Title: The Caged Bird's Song

Pairing: Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry, Rachel Berry/Finn Hudson, Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

Summary: Hitting a dead end in her life, Rachel procures a job at a prison just outside of Lima, Ohio by way of prison guard, Finn Hudson. Dreams deferred, the last thing Rachel expected was to have her ambition restored by an infuriating inmate and her band of detainees.

A/N: After marathoning the hell out of Orange is the New Black and Wentworth, I've combined some of the plots of both shows, and added a Glee spin on it. Both shows are completely awesome and highly recommended. I hope you all enjoy the fic!


At age twenty-three and fresh out of college, Rachel had once expected a myriad of accomplishments to already be under her belt. She had expected to have her own apartment in New York, and wait tables during the day while starring in Broadway plays at night. She had expected to be passionately and wholeheartedly in love with someone who supported her career and could handle her more neurotic tendencies. She had expected to be signing autographs and to be that much closer to her first Tony award.

One thing she hadn't expected, however, was to be in prison.

Well, not in prison as an inmate so much as in prison as in working in one. But if it was one thing all the prison documentaries she had binge-watched over the weekend had taught her, it was that working at a prison was only one step above actually being incarcerated. The only perk was that she got to go home at the end of the day and enjoy a nice, fungus free shower. And she supposed twenty-four-seven visitation rights with her family was another joy. But really, she hadn't expected to be ripped from New York City and thrown right back into the fishbowl that was Lima, Ohio straight out of college, or ever really. She had worked her ass off to ensure she never had to return and yet…here she was.

Rachel slid out of her car with more than a little apprehension. Perhaps she should have thought twice before agreeing to this job. But she was more than a little poor, and working in the education department of the Lima Penitentiary was one of the only jobs that paid more than minimum wage, and one of the only jobs she applied for that actually called her back. Student loans weren't going to pay themselves, and she had spent six months in New York searching for theater work before she moved back, unable to keep up the rent on her apartment, and knee deep in loans to repay.

Smoothing down the collar of her maroon button up blouse, Rachel closed her car door and walked toward the prison gates. It looked as dreary as Rachel imagined, and she wondered if all the documentaries were true—that prison was nothing more than a zoo inhabited by cold-blooded killers, rapists, and repeat offenders who just couldn't get it right. Her throat bobbed with a tight swallow as she wondered how this became her life. She was meant for bright lights and legions of fans, not working somewhere as potentially dangerous as a prison. It wasn't fair to the hours, years she had slaved over perfecting her talent for it to fall by the wayside in such a disappointing way.

But she told herself there would always be time for her career, that her talent had staying power, and that there would always be a chance for her to be famous. As she walked up to the eight foot high gate and pressed the intercom button, it was all she could tell herself to get her through.

"Yes, hello?" a male voice, thickened with an accent spoke.

Rachel pressed a green button and spoke into the receiver. "Hi—yes. I'm Rachel Barbra Berry. I'm the new employee in the education department. And I'm here to report for work."

It was silent for a moment, and she glanced around, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She didn't know how prison worked, but she assumed prisoners weren't allowed beyond the gates. So technically, she was safe.

She jumped when a loud horn blared while the gates opened to allow her entry. Recovering, Rachel placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart and walked through the gates.

They closed with finality behind her.

Heels clacked against the tilted floors as Rachel strolled through the door and into the prison. She glanced down at the checkered floors, then around the room to take in her surroundings. There were a few people to her far right sitting on a couch, and a line of people walking through a metal detector directly in front of her. Unsure of where she was supposed to go, she hesitantly walked forward and filed in line. When it came her time to pass through, she froze in confusion. "Umm, do I—"

"Place your briefcase on the table to be searched then pass through the line," the officer instructed in a blasé voice. He was a slim man of medium height and spiked hair.

Rachel nodded hurriedly and placed her briefcase of lesson plans on the table to be searched by him as she walked through the metal detector. She was handed her briefcase a moment later. "If I were you I'd take off that ring and hide it before an inmate steals it. Or worse, finds a way to kill you with it."

Horror stricken, Rachel gawked at him.

He shrugged. "They're creative that way."

She pried the ring off her finger, thanking him quietly before traveling through the double doors on her left, the only exit. She walked through the narrow hallway and spied the camera in a corner of the ceiling at the end of the hall with a sigh. No, she wasn't a prisoner, but she may as well have been. There was a buzz then a clank as the door unlocked and she pushed her way inside.

Fear shot down her spine and she stopped cold as two inmates walked past her. The first one—Santana Lopez, with long, black hair—came to a stop and turned around to face Rachel with narrowed eyes. The one beside her, Brittany, a tall woman with long blonde hair and big blue eyes stared at her curiously as she followed behind her counterpart. They were dressed in navy blue jumpsuits and orange slip-on shoes with no shoelaces—Rachel mentally called on one of the documentaries she had watched over the weekend. Shoelaces were viewed as a weapon, one that inmates could use to strangle other inmates with, or even end their own lives. She rubbed her lips together in uneasiness. What had she signed on for?

Santana stepped closer until she was toe to toe with Rachel, towering over her by no more than an inch or two. Rachel gulped, avoiding eye contact as if Santana were an animal and directly challenging her with eye contact would set her off. "Watch where you're going, Tiny," Santana growled above her.

Rachel lowered her briefcase from her chest to her side as Santana took a step back. She tried her best to smile through her anxiousness. "I apologize profusely for nearly colliding with you," Rachel spoke, meeting first Santana's hardened gaze then Brittany's ever-curious eyes. "You see, it's my first day, and I'm not really sure where I'm going."

Santana stared at her for a long moment as if Rachel belonged in the back row of a remedial class then pointed to a door at her right. "Go there," she instructed.

Rachel nodded. "Yes, well, I'll be on my way. And I apologize again." She walked away in the direction Santana pointed to, then turned around. "Excuse me?"

Brittany turned around first, followed by Santana, who made a show of folding her arms across her chest in impatience.

"I-it just occurred to me that I didn't ask for any of your names." She took a half step forward and cautiously extended her hand. "I'm Rachel Barbra Berry. And you are?"

Santana scoffed. "Leaving." She turned on her heel and began to walk back to the prison cells down the hallway.

Brittany stepped forward and shook Rachel's hand with a small, encouraging smile. "I'm Brittany. But we all go by last names around here, so you can just call me Pierce."

She was like a ray of sunshine in this dismal prison, and Rachel couldn't help but return a genuine smile. "Thank you, Bri—Pierce."

Brittany seemed to understand that she was being thanked for more than just the information she provided, and she smiled brighter before taking off and skipping down the hallway after Santana.

Rachel peeked into the office to find officers Finn, Schuester, Puck, Burt, Kurt, and warden Figgins already inside. Figgins was sitting at the round table nursing a cup of coffee. Schuester was at the other end of the table reading the newspaper, and Finn and Puck were by the water cooler.

Finn looked over at Rachel with a smile, motioning for her to come closer. "Everyone, this is the newest member to our staff. I'd like you all to meet Rachel Berry." Finn wrapped an arm around Rachel. "This is Noah Puckerman. He goes by Puck, William Shuester; just call him Schue. Burt and his son Kurt. And finally, Figgins—the warden.

She smiled shyly at them all. "Good morning, everyone. It's nice to meet you all. I can't wait to work with everyone."

Schuester glanced up from his paper with a smile, and Figgins, mid-sip, offered a kind wave.

She smiled in kind and tucked herself into Finn's side.

Puck looked from Rachel to Finn then back again. "How you like it so far?"

Her eyes dimmed a fraction, though her smile remained the same. "A job's a job, Puckerman. And I'm certainly grateful Finn was able to pull some strings."

Finn beamed proudly at the both of them, and tugged Rachel closer into an embrace.

Just then the door burst open to reveal Officer Sue Sylvester, holding a tray of steaming cups. "Coffee, anyone?"

Mike followed in behind her and greeted everyone with a smile before taking a seat.

Sue gestured to the cups she had placed on the table. "Coffee, Michael? The most expensive, rich, delicious brew you could ever hope to grace your taste buds with."

"That's Mike Chang," Finn whispered to Rachel who watched the display. "And the scary, tall lady who keeps going on about her expensive coffee—" she giggled and he smiled, "—is Sue Sylvester."

Mike shrugged and grabbed a cup. Curious, Burt and Kurt both walked toward the table and grabbed a cup.

Figgins sighed as he polished off his own cup. He placed it down on the table then glanced at Schuester. "It's time to let Sullivan out of solitary confinement, William."

Schuester dropped his newspaper on the table in muted shock. He repositioned himself in his seat and stared head on at Figgins. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Rachel's interest piqued at the concentrated way Schuester attempted to control his voice.

Figgins sighed. "I do not like the idea any more than any of you, but my hands are tied. In case none of you have noticed, Fabray has been building a small army since the moment Sullivan left. With no one to challenge her, how long before that small army turns on us?"

"Wait a minute," Burt cut in. "Are you seriously suggesting we provide Fabray with an enemy in order to protect our own asses?"

"Do you have a better idea, dad?"

He sighed heavily and glared at his son, then across the room at Figgins. "That's the best we've got?"

"It's a prison, Hummel, not the real world," Sue quibbled. "The motto here is: 'Eat or be eaten.' Actually, that's the motto in the real world, too."

"Your world, maybe," Schuester bit out. "But I don't agree with letting Sullivan out of solitary confinement. It's only going to cause more harm than good."

"William, I can't keep her there forever," Figgins reasoned. "The write up stipulated two weeks, and that's all we can give her. Now, please remove her from solitary and place her back in her cell."

Schuester's jaw tensed with barely contained frustration. He pushed back from the table then walked out of the room without saying a word.

Sue laughed to herself as she watched him go. "Now that is one angry troll."

Rachel found herself unconsciously sinking into Finn's side as she absorbed the conversation. It made her uneasy that an inmate who did something bad enough to earn herself two weeks in solitary confinement was now getting out. And also—"Fabray?" was all she could muster in a weak voice as she turned to look at Finn.

He scratched the side of his cheek. "Quinn Fabray—got five years for arson, very conniving."

"Great," Rachel mumbled sardonically to herself. "Just great."


Schuester pulled roughly on the thick steel door separating the prisoner inside from the only civilization within her grasp. Inside, Terri was curled up on a bed on her side, facing the door. She looked up to find Schuester staring at her from across the room. Slowly, Terri sat up in bed and kicked her legs over the edge of the bed. "Hello, Will."

"Sullivan."

"So formal." She glanced over at the wall where had used her fingernails to keep tally marks of all the days she had spent there. Though the days tended to run together when one spent them in a box, and she had lost count after day eight. "Has it been two weeks already?"

Schuester merely nodded.

Terri then looked around the room, from gray wall to gray wall. "I thought I would lose my mind," she confessed in a matter of fact tone of voice.

Again, Schuester said nothing as he watched Terri from across the room. She sighed, and stood from the bed. "Shall we go?"

He walked further into the cramped six by eight by ten room and held out a pair of handcuffs. "Come on. Let's make this quick." His rough tone belied the gentle care he took in sliding the cuffs onto her wrists. He wrapped his hands around her arm and together they walked out of the room. "Are you going to behave yourself this time?"

A small smile flitted across her face as they walked down the hallway. "Of course."


"Word on the block is that Crazy Sullivan gets out today," Santana informed the room.

Brittany frowned as she played in Santana's hair.

Across the cell on a bed, a blonde woman eyed Santana on the floor between Brittany's legs. Her name was Quinn Fabray, and beside her was her bunkmate and longtime friend, The Mack, a feisty brunette who loved to make-out. "Who did you hear that from?" Quinn demanded.

Santana shot her a dry look. "Who do you think, Fabray? The neighborhood gossips."

"Jones and Cohen-Chang," she mumbled to herself.

Santana nodded. "What are we gonna do?"

Quinn thought for a moment. "We're going to lay low for a while."

"Fabray!" Santana objected.

"You wanna go in the hole?" Quinn rebuffed without missing a beat. "Because I don't. So excuse me if I want her to strike first before I retaliate to lessen my chances in solitarty."

Santana leaned back between Brittany's legs with a sly grin. "There's only one hole I wanna be in," she assured. "But this is a bitch move."

"It is," Quinn agreed. She smiled in amusement at Santana. "But better to play the waiting game than to piss on yourself in the hole."

"Britt, I can't believe you told!" Santana shouted as she stood from the floor.

Brittany tried to frown sympathetically but she couldn't control her laughter as both Mack and Quinn were doubled over on the other bed. "I'm sorry!" she cried.

"Screw you guys, man!" Santana retaliated, though there was amusement in her dark eyes. Brittany smiled in mirth, and wrapped her arms around Santana's waist, tugging her into her lap.

"Did you guys see the new girl?" she asked as she wrestled affections out of her grumpy bunkmate.

Feigning interest in the new conversation, Santana sunk into Brittany's side. "Oh, yeah, Tiny. Her name is Rachel Cherry or whatever."

"I think it was Berry," Brittany corrected with a giggle as Quinn's eyes darted from Santana to her.

"Whatever," Santana dismissed.

"She was pretty hot," Brittany continued.

Santana shrugged. "She'll never last."

Quinn glanced between the two as she absorbed their information. "Fresh meat," she concluded. "She sounds boring. But it'd be good to work her over a little, have her in our back pocket."

Santana pursed her lips. "I never thought about it that way. Want me or B to handle it?"

Quinn weighted her options. Santana had the subtlety of a bull, and Brittany was often too lenient. "I have a feeling you've already made your first impression stick, Lopez."

Santana grumbled under her breath and crossed her arms.

"Either way, I'll handle it. Don't worry about it."

Brittany grinned at the prospect of the new girl working for them.

Squinted hazel eyes trained on the intruder in her doorway. Quinn cleared her throat to get everyone else's attention.

The intruder, Mercedes, knocked on the wall outside the cell before she took a step inside.

"Jones," Quinn greeted.

Mercedes waved. "Hey, everybody."

Santana shifted in her seat to face her. "Got some news for us?"

Mercedes nodded, wringing her hands. "She's out, y'all."

Quinn licked her lips and cut her eyes to Santana.

Just then Tina came around the corner, breathing heavily. "S-Sullivan and-and-and her cr-cr-cr-crew—"

"Spit it out, Porky Pig!" Santana ordered impatiently.

"Sullivan and her crew are on their way over here!"

Quinn stood from the bed just as Terri and three other people walked into her cell. Their names were Kitty, Sheila, and Ronnie; and Mack, Brittany, and Santana all stood as well.

Terri smiled in challenge. "Wasp."

Quinn's lips curled back into a sneer at the insult. "Old Hag," she shot back.

Terri sucked her teeth in contempt. "Long time no see."

"It's only been two weeks."

Santana shuffled closer to Quinn when Kitty walked further into the room. She was a little thing that, Santana had learned over the years, packed a big punch.

Terri's face hardened instantly. "Two weeks that were supposed to be yours," she spat.

Brittany's eyes zeroed in on the way Ronnie's fists clenched at her side. She inhaled a deep, calming breath as she wondered if they would have to gear up for a fight.

"Ladies!"

Sheila, Ronnie, and Kitty scurried out of the room to stand at the doorway as Officer Puck rounded the corner. "Let's see. One, two, thr—whoops! Looks like we're already over the limit for how many people can occupy this cell. Move out, ladies!"

Santana uncrossed her arms and sauntered out of the room, shoulder checking Terri on the way out. Brittany followed behind her, followed by Mercedes and Tina.

"You guys were just having yourself a good old fashioned hoedown, weren't ya?" Puck asked as they wall filed out one by one.

Terri narrowed her eyes at Quinn. "This isn't over, Fabray" she hissed before walking out of the room.

Quinn glared at her back. "You're right about that," she mumbled to herself.


Santana placed an apple on her tray and glanced back at Quinn as she moved forward. "What did she mean, this isn't over?"

"I think that much is obvious," Quinn replied in a grave voice. She had been brood, doom, and gloom for the rest of the day since her initial encounter with Terri fresh out of solitary. Quinn had been there before. Solitary offered a lot of thinking time, a lot of time for one to plot revenge. It would only be smart from here on out for her to operate under the assumption that while in solitary, Terri had thought of a way to repay her for Quinn sending her there the first time.

Brittany spun around when she reached the end of the food tray line. "Maybe it won't be so bad."

She was optimistic by default, and it took all Quinn had not to spew out a putrid response that would inevitably hurt her feelings. "Don't worry about it, Pierce. I'll figure something out."

"We," Brittany corrected as she and Santana waited for Quinn to grab utensils.

Quinn turned to find Mack grabbing a last minute snack before picking up some utensils. Mack shot her a bland look. "Now you know I, of all people, will not let you go down like a sucker." She cracked a small, sobering smile. "Besides, you saved me, kid."

The corner of Quinn's mouth ticked upward in appreciation for her longtime friend, Mack, as well as her other two friends she had acquired while in lockup as they all exited the line and found a table. They sat at the same table they had been sitting at for three years; the very place Quinn had met Santana and Brittany when she and Mack had first arrived to serve their sentences. Santana and Brittany had already been there for two years, having attempted to rob a bank when they were eighteen.

My dad had gambled all his doctor money away, Quinn remembered Santana telling her. So I figured, why not rob? So Britt and I lifted some guns off the street with the little money I had left in my bank account and set out toward a Wells Fargo—then Wachovia still.

What happened then? Quinn could still remember how eager her voice sounded.

We had the money and were on our way out…when B's gun accidentally went off. The haunted look on Brittany's face when Santana finally got to that part of the story would be something Quinn would never forget. It, ah…lodged itself in a teller's lung, the bullet. And he died. Britt was walking toward him to help when I yanked her arm and told her to come on. It was a very high profile case, as you can imagine for such a small town like Lima. So when we heard on the news that the guy had died, Britt immediately wanted to turn herself in. I wasn't gonna let her go to prison alone, so I went with her down to the police station to turn myself in, too.

It was a same-sex Bonnie & Clyde love story that had ended the wrong way, but better than original one would reason: with Brittany and Santana both wearing navy jumpsuits and serving well over a decade's worth of time. But as Quinn stared across the table at her two friends feeding each other the day's mystery meat, she couldn't help but selfishly be grateful both for Brittany having a conscience, and for the fact that she had neglected to put the safety on that day.

Mack nudged Quinn's side as two shadows casted on the table. Quinn looked over to find Mercedes and Tina standing in front of the table with their trays. Her smile was triumphant. "Have a seat, ladies."

Mercedes went to take a seat when Terri, Sheila, Ronnie, and Kitty walked up.

Quinn sucked her teeth and spun around in her chair to get a better look at them. "Something you want?"

Terri ignored her. "Jones, Cohen-Chang. You two wouldn't be fraternizing with the enemy, would you?"

"They weren't before," Quinn responded as she stood up. "But they are now."

"Make no mistake, ladies, lines will be drawn so you choose to sit at this table right now." Terri stepped closer. "Now the two of you have been Switzerland up until this point." She cut her eyes to Quinn then back to Mercedes and Tina. "Don't choose, especially not the wrong side. Because I will end you with no hesitation if you do."

Mercedes cocked her hip out in challenge at the threat, but Tina grabbed her arm. She looked around then stepped closer to Mercedes. "Y-you're all I have in here," Tina whispered. She gave Mercedes' arm a tug. "Let's go. You only have a year and a half, remember?"

As if having just been awoken from a trance, Mercedes blinked and took a step back. She glanced between the two groups and shook her head. "Listen, like Double C said, I only have a year and a half in this place, and I'm gone. I don't have time for gang activity. I'm out, y'all." She left everyone to their own devices as she and Tina walked away to sit at another table.

Quinn slammed her hand down on the table and walked swiftly toward Terri. "I am so sick of you putting your nose into my business, Old Lady!"

"All right, ladies, that's enough!" an officer called.

"Then you do something about it, Wasp," Terri spat back. She looked directly into Quinn's eyes. "Jump stupid if you want, and I will crush you like the bug you are."

"Fabray! Sullivan! That's enough!"

Quinn glanced over Terri's shoulder to find Officer Schuester approaching her. Her nostrils flared as she glanced over her own shoulder to find Officer Hudson behind her. Her eyes shot up to his, then flicked down to the woman by his side.

Santana eyed Quinn's questioning gaze and turned to Rachel. "Hey, Berry!"

Quinn hummed quietly to herself in recognition. Her eyes scanned Rachel's body briefly as she acquainted herself. "Fresh meat," she mumbled to herself.

Uneasy, Rachel shuffled closer to Finn.

Santana smirked at the comment as Rachel turned to look at her. "Having fun yet?"

Rachel's jaw clenched. She smiled weakly. "It has certainly been an informative day, Santana."

"Lopez," she corrected.

Rachel nodded humbly.

"Do you need to go to the hole?" Finn asked.

Quinn scoffed at the bass he had put into his voice. "Calm down, Hudson. Quit trying to show off in front of the newbie."

Rachel watched the two of them closely as Finn stepped forward. The last thing she needed was for Finn to be hospitalized at the hands of this Fabray person.

Finn leaned down. "Hey, be cool, all right?" he whispered. "I don't need you busting my balls in front of Rachel."

"I am not going to the hole!" Quinn whispered harshly.

"Okay, okay, just be cool," he reiterated. He cleared his throat and stood back to his full height. "Everything all right on your end?" he directed at Officer Schuester.

Terri, Kitty, Sheila, and Ronnie were all walking away in a single file line. "Fine," Schuester replied gruffly.

Finn nodded. "Good." He glanced at Quinn then everyone else at the table. "Okay, everyone finish their meals quietly."

"What is this, preschool or prison?" Santana sassed back, prompting the whole table to laugh. "We don't play the silent game anymore."

Finn grimaced in embarrassment. "You know what I mean, Lopez."

He motioned for Rachel to follow him away from the table. Quinn spied the placement of his hand on her lower back with interest.

"You see, this is exactly why I suggested we take her out first," Santana insisted once they were alone again. "She's clearly feeling froggy, Fabray."

Quinn picked up her plastic fork and returned to her meal. "So she is," was all she said.

Mack noticed her friend's reticent demeanor immediately. "Who cares? Terri probably doesn't have anything planned anyway. She probably spent those two weeks getting even loonier than she already was. Bee-tee-dubs, anyone else pick up on her droopy cheeks lately? And for once I don't mean her ass."

Brittany snickered like a school girl at the remark.

"Sounds like Ol' Girl needs another injection of Botox," Santana agreed in amusement. "I guess fifty ain't the new thirty-six anymore!" she then yelled.

From across the cafeteria, Terri flicked her off without even glancing in her direction.

Quinn laughed.

As conversation returned to normal, a petite redhead placed her tray at the end of the table and sat down. Mack's eyes bulged out of her head and she nearly bruised a muscle from nudging Quinn's arm so hard.

"Ouch! Shit, Mack—what?"

Mack pointed down the table and Quinn, Brittany, and Santana all turned to look.

"Holy shit," Santana whispered.

"Baby, can we trade seats?" Brittany asked.

Quinn gawked as she stared down the table at the woman quietly, politely eating her breakfast. She occupied so little space to be as perplexing and occasionally intimidating as they all found her. No one really knew much about Ms. Emma Pillsbury except for the fact that she had OCD…and was in for murder.

"Uh, Pillsbury?" Santana finally hedged when no one else said a word.

As if just realizing they were all there, Emma turned to the group of four with a small smile. "Hello, everyone." She always had a pleasant enough demeanor, but if it was one thing prison had taught the four of them over the years, it was that no one was who they seemed.

Quinn eyed her warily. "Hi. You're with us now?"

"Mhm," she hummed with a nod then went right back to her food.

"Oh," Quinn murmured when it became obvious their presence was dismissed. She didn't know what to make of this newfound information, but reasoned one person was better than none. "Nice."

Brittany shook off a chill in the humid room. She cleared her throat and went back to her meal. Quinn made eye contact with Santana for a long moment then Mack before they all voicelessly agreed to finish their meals. In silence.


Rachel knocked on the tall wooden door before opening it to peek inside. Figgins was across the room, standing bent over his desk and staring hard at a stack of papers. "Officer Figgins, you wanted to see me?"

Figgins looked up from the stack and smiled. "Yes, Miss Rachel, please come in."

She smiled at the welcome and walked inside, closing the door behind her.

He gestured toward the seat in front of his desk before taking his own seat. "How was your day learning the ropes?"

Rachel cleared her throat, rubbing at the back of her neck as she searched for a suitable response. "It was…quite informative."

"Good." He nodded. "We typically give new employees the day to explore and learn routines. But now I want to discuss your job with you."

She perked up at the mention of her job, and picked up her briefcase from the floor. Opening it, Rachel fished out a stack of papers. "Yes, well, as you see I have an entire briefcase full of detailed lesson plans in place. I am more than ready for my class."

Figgins smiled indulgently. He placed his hands on his desk and steepled his fingers together. "Very well, Miss Berry. But you will be responsible for just one inmate."

Confusion knitted her eyebrows, and crestfallen, she leaned back in her chair "I don't understand. I thought I was hired to teach—a class."

"A class of one," Figgins reiterated. "We already have staff in the education department teaching whole classes, Miss Berry. Your position became available due to an inmate having her privileges of learning in a classroom of her peers revoked due to…inappropriate behavior."

Rachel fidgeted in her seat. "H-how inappropriate?"

"However," Figgins continued, ignoring her question, "she insists that she wants to keep her brain sharp while she's in here, and wants to continue her education."

It felt like her world had suddenly tilted on its axis, and the change in position made her queasy. Not only was she teaching prisoners, but she was teaching a prisoner who apparently did something bad enough to get kicked out of a prison classroom.

She licked her lips nervously. "Who, ah…who is this inmate I'll be teaching?"

Figgins smiled at her would be acquiescence. "Quinn Fabray."