Author's Notes: SLASH!! Tom/Ed. So shoot me. Sounds bad, but it really
could have been worse...they could have gone all the way...*cringe*...not even
I want that and I wrote this! But I have to say, in my defence, it had to
be done. Just watch them together! They were made for each other. I'm only
speaking what you're all thinking! (I hope!)
DISCLAIMER: Made it all up. Not one word of this is true. The characters do
not belong to me and I'm only doing this cos the little voices in my head
told me to. I'm not implying or stating anything about these men. Thanx
-BATMAN AND ROBIN-
"15 minute obs, please. Thank you very much."
Tom swept open Bay 3's door and stood in the bustling ward, barely taking another glance at the young nurse he had given orders to. He watched from across the floor as Ed Keating explained to a distraught wife that her husband's condition wasn't fatal after all.
Campbell-Gore shook his head in irony as he made his way to the staff room to take his break. So, Ed had changed the rotas. Things were certainly different now.
He flicked on the kettle and reached for a coffee-stained mug. As he rinsed it out he gazed out of the window, remembering Ed's words from theatre the week before.
Thanks a lot, Tom. 'Not even a call...'
And then today:
I'm not going to be a sidekick anymore."
Tom knew that Ed knew it wasn't just about a phone call. And it wasn't just about leaving an 'addict' without his support. It was further down than that, further back, in the past. If only it had stayed there...
~
They'd met at a Meeting. Tom; the sad drunk, crouching in the corner of the circle, trying to hide from the world. And Ed; young, bright, witty and desperately trying not to be one of the people he was surrounded by.
That was why Tom had noticed him. He was out of place amongst lonely drunks, tramps and beaten housewives. He was young and had a future. And he knew it. Ed didn't see the point in these talks, these sessions. He just wanted to be rid of it all and complete his course at med school.
Tom spoke to him, learnt about him, was interested by him. They found out that they had a lot in common and so decided that Tom would join Ed in his flat. They'd be 'buddies', help each other out.
And they did. They really did become a team then. Until one night in November.
-
Ed was channel-flicking nervously. It was eleven o'clock. Tom was no-where to be seen. Ed glanced at his watch again. He knew exactly where Tom was. And he knew exactly when the man would be back as well. In half an hour. When the landlord finally kicked him out. As he did every Friday night.
This 'buddy' idea wasn't going as planned. Each Friday Tom would visit the local pub and get drunk. He'd stay until he was told to leave, then he'd stumble home, stopping off at the garage along the way for a six-pack of something or other. Then, the next day, he'd plead with Ed to help him sober up. And Ed would. Because he cared. Tom was the only one who really understood him, the only person he felt he could talk to. They were a team. And besides, it was his job to help Tom. He kept Tom sober during the week and then, on Sundays, at the Meeting, he wouldn't speak about the times Tom got drunk. They were partners. They had to help each other out.
Ed flicked the TV off and shook his head. Now he was beginning to sound like the pathetic drunk. This had to stop. He looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece. Fifteen minutes to go.
Just then there was a pounding on the door. So, he was early. Ed pulled open the door and caught Tom as he fell through the doorway. He dragged the older man over to the sofa and dropped him there. He relieved Tom of his half-empty lager can and made his way to the kitchen where he poured the liquid down the plughole and then crushed the can in his hand. Tom was groaning from the living room. Ed strode in.
"Good night?" he asked sarcastically.
Tom opened his eyes. "I don't know," he smiled.
Thank God Tom was a happy drunk. Ed knelt by the sofa and grabbed Tom's shoulders.
"This has to stop, Tom," he said. "I'm not going to lie for you anymore. We'll get through it together, but I'm not going to lie."
Tom nodded drunkenly. Ed sighed and went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. When it was ready, he set it down on the side table in the living room and shook Tom to wake him up.
"Sit up," Ed instructed, "and drink that."
Tom heaved himself up into a sitting position and looked disbelievingly at the steaming mug. He lifted it up and took a few sips. Ed watched him, seeing his eyes clear. Then he started talking again.
"Do you understand? I'm not going to do this anymore."
Tom looked up and frowned. "Why?"
"Because it's not right. I'm supposed to help you stop drinking, not cover up when you do."
"But we're partners!"
"Yes, but –"
"We're in this together! We're meant to help each other!"
"And I will, but this –"
"I'd do anything for you, Ed," Tom said. His tone had changed. "Anything at all. I'd pretend for you, I'd look after you." His sharp blue eyes looked into Ed's. The younger man could see that Tom wasn't completely drunk. He knew what he was doing. So did Ed. And he didn't like it.
"Look, Tom," he started, trying to tear his eyes away, "I want to help you, but I can't if-"
Ed was cut off as Tom's lips collided with his. Ed could taste the many drinks the man had downed that night. He could feel Tom's hands at his back.
Ed pushed the man away with the palms of his hands. He stood up.
"This...isn't working," he stuttered. "We can't go on like this. You can stay tonight, but after that...tomorrow morning, I want you to go."
As he slammed the door to his bedroom, Ed closed his eyes. He'd said what he really meant, he hadn't sugar-coated it for Tom's alcohol-soaked brain. He knew he didn't have to...Tom knew exactly what he'd been doing.
~
Campbell-Gore sipped his coffee. Yes, he knew what he'd been doing. And he'd been thinking about it a lot. He still didn't regret it. Not even now.
The staff room was too light. Tom got up and closed the blinds. The darkness helped him to find his thoughts.
So, that was the end. After that night, Tom decided not to drink anymore. And Ed decided that they shouldn't live together anymore. Tom moved out, found his own place. It went well, he managed to stop drinking. He almost managed to forget Ed. But not quite.
It was quite a surprise when he found out about his new registrar.
"A Mr Ed Keating will be going to Holby Hospital with you. I hope you'll manage to work as a team."
A team! Well, providing that Ed had forgotten about the drunken kiss; all would be fine. And for a while, it seemed that everything was be fine. Except Tom just couldn't get that night out of his mind.
~
The bar was smoky and dark, filled with the rumbling noise of people. Tom breathed deeply, smoke and the sharp tang of alcohol filling his mouth and creeping down his throat. It tasted bitter. It tasted like home.
Tom strode up to the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey. He swallowed it in one, amber liquid burning his throat in that comfortable, hot way. He closed his eyes. God, he'd missed. So he ordered another. And another. It was good to be back.
Two hours later, after someone pushed him into a cab, Tom realized what it was that he'd done. He began to sob silently in the back of the car, alcohol-flavoured tears running into his gasping mouth. Now he'd started, he knew that he couldn't stop. He needed another drink. The thought only made him cry harder.
-
Sipping the hot, bitter liquid in his mug, Tom closed his eyes. The darkened staff room was bringing back all the memories that he didn't want. At least this memory had a happy ending. At least Ed finding out meant that they could become close again. Just not close enough.
He'd tried, so hard he'd tried. But Ed wasn't having any of it. So Tom persisted, asking and asking to the point of begging. But it didn't work. Ed began to get forceful so Tom kept drinking. Until he got caught. Until the day he broke down, sobbing and gasping, scared that he'd be an alcoholic forever. Then he got Ed's attention. Then things almost changed the way he wanted them to. So close...
"Tom, I can't. I can't. It's not that I don't care...but this would only make things more difficult-for both of us."
True to his word, Ed had helped him again, helped him to get sober. But that was all. No matter what Ed had told him, their friendship wouldn't go any further.
So then there was Diane. She was a nice girl, but she just wasn't who Tom wanted her to be. He wasn't attracted to her.
Next was Anita, who he did find attractive. Beautiful, even. Dear, sweet, innocent Anita who hadn't deserved what he'd done to her. Poor Anita who noticed that Tom's heart just wasn't in it. She finally put two and two together and realized what those longing stares across the Atlantic really meant. Anita had sent him packing with his tail between his legs. Running back to Holby. Crawling, rather. Crawling back to the hospital. Crawling back to Ed.
But now Ed really didn't want him. He didn't even want to work with him.
Tom stood up and rinsed his mug. Then he opened the blinds. As he reached into his pocket, the sunlight shone and reflected off the silver flask. He unscrewed the lid and let the sharp scent hit his nostrils. He tipped his head back and took a deep drink.
Ed didn't want to work with him. Soon see about that.
-BATMAN AND ROBIN-
"15 minute obs, please. Thank you very much."
Tom swept open Bay 3's door and stood in the bustling ward, barely taking another glance at the young nurse he had given orders to. He watched from across the floor as Ed Keating explained to a distraught wife that her husband's condition wasn't fatal after all.
Campbell-Gore shook his head in irony as he made his way to the staff room to take his break. So, Ed had changed the rotas. Things were certainly different now.
He flicked on the kettle and reached for a coffee-stained mug. As he rinsed it out he gazed out of the window, remembering Ed's words from theatre the week before.
Thanks a lot, Tom. 'Not even a call...'
And then today:
I'm not going to be a sidekick anymore."
Tom knew that Ed knew it wasn't just about a phone call. And it wasn't just about leaving an 'addict' without his support. It was further down than that, further back, in the past. If only it had stayed there...
~
They'd met at a Meeting. Tom; the sad drunk, crouching in the corner of the circle, trying to hide from the world. And Ed; young, bright, witty and desperately trying not to be one of the people he was surrounded by.
That was why Tom had noticed him. He was out of place amongst lonely drunks, tramps and beaten housewives. He was young and had a future. And he knew it. Ed didn't see the point in these talks, these sessions. He just wanted to be rid of it all and complete his course at med school.
Tom spoke to him, learnt about him, was interested by him. They found out that they had a lot in common and so decided that Tom would join Ed in his flat. They'd be 'buddies', help each other out.
And they did. They really did become a team then. Until one night in November.
-
Ed was channel-flicking nervously. It was eleven o'clock. Tom was no-where to be seen. Ed glanced at his watch again. He knew exactly where Tom was. And he knew exactly when the man would be back as well. In half an hour. When the landlord finally kicked him out. As he did every Friday night.
This 'buddy' idea wasn't going as planned. Each Friday Tom would visit the local pub and get drunk. He'd stay until he was told to leave, then he'd stumble home, stopping off at the garage along the way for a six-pack of something or other. Then, the next day, he'd plead with Ed to help him sober up. And Ed would. Because he cared. Tom was the only one who really understood him, the only person he felt he could talk to. They were a team. And besides, it was his job to help Tom. He kept Tom sober during the week and then, on Sundays, at the Meeting, he wouldn't speak about the times Tom got drunk. They were partners. They had to help each other out.
Ed flicked the TV off and shook his head. Now he was beginning to sound like the pathetic drunk. This had to stop. He looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece. Fifteen minutes to go.
Just then there was a pounding on the door. So, he was early. Ed pulled open the door and caught Tom as he fell through the doorway. He dragged the older man over to the sofa and dropped him there. He relieved Tom of his half-empty lager can and made his way to the kitchen where he poured the liquid down the plughole and then crushed the can in his hand. Tom was groaning from the living room. Ed strode in.
"Good night?" he asked sarcastically.
Tom opened his eyes. "I don't know," he smiled.
Thank God Tom was a happy drunk. Ed knelt by the sofa and grabbed Tom's shoulders.
"This has to stop, Tom," he said. "I'm not going to lie for you anymore. We'll get through it together, but I'm not going to lie."
Tom nodded drunkenly. Ed sighed and went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. When it was ready, he set it down on the side table in the living room and shook Tom to wake him up.
"Sit up," Ed instructed, "and drink that."
Tom heaved himself up into a sitting position and looked disbelievingly at the steaming mug. He lifted it up and took a few sips. Ed watched him, seeing his eyes clear. Then he started talking again.
"Do you understand? I'm not going to do this anymore."
Tom looked up and frowned. "Why?"
"Because it's not right. I'm supposed to help you stop drinking, not cover up when you do."
"But we're partners!"
"Yes, but –"
"We're in this together! We're meant to help each other!"
"And I will, but this –"
"I'd do anything for you, Ed," Tom said. His tone had changed. "Anything at all. I'd pretend for you, I'd look after you." His sharp blue eyes looked into Ed's. The younger man could see that Tom wasn't completely drunk. He knew what he was doing. So did Ed. And he didn't like it.
"Look, Tom," he started, trying to tear his eyes away, "I want to help you, but I can't if-"
Ed was cut off as Tom's lips collided with his. Ed could taste the many drinks the man had downed that night. He could feel Tom's hands at his back.
Ed pushed the man away with the palms of his hands. He stood up.
"This...isn't working," he stuttered. "We can't go on like this. You can stay tonight, but after that...tomorrow morning, I want you to go."
As he slammed the door to his bedroom, Ed closed his eyes. He'd said what he really meant, he hadn't sugar-coated it for Tom's alcohol-soaked brain. He knew he didn't have to...Tom knew exactly what he'd been doing.
~
Campbell-Gore sipped his coffee. Yes, he knew what he'd been doing. And he'd been thinking about it a lot. He still didn't regret it. Not even now.
The staff room was too light. Tom got up and closed the blinds. The darkness helped him to find his thoughts.
So, that was the end. After that night, Tom decided not to drink anymore. And Ed decided that they shouldn't live together anymore. Tom moved out, found his own place. It went well, he managed to stop drinking. He almost managed to forget Ed. But not quite.
It was quite a surprise when he found out about his new registrar.
"A Mr Ed Keating will be going to Holby Hospital with you. I hope you'll manage to work as a team."
A team! Well, providing that Ed had forgotten about the drunken kiss; all would be fine. And for a while, it seemed that everything was be fine. Except Tom just couldn't get that night out of his mind.
~
The bar was smoky and dark, filled with the rumbling noise of people. Tom breathed deeply, smoke and the sharp tang of alcohol filling his mouth and creeping down his throat. It tasted bitter. It tasted like home.
Tom strode up to the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey. He swallowed it in one, amber liquid burning his throat in that comfortable, hot way. He closed his eyes. God, he'd missed. So he ordered another. And another. It was good to be back.
Two hours later, after someone pushed him into a cab, Tom realized what it was that he'd done. He began to sob silently in the back of the car, alcohol-flavoured tears running into his gasping mouth. Now he'd started, he knew that he couldn't stop. He needed another drink. The thought only made him cry harder.
-
Sipping the hot, bitter liquid in his mug, Tom closed his eyes. The darkened staff room was bringing back all the memories that he didn't want. At least this memory had a happy ending. At least Ed finding out meant that they could become close again. Just not close enough.
He'd tried, so hard he'd tried. But Ed wasn't having any of it. So Tom persisted, asking and asking to the point of begging. But it didn't work. Ed began to get forceful so Tom kept drinking. Until he got caught. Until the day he broke down, sobbing and gasping, scared that he'd be an alcoholic forever. Then he got Ed's attention. Then things almost changed the way he wanted them to. So close...
"Tom, I can't. I can't. It's not that I don't care...but this would only make things more difficult-for both of us."
True to his word, Ed had helped him again, helped him to get sober. But that was all. No matter what Ed had told him, their friendship wouldn't go any further.
So then there was Diane. She was a nice girl, but she just wasn't who Tom wanted her to be. He wasn't attracted to her.
Next was Anita, who he did find attractive. Beautiful, even. Dear, sweet, innocent Anita who hadn't deserved what he'd done to her. Poor Anita who noticed that Tom's heart just wasn't in it. She finally put two and two together and realized what those longing stares across the Atlantic really meant. Anita had sent him packing with his tail between his legs. Running back to Holby. Crawling, rather. Crawling back to the hospital. Crawling back to Ed.
But now Ed really didn't want him. He didn't even want to work with him.
Tom stood up and rinsed his mug. Then he opened the blinds. As he reached into his pocket, the sunlight shone and reflected off the silver flask. He unscrewed the lid and let the sharp scent hit his nostrils. He tipped his head back and took a deep drink.
Ed didn't want to work with him. Soon see about that.