A dull but constant ache controlled his body, making it impossible for him to move - his speech taken from him as a result of the gushing slice on the inside of his cheek and the throbbing of his gum where they'd cut out his gold tooth. Blood-soaked clothes clung to his body with such vigour he was no longer sure if he was still bleeding or if all he could feel now was the drenched fabric clotting the wounds. Sight could only be gained through one eye and it was blurry at best, allowing for only the ability to pinpoint basic shaps and colours. Some of these shapes and colours were much more frequent than others but the most common was the white of the doctors' robes and the various shades of nurses' hair as they rushed around him, trying anything to stop the bleeding and get him cleaned up. The thought almost made him want to laugh: Thomas Shelby would never be clean, no matter how hard they scrubbed him.

Loud, urgent voices clouded his senses whilst cold hands grasped at his body, grabbing and pulling this way and that, moving him from stretcher to bed, to table, to bed, and again, and again - at least that's what it felt like. All Tommy could feel was his body being moved around, his own physical capabilities rebelling against him no matter how hard he willed himself to fight these people clawing at every inch of his injured body. Not that it made any difference. It didn't hurt anymore; he could no longer feel himself, no longer feel his own body, only the forceful hands of others as they tried to help him fight for his life.

"Mr. Shelby?"

Suddenly, those loud and urgent voices were forced into submission, growing so quiet he could barely hear them anymore, although he somehow knew they were still just as loud and urgent as before. Instead, a new voice demanded what little attention he was able to give.

"Mr. Shelby, can you hear me?" the voice asked.

Tommy fought hard to find the source of this voice. Forcing himself to keep his eyes open as best he could, to turn his head in search of her, to let out the quietest but most definitive grunt he possibly could. Anything to let her know he was still hiding somewhere within his broken body.

"That's very good Mr. Shelby." she praised, and he felt inexplicably proud. "I'm going to strip these clothes so we can get a better look at your injuries, Mr. Shelby, if that's alright?"

Although this was phrased as a question, he knew very well that it was not a question at all. Before he could give any kind of indication as to his consent, he felt her hands moving across his chest and down his torso, ripping the fabric of his shirt wide open and he could hear the buttons pop and the soft tinkle of them falling to the floor around him. That sweet voice was still there to be heard but she was no longer talking to him and so he wasn't listening anymore. She'd address him as 'Mr. Shelby' when she wants his attention, he assumed. Instead, he stopped willing himself to fight, choosing to enjoy the feeling of her hands dancing across his skin as she wipes away the blood and tends to his injuries, letting himself drift in and out of consciousness as she does so.


Silence had long since settled over the hospital as the darkness of night set in. Very few could afford to pay for hospital care and so, very few wards held more than one or two patients at time. This was, of course, good for the hospital as it allowed for only one member of staff to be necessary to keep each ward safe and running throughout the night. Normally, this was not an issue of any kind as, after the war, most patients were veterans who had sustained life long injuries that merely needed repeated treatment and as such, there was no danger in working in the hospital. Yet, in one night, everything had changed. Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders, currently lay in one of those hospital beds with so many broken bones, so many cuts and bruises, that it was hard to believe he was still breathing. Tommy Shelby - one of, if not the, most dangerous man in Birmingham - was currently unconscious in Elsie's ward and she was the only nurse on duty, the only thing standing between the notorious crime boss and a bullet should someone choose to finish what they'd started.

It was a little after 3:00am and so far, he had been unconscious for a total of twenty-eight hours. As the only nurse who would be staying the night in that particular ward, Elsie had been tasked with single-handedly ensuring this man did not die by any manner of means. If she were being honest, she had expected him to have woken up by the time she'd started her shift and so was rather disappointed to find him lying in bed exactly as she'd left him the night before. Naturally, this suggested that it was going to be a very long, boring night of protecting Mr. Shelby. And so, to pass the time, she had decided to read his hospital file. There wasn't much to read: basic statistics such as his height, weight and physical characteristics; brief descriptions of the injuries he'd sustained in the war; and her own report on his injuries sustained the night prior. In fact, his file was rather boring.

A sudden loud gasp and the sound of rustling sheets drew Elsie out of her boredom and immediately had her on alert. With only one patient on the ward, she didn't have to be a genius to recognise that something was wrong with Thomas. Immediately fearing the worst, she dropped the file in her hands and ran for his room, throwing the door open with no real expectations as to what she might find there. Yet, she was still surprised to find the room empty save for the patient himself, thrashing wildly in the sheets. Even in the dark she could see the sweat glistening on his skin as he fought with himself. In the silence she could hear him mumbling, panting heavily and gasping for breath. It almost seemed as though he were having a nightmare. With a soft sigh, she moved towards him carefully, sitting on the edge of the bed. For a moment or two, she simply observed his furrowed brow and parted lips, trying to imagine what he could possibly be seeing and wondering why his own mind would torture him so.

"Mr. Shelby?" she asked, reaching out to place her hand on his left shoulder, shaking softly so as not to hurt him but enough that she hoped it would not go unnoticed, but his thrashing only continued.

"You need to wake up Mr. Shelby." she spoke, shaking a little harder.

"Mr. Shelby, you're dreaming, you need to wake up." she continued when he remained unresponsive.

Taking hold of both of his shoulders and repositioning herself to kneel on the bed beside him, Elsie shook him hard and shouted his name. The reaction she received was not one she was expecting. In a flash, he held her right wrist in his hand with a grip tight enough to break the bone, with his free hand tight around her throat, and all she could do was grasp at his wrist with her own free hand. Thomas sat perfectly straight, his face mere centimetres from her own with his eyes wide and his breath both heavy and uneven. Despite her vision beginning to blur, she could see as clear as day the fear that ruled his features, his eyes frantic and wild. It took her a moment but she eventually realised that he had no idea where he was. With as much strength as she could muster, Elsie managed to force a high pitched squeak from her throat, causing his eyes to snap to hers. For only a few moments more he simply stared at her before releasing her completely, letting her collapse across his legs, coughing and gasping to regain her own breath.

Neither of them moved for at least five minutes, both trying to catch their breath and compose themselves. It was she who moved first, placing her hands flat on the bed on the opposite side of his legs to where her knees rested, pushing herself upwards in an attempt to move into a seated position once more. As she did so, he placed a hand on her ribs, the other taking hold of her upper arm in order to help her. Only when she was fully upright did she allow herself to raise her watery eyes to meet his, finding that he was already staring at her. Still, he said nothing. However, much to her surprise, he reached up behind her and, keeping his eyes locked on hers, tugged rather firmly on the white nurse's hat she had pinned into her hair. It came loose, of course, and he dropped it to the floor. Elsie attempted to look down to where it had landed but he placed a finger under her chin, forcing her to keep her eyes on his. Reaching up behind her again, Thomas began to remove the pins from her hair, letting the long, dark waves fall across her face and shoulders, letting it tumble down her back. Without thinking, she shook her head so that her hair might fall a little more naturally and for a moment, in the dark light of the room, she thought she saw him smile. Gripping her loose hair in one hand, he tugged, forcing her to tilt her head and expose her neck to him, and a shiver raced down her spine as he trailed his fingers across what she imagined was an already forming bruise.

"You'll need to wear a neck scarf for the next few days." he stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

By God, his voice was beautiful. Deep and rough, the kind of voice she could never have imagined sounding so good yet, exactly the kind of voice she'd imagined a man like Thomas Shelby might possess. And without knowing why, she nodded at him, agreeing with him.

"I will, Mr. Shelby."

This time, he definitely smiled, although it lasted only a few seconds. And then he released her. Immediately, Elsie got to her feet and stepped away from the bed, bending down to collect the hat he'd removed and clasping it close to her chest. When she turned her eyes back to him, he was lying down again.

"Can I have some water, please?" he asked, but she knew he wasn't really asking.

"Y-yes, Mr. Shelby." she muttered before practically running out of the room to safety, to somewhere far away from the danger that was Tommy Shelby.


Two days had passed since he'd almost killed that nurse. Since then, she seemed to have been avoiding him, although he did note that she had, in fact, worn a neck scarf like he'd told her to. Regardless, there was a large, rather dark bruise around her wrist that apparently neither of them had noticed until it was pointed out by one of the other nurse's. After that, she wore long sleeved cardigans whenever he saw her. It normally made no difference to Tommy if a woman chose to avoid him, as they usually had a good reason to do so. Of course, this nurse had a good reason to avoid him - a very good reason, in fact. Still, he wanted to talk to her. Over the course of the two days she'd been avoiding him, he had told himself that he needed to talk to her to ensure she knew to keep her mouth shut about what happened but deep down, he knew, the truth was that he really just wanted to know her name, and he wanted to hear it from her. That was why he'd caused such a fuss when some blonde nurse appeared with a bowl of warm water and a cloth, ready to clean and redress his wounds. And by God, a fuss he did cause - shouting and swearing, demanding to see the nurse with the dark hair, describing her only as the nurse who'd saved his life. Therefore, when she appeared with a fresh bowl of water and a cloth, a look of extreme annoyance on her face, he could only smile smugly. Patiently, he waited until she had settled herself on the edge of the bed beside him before speaking.

"Good morning, nurse."

In an instant, her eyes were on his, her brow narrowed angrily, and her lips pursed into a disapproving pout. Whilst she fixed him with this look, he took a moment to look her over. Seeing as it was dark the first time they'd met, and she had been avoiding him ever since, he hadn't had a chance to really get a good look at her. And he wasn't disappointed: her hair was dark, almost as black as coal, and was once again pinned away neatly behind that stupid little white hat; her eyes were a dull grey, like the Birmingham sky in winter when it rains; her skin was white like snow and almost completely unblemished with her only flaw being two small scars - one on her left cheekbone, directly beneath her eye, and the other on her temple on the same side. On the whole, she was quite stunning.

"You've been avoiding me." he added, upon realising she had yet to speak.

"You seem surprised." she responded flatly, dipping her cloth into the bowl and wringing it out slowly.

"Well, I can see wh- "

"Keep your mouth shut please, Mr. Shelby." she interrupted.

His eyes widened slightly as he stared at her in genuine surprise. For a moment, he assumed she was simply being rude. Not that he could blame her, of course, given that he had almost choked the life out of her. It wasn't until she pressed the cloth to the cut spread across his lips that he realised rudeness had not been her intention. Still, he was a little offended. It stung when she pressed the cloth to his skin and he hissed involuntarily, sulking a little upon noticing the way she smiled at his reaction.

"I know it hurts but it'll get infected if we don't clean it. "

Tommy merely scoffed sarcastically before closing his eyes and letting her proceed with cleaning the wounds on his face. There weren't many but from what few there were, a few scars would be left behind. It took her almost fifteen minutes, from what he counted, to satisfactorily cleanse the wounds on his face. Only when he heard her calling for another nurse did he open his eyes, finding her now sitting with her back to him. Another nurse, the blonde girl from before, entered the room nervously.

"Can you bring me a bowl of fresh water please, Alice?" she asked, holding out the bowl she had previously been using. The blonde girl nodded softly, moving only to take the bowl before spinning and leaving the room.

"Are you going to avoid me forever?" Tommy asked, forcing his nurse to turn back to him.

"I'm not avoiding you, Mr. Shelby. It just so happens that I've recently discovered I'm not particularly fond of being strangled half to death." came her response, although she still refused to meet his eyes.

"I see," he paused. "I don't suppose I ever apologised for that?" he asked rhetorically.

"No, you did not." she answered anyway.

"Well, if I'm going to apologise properly, you're going to have to tell me your name."

Upon his request, she finally raised her eyes to meet his and he saw confusion in them. It was clear that she had not expected him to apologise. Perhaps she thought him to be a typically dimwitted gangster used to getting whatever he wants whenever he wants it. Although she may not be entirely wrong, he would be offended if that was what she thought of him. There was more to him than his business, he just didn't often let others see that.

"Elsie." she revealed finally.

"Well, Elsie," he nodded as he spoke her name, keeping his eyes on hers. "I would like to apologse for what happened the other night. I- "

Before he could continue, the door swung open, catching the attention of both Elsie and himself. Quickly, the blonde nurse made her way across the room to hand over the bowl of fresh water and a new cloth, exiting just as quickly, closing the door behind her again.

"Can you sit up on your own?" came her voice, catching his attention.

Truthfully, no he couldn't sit up on his own but there was not a chance he was about to admit that. And so, instead, Tommy placed his hands flat on the bed at either side of himself and attempted to push himself upwards but his strength had abandoned him and he could feel himself struggling. Without a word, he suddenly felt her hands on him, one gripping his bicep and the other resting low between his shoulder blades, helping him to help himself. A little ashamed, he said nothing, and simply nodded at her once he was steady in his seated position. Instead, he watched as she dipped the new cloth into the fresh water, once again wringing it out.

"Is it the war?" she asked quietly, and he felt himself freeze.

"What?" he asked in return.

"The nightmares." she clarified. "Are they about the war? Is that why they scare you so?"

Silence descended upon them and he simply stared at her look of concentration as she began to dab at a cut on his left shoulder. What the fuck was he supposed to say? For one, he was almost happy that she assumed he had nightmares about the war and not about any other unfortunate events he may have witnessed in his line of work. Tommy wouldn't lie to himself, he knew that she knew who he was. Everyone in Birmingham knew who he was, he'd have been more annoyed if she hadn't known. However, he didn't like talking about the war or the visions that had hauntd him since.

"I'm sorry," she spoke, interrupting his thoughts. "That was rather a rude question, you don't have to answer."

On the last word there, her eyes flicked up to his, resting only half a second before she looked away again, moving across his back to a cut on his ribs. For a moment more, he considered what she had asked him. It was obvious that he had been a soldier in the war, what with the many scars marking his body, not to mention she'd probably read the report of his injuries he'd been forced to give upon his return from France.

"Yes, they're about the war." he answered finally, with a heavy sigh.

Deciding to say no more about his experiences, he waited until she gave a solemn nod before turning his eyes away from her to instead focus on the outside world visible from the window. They remained silent whilst she washed all across his back, replacing any bandages that needed replacing. When she was done, she called for Alice again to get more clean water and another cloth. The little blonde girl disappeared once more and in the meantime, Elsie helped him to lie down comfortably again.

"Are you married, Elsie?" he asked suddenly.

"No." she answered after a long moment of silence and he realised he'd hit a nerve. "I uhm- I was engaged to be married," another pause. "before the war. He was shot and killed two months in."

Once more, silence fell over them and once more, she refused to look at him. In that moment, his heart broke a little for her. During his time in France, he'd seen many men die but he'd never given much thought to the women at home expecting these men to come back. Tommy could see the shimmer in her eyes and he reached up in time to catch the small tear that fell and immediately, as if to rid herself of the hurt, she shook her head and swiped at her eyes, taking a deep breath and then smiling at him. Before he could say anything else, Alice returned with more water and a new cloth, leaving immediately after setting them by the bedside.

"Are you married, Mr. Shelby?" she asked in return.

"No, and I doubt I ever will be." he answered with as much certainty as he could possibly convey.

At his response, she laughed, and he didn't miss the way she rolled her eyes. Again, she soaked the cloth before wringing it out but this time, when she pressed it to a particularly nasty cut on his ribs, he swore loudly and she jumped back from him a little. Immediately, she began to apologise, holding her hands out without touching him, as though she were afraid to touch him.

"It's fine." he tried to interrupt but her rambling continued. "Elsie, it's fine. Just- just talk to me? Tell me about where you're from, distract me." he commanded.

"Okay." she whispered, nodding, dipping the cloth back in the bowl. "Okay, uhm, I'm assuming you guessed I'm not English." she began and he averted his eyes as she wrang out the cloth.

"Well that was obvious." he responded, hissing again as she pressed the cloth to the cut, feeling her wince as he did so. "So where are you from?" he asked.

"I'm from Ayr. It's a little town about 70 miles from Glasgow. It's quiet there, not quite as industrialised as Birmingham but- "

"Is that why you moved down here?" he interrupted.

"Oh, eh, no. I moved after the war. I needed a change, I needed to get away from everything up there. I saved up as much as I could and I made it this far." she explained.

"Why'd you stop?" he asked.

"I ran out of money." she laughed. "I'd worked as a nurse in the local hospital back home and so I settled down here, got myself a job and- well, it turns out I actually quite like the place. And I'm done."

Tommy couldn't help but grunt appreciatively as she pulled the cloth away from his skin, allowing the cold air to soothe the burning sensation left behind. After a moment or two, he turned his eyes back towards her but upon noticing she had her back turned to him, he turned his eyes down to the open wound on his ribs. They were definitely broken. When she turned back to him, he was instructed to lift his arm above his head to allow her to redress the wound. This took approximately ten minutes and they were both silent the entire time. Only when she was completely finished did he speak.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome Mr. Shelby." she replied, gathering her bowl and cloth before standing from the bed.

"Elsie," he called just before she reached the door, causing her to turn back to face him. "Stop calling me Mr. Shelby."

"Alright," a pause. "Tommy." she smiled, ducking her head as she turned and left the room.


Had she known that night he had almost killed her that she would come to feel so protective of him, Elsie would never have agreed to take Thomas Shelby on her ward. It was inexplicable, she'd known him only four days yet she found herself thinking about him constantly, worrying about him. It wasn't that she was attracted to him, she had decided. Yes, he was remarkably handsome but there was something else, something she couldn't quite put her finger on and it drew her to him like a magnet. Therefore, when Inspector Campbell arrived at the hospital asking to speak to Mr. Shelby, she had felt dread settle in her stomach. It was as she had feared that first night he'd arrived - someone wanted him dead. Of course, she assumed that, considering his line of work, many people wanted him dead but this was the first time she'd witnessed anyone come close to achieving that goal and truthfully, it scared her. If someone was capable of eradicating Tommy Shelby and his hold on Birmingham, she couldn't even begin to imagine what that would mean for the rest of them. And knowing that she was the only thing standing between a crime boss and a bullet scared her even more. That was why, during her night shifts at the hospital with him, Elsie had taken to keeping a gun on the ward with her. Although she did not keep it on her person, she made sure to keep it accessible at all times, just in case. All through the night, she would reach into the shelf below her desk and just lightly brush her fingers against the cold metal in order to remind herself that it was there if she needed it. Although, she had never imagined she would need it as nights at the hospital were generally quiet and boring. That night however, had been very strange. Every sound, every cough and rustle of bedsheets was amplified in the silence of the corridors and she found her paranoia was beginning to get the better of her. It wasn't until she heard the slow, methodical footsteps moving down the corridor, drawing closer to her and closer to Tommy, that she really began to panic.

As quietly as she could possibly manage, Elsie took hold of the gun and moved to her feet. Stepping out from behind the desk, she moved herself into a position that she knew would shield her from the eyes of anyone walking down the corridor. As the footsteps drew closer, she took as deep a breath as she could possibly manage before stepping out, the barrel of the gun colliding with the dark figure towering above her. Immediately, the figure raised its hands in surrender, coming to a complete halt. Several seconds passed by before it spoke.

"Why do you have a gun, Elsie?" asked his voice.

"Tommy?!" she exclaimed, dropping the gun by her side, pushing his chest with her free hand. "Are you insane, I almost shot you!" she raged.

A soft chuckle sounded in the dark and he stepped forward into the light, allowing her to see him more clearly. His eyes were glistening and his lips were upturned in what appeared to be a genuine smile that only made her hate him more in that moment. What about this was so funny to him? Did he have any idea what could have happened? And why was he out of bed in the first place? A million questions raced through her mind until he broke the silence.

"You had no intention of pulling that trigger." he remarked, sounding almost smug.

"Oh no?" she retorted. "And what makes you say that?"

Tenderly, she felt his fingers lace around her wrist, the one he'd already bruised. It was obvious he was trying to be careful when he touched her but the bruise still hurt and she couldn't help but wince a little at the contact. Slowly, he raised her arm so that the gun was positioned between the two of them but still, he did not let her go.

"For one, the safety is still on." he replied, and she watched as he flicked it off. "And two, if you were really going to shoot, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Narrowing her eyes at him, she remained silent. Tommy Shelby was cocky bastard, she had come to realise. Her eyes scrutinised his face as he stared at her and she couldn't help but feel her anger melt a little. It was the eyes, those crystal blue eyes that were so light that even in the dark she could see her reflection perfectly clear. There was a little scar on his cheek that she hadn't noticed before, one similar to her own and she found herself wondering how he had acquired it. Carefully glancing upwards, she took note of his unruly dark hair, odd little wisps hanging just over his eyebrows. By God, he was gorgeous and only now was she realising that attraction might in fact have something to do with the protectiveness she felt towards him after all.

"Do you know how to shoot?" he asked, interrupting her appreciation of him.

"Yes." she replied.

"Have you ever fired a gun?" he asked.

"Yes." she replied.

"Have you ever fired a gun at a person?" he asked.

"No." she replied.

Upon her last answer, he tugged on her wrist and Elsie found herself moving as he lead her, letting him turn her so that her back was pressed to his chest, one arm holding her waist whilst the other helped her to raise the gun to aim at nothing. Without realising it, her breath caught in her throat at his touch, his warmth spreading through her even through the thick fabric of her uniform. He lowered his chin to rest on her shoulder and a shiver shook her whole body as his breath blew softly across her cheek. They stayed like that for a few moments more before he spoke.

"If you're going to shoot someone, Elsie, you shoot to kill." he instructed, and she nodded lightly.

"When you pull that trigger," he squeezed his finger over her's lightly, enough that she could feel the trigger give way but light enough to stop the gun from firing, "you need to be ready for the kickback as the gun releases the bullet," and this time he tugged her arm back towards her body, creating a strange, aching jolt in her shoulder that she had not been prepared for, "or else you'll hurt yourself. Do you understand?"

Tommy's voice was strangely soothing in her ear, washing over her with a sense of calm control that she imagined he expressed in all aspects of his life. Still, she could feel the gentle rhythm of his heart beating against her back and she marvelled at how relaxed he was in comparison to how uneasy she felt. Was it normal to feel so uneasy with a gun in hand? Perhaps it was easy for him because this was how he chose to live his life. Although she would never say such a thing out loud. Regardless, with his hand on her waist and his body enveloping her's so perfectly, Elsie couldn't help but think that the gun may not be the only reason for her feelings of awkwardness.

"Yes." she reponded.

At that, he stepped away from her and she almost instantly regretted her answer. Cold air attacked her as he moved to stand before her, releasing her almost entirely from his grasp. Only his fingers remained wrapped gently yet firmly around her wrist, his eyes locking on her's once he stood directly in front of her.

"If you're going to shoot someone, Elsie, you shoot to kill." he repeated and she allowed him to raise her arm so that the barrel of the gun rested ever so lightly against his forehead. "You shoot, no questions asked. Can you do that?"

Without a word, she simply nodded, unsure her voice could remain steady enough for a solid answer. And then, in an instant, he released her completely and took a step back from her. Even in the dark, she could see the shine of his cuts and bruises, and the way his whole body struggled to move as he wanted it to. He was hurting.

"You should be in bed, Tommy, resting." she announcd, clearing her throat as though it would somehow also clear the strange new tension between the two of them.

"Well, Elsie, put the gun down and you can walk me back to me room." he retorted, a brief smile flashing across his face, and with a smile and a nod, she helplessly did as he asked.


Not another day, not one more day would he spend lying in a bloody hospital bed waiting to be killed. The events of the previous night, Elsie pulling a gun on him, had reminded Tommy that to lie there injured was to simply wait for death and he wouldn't stand for it. Of course, the idea of that pretty nurse getting caught up in the crossfire had added to his determination to leave the hospital but he wouldn't admit that, at least not out loud. However, he did wait until he knew she was working before he decided to just up and leave. It was a little after six when he managed to get himself fully dressed and on his feet. And as he rounded the corner, moving towards the desk where she stood, he could see the apparent worry in her eyes as she noticed him.

"Evening, Elsie." he greeted but she simply frowned at him.

"What are you doing out of bed? Why are you dressed like that?" she asked blatantly.

"I'm discharging myself."

Upon his announcement, her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. Although he knew she was trying to give him a stern look, he couldn't help but think she looked rather cute.

"You can't." she declared in response.

"I can, and I am. Now, give me whatever it is I need to sign." he retaliated.

A triumphant smirk crossed his lips as she turned away from him and he watched her disappear into a little cupboard behind her desk. When she returned, she slammed the small pile of paper down in front of him before slamming her pen down too. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet her's, frowning when she still held the look of disapproval.

"Thank you." he spoke as he picked up the pen.

"If you're discharging yourself early, you need to state why." her voice sounded from above him.

"Do I need to state why or do you just want to know?" he asked in response.

Waiting a few moments, he realised she wasn't going to give an answer. With a roll of his eyes and a huff, Tommy straightened up as best he could, meeting her eyes but noting that the dull grey still held only a look of worry. Giving up, he sighed and leaned forwards across the desk.

"It has come to my attention, Elsie, after last night, that your fears may be right and I am nothing more than a sitting duck in this hospital." he clarified for her. "I refuse to be a sitting duck, injured or not. Now sign my fucking papers and let me out of here."

His last demand caused her to widen her eyes and she scoffed loudly. Watching as she crossed her arms, he couldn't help but glance down at her chest but she cleared her throat disapprovingly before he could get a good look. Instantly, he brought his eyes back to met her's, which now looked challenging.

"You're not leaving this hospital without my say so, Mr. Shelby, so I suggest you find a much nicer way to ask me to do you this favour." she smiled politely.

"I'll match your wage for the month." he offered.

"What?" she blinked rapidly for a few seconds before taking a step back. "Is that what you think I want? Money?" she asked, and he frowned as her voice began to rise.

"I don't give a fuck about your money, Mr. Shelby. It's my job to keep you breathing, not to take bribes so you can get what you want."

Before she could rant or raise her voice any further, Tommy leaned as far across the desk as he could, clamping his hand over her mouth. Reaching across with his free hand, he grasped her upper arm and pulled her closer so that they were eye level. For a moment, he stayed silent, simply drinking in the flowery smell of her perfume. God, she was pretty. It had been two years since Grace had left him, two years since he'd stood this close to such a pretty woman-

"Listen, Elsie." he spoke before he could become distracted by her. "I am leaving this hospital with or without your permission. So you can either sign the fucking papers, or you can watch me walk out the door. It your decision."

She wrenched away from him then, swiping her hand across her mouth. Fear and sadness lurked in her eyes and he had to stop himself from apologising, even if he wasn't sure what he would be apologising for. After a moment or two, she picked up the pen and scribbled her name on the paper before slamming it back down again.

"Get out." she commanded.

"Give me your address?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Silence descended upon the two again as she stared at him. His heart skipped a beat, he swore, as she merely blinked as him and took a step back. Worried that she may walk away, he reached over the desk and picked up a blank sheet of paper, ripping it in half. He placed one half on top of the desk and the pen on top of the paper.

"What for?" she asked, her voice uncertain.

"You say it's your job to keep me breathing so if I ever think I might stop, I'll come to you." he responded, tapping the paper with his index finger.

Hesitantly, she moved forward and he held the pen out for her. As she took it from him, he noticed that she was careful not to touch him. His eyes followed her hand as she wrote her address neatly on the scrap of paper he'd provided for her and when she held it out for him, he made sure to brush his fingertips against the back of her hand. Then, with a nod, he tucked her address inside his coat pocket and left the hospital.