finally realise what Franky was being accused of she managed to snap herself out of her daze and haul herself back to her feet.

"She wouldn't…" Bridget began to fervently defend the woman she had fallen in love with but Vera raised a hand and stopped her in her tracks.

"I know that" the brunette snapped irritably. Bridget looked apologetically at the obviously stressed woman stood in front of her. They had fell in to a tentative trust because of the Ferguson situation and if Franky was stuck in Wentworth for a while longer then Bridget needed to keep this woman on side.

Vera rubbed her hands over her face roughly which was yet another sign that she was carrying a lot of stress. She glanced towards the main building into which Channing had long since disappeared before letting out a deep sigh and returning her focus to Bridget.

"I need to go sort this shit storm out and you need to get the hell out of here or people will start asking awkward questions. I'll call you later okay?"

Bridget nodded silently in response. The fact Vera was offering to keep her in the loop was more than she had the right to ask for. It pained her to walk away knowing Franky was probably either in medical or in isolation just a hundred or so feet away and she could even see her to give some sort of comfort. Yet there was no other choice but to go home and wait for news. She didn't even hear the questions the journalist were firing her way as she walked past them, nor did she even really register the walk to her car. It was only when she reached the relative safety of the Boxter's leather driver's seat that the emotions came pouring out. She crumpled forward against the steering wheel and the tears ran until her eyes stung.