There was only one time that Tommy and Florence had truly fought, long before the war, when they were young. Tommy was teaching the younger boys, including John, how to fight. Florence had asked him to teach her too and he had laughed in her face. So did the rest of the boys. She felt humiliated and refused to be in the same room as him for a week before they had their final blowout over the matter. In an alley off Watery Lane, Florence had shouted at him until she couldn't anymore.

"Do you think less of me because I'm a girl? Do you think John's better than me because he's got a cock? Hm? Do you think he's smarter than me? Thomas, I'm talking to you!"

Tommy understood why she was so upset. The disparities between men and women frustrated her to no end and had done since she was a child. His refusal to teach her to fight wasn't just a disagreement, to her it was a betrayal, confirmation that he was just like the rest of the men that looked down on her. Grabbing her by the shoulders to guide her against the wall, he held her still as she writhed in his grip. A slip of a thing at 16, Florence was no match for his strength. So instead, she refused to meet his eyes.

"Flo, look at me. Look at me." He grabbed her chin, tilting her head so they were almost nose to nose. "I don't think of you as less than any man, you hear me. Me and you, we're the same." He loosened his grip on her, taking a step back. "But I can't teach you to fight with the boys because they're stronger than you. They'll hurt you." Florence opened her mouth to protest, but Tommy raised his hand to silence her. "So instead, I'll teach you myself, just you and me. That way you won't get hurt, alright?"

Florence held his gaze for a moment before nodding slowly. "Alright," she whispered.

The argument was never mentioned again, and Tommy never got around to teaching Florence to fight. They both knew that she didn't really want to learn, she just wanted him to admit he was wrong. Buying her home out from under her was by no means the same. Florence didn't know what Tommy could do to make this one up to her.

When she arrived back at her room, she didn't know what to do with herself. She contemplated packing her bags then and there, but quickly decided against it. Florence wouldn't back down that easily. As far as she was concerned, this was her pub no matter who owned it. Yes, she had been away for a while, but she grew up here, and over the past few months she had poured her heart and soul into running the establishment. Instead, Florence did what she always thought appropriate when she was in a predicament: she cracked open a bottle. It was gin this time, and the burning taste soothed her more than she cared to admit. She knew it was only a matter of time before Tommy would arrive to try and talk things through with her, he just needed time to mull things over. And so did she.

Wracking her brains, she tried to think of what she could do, where she could go. Her friends in London would take her, but not for long, and she was never happy in London. She could go to the docks and board the first boat she could find and see where it would take her. But what was the use in running away from her problems like she always did? Running away never solved anything before.

It wasn't fair on that little girl who deserved better after her mother died. She was ashamed to say that she envied her little brother who would get the life she deserved to have, with an attentive father away from the black hole that was Small Heath. Florence cried, mourning that life she could have known if her dad had done the same for her, the life free from the trouble that always plagued her. It had her questioning whether her life was really worth anything at all.

Florence was awoken by heavy pounding against the door. The room was dark, barely illuminated by the soft moonlight through the windowpane. She was still wearing her dress from the day before and she could feel that her face was swollen and sticky from dried tears. Bleary-eyed and unthinking, before she realised what she was doing she had paced across the room and wrenched the door open. And there he stood. Just a shadow in the darkness at the top of the stairs, but she knew that shadow anywhere. Florence didn't have the energy to be angry anymore. Having cried till there was nothing left, she was now devoid of emotion, numb.

Letting out a long sigh, she turned her back on him, exhaustion calling her back to her cold bed. "What do you want now, Thomas?" The sound of her footsteps against the floorboards were barely audible as she perched on the edge of her bed and began unlacing her boots.

Tommy cleared his throat and took a step towards her, his eyes latching onto her form illuminated by candlelight. "Couldn't sleep unless I knew you were alright," he mumbled, as though he didn't want to admit it out loud. If he was feeling anything, his face didn't give it away.

"How noble of you," Florence exclaimed, wrenching her boot off and tossing it at him, anger suddenly coursing through her at the gall of his words. "It's a shame you weren't thinking about that when you bought my home out from under my feet." Tommy was quick to stop her from throwing the second one too, crossing the room towards her in a few short strides to hold her boot-clad foot in place on the floor.

Florence watched as he untied her bootlace and eased it off her foot, their eyes connecting as he glanced up at her. "You really had me this time, Tom. Just when I thought you fucking cared."

Grabbing her arms roughly, Tommy wrenched Florence to her feet. "Who said I didn't care about you, eh?! I did this for you." He gestured wildly to the walls surrounding them. They were standing so close that she could see the vein throbbing in his forehead. "If someone else bought this place, you'd be out on the fucking street without a leg to stand on. I didn't make the highest offer, but he let me have it for your sake."

Speechless, Florence eyeballed Tommy for a moment before raising her hand across her face, smoothing back her hair in an anxious manner. "I really need a drink…" she murmured, more to herself than to the angry man before her. She turned to her dresser, pulling the drawers open in search of a bottle she had hidden away.

Tommy took deep breaths to calm himself, watching the distracted girl as he lurked in the corner of the room. It only took her a matter of seconds to find the half empty bottle of gin under her bed, uncork it, and swig straight from the bottle.

"You can stay living here for now if that's what you want. But as soon as there's any danger, you can move into Ada's old room. And I don't want you working in the pub anymore."

She discarded the bottle, eyebrows furrowed. "What the fuck, Tommy-"

He raised a hand in warning. "Don't argue with me, Flo, you're not going to change my mind. You're not safe working here if you won't accept protection."

Florence scoffed, astounded that he thought she wouldn't argue with him. "What am I going to do then?"

"Get yourself a job at the infirmary. Write a fucking novel. I don't care. Just not here."

Perching on the bed, she hiked her dress up and started removing her stockings. Her eyes were wild as she laughed. "So, from tomorrow that's it, is it? I have no income until I can find something better to do?" She began to question if she was dreaming or not. The whole conversation was bizarre to her, and she couldn't comprehend how much her future had changed in the matter of a day.

"If the money's the problem, I've got money." He knew it would anger the independent woman, but he wanted her to know that he'd provide for her if she needed it.

The audacity of his suggestion had Florence gasping in astonishment. "I'm not your charity case, Thomas. I won't let you buy me out as well."

"Then work for it. We could do with someone in the shop that's experienced with medicine."

"And I'm definitely not going to be your fucking nurse." Discarding her stockings, she gestured for him to turn around before lifting her dress over her head.

Tommy stared at the wall, ears attuned to the rustling of clothes coming from behind him, hands stuffed into his pockets. "Did you hear me say that, eh? Just help Pol take bets and do the counting and fix anyone up if they need it, alright?" He turned around to find her clad in just a night shirt, running a hairbrush through her hair.

"Why?" She boldly demanded, refusing to look at him as she busied herself in the mirror.

"What do you mean?" Tommy couldn't resist looking her up and down as she faced away from him, observing the bare skin of her calves, knees, thighs.

"Why do you want me working for you? And why do you want me living in your house? Because since I got here you've been keeping me at arm's length. What's changed?"

"Since you pulled a gun on one of the most dangerous men in the country, you're involved in this business now. We want to keep you safe, Flo. Let us keep you safe."

Hesitantly, Florence nodded. The burst of energy she had found had faded, and she was too tired to fight him anymore, tears springing to her eyes at the thought of the day's events.

Approaching her slowly, he reached out a hand to stroke her hair, his touch tender, a fleeting glimpse of the old Tommy. "I'll stay here with you tonight, eh?" The question slipped out before he could stop himself. Seeing her there, barely clothed and in a vulnerable state, it felt wrong to leave her. At least that was how he tried to rationalize it to himself.

Florence nodded, "Okay." Tommy didn't expect her to say yes, nor did he expect her to embrace him in the way she did, but nonetheless he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

Florence didn't know why she agreed, and she didn't want to let go of him. There was something about being so close to him that made her feel secure. She couldn't understand it – earlier that day she wanted nothing more to do with him, but now… logically, it didn't make sense, but to her it did.

"Flo, love, you need to let go of me."

"Sorry," she mumbled as he helped her into the bed. She watched as he shrugged off his jacket and shoes, leaving them neatly by the door. Sliding in next to her, he held her close like he used to, her hair tickling his chin as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Tommy felt her shoulder's shudder as she let out the tears she was trying to hold back.

"I've got you, Flo," he whispered into her hair.