Wicked Game

"Mason!"

Tom turned around, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand against the glare of the winter sun, his stomach turning at the sight of Weaver striding across the grass towards him. He'd left Vivien in Weaver's makeshift military headquarters, Hal and Karen keeping her under armed guard, a temporary promotion the two teenagers had heralded with high-fives and hip bumps. Tom had personally prepared two large bowls of oatmeal for Vivien, as well as providing her with three cartons of orange juice. He'd also taken the time to procure the Doctor a camp-bed, something he'd made sure to tell her. But a sullen silence was all the thanks he got for his efforts, irritating Tom against his will.

"You dumped that half breed in my quarters," Weaver spat, drawing level with Tom. "Yours too good to sully or something?"

"I don't have any quarters to 'dump' her in," Tom retorted, shouldering his rifle. "But I assure you, she's toilet-trained."

Weaver stared at him before bursting out into a bark of laughter, startling Tom. "Oh, crack a smile, Professor," he grinned, "it wouldn't kill you, would it?"

"What's being done about Click's body?" Tom asked coldly and deliberately.

Weaver's face instantly fell back into usual harsh lines. "Anthony and Dai collected it while you were away," he said, his voice shaking a little. "We're going to bury him out back with full military honours."

Tom bowed his head, Weaver looking away, both men mourning the loss of a friend and fighter.

"Captain!"

They glanced up, only to see Danner approaching, his face screwed up in its perpetual frown. Behind him were three other fighters, including the double-denimed man who'd led the beating of the Doctor the night South Boston was bombed; the others being a small squat man sporting the strange combination of a bald head and luxuriant beard, as well as a red-haired woman who Tom remembered as being too trigger-happy for his taste.

"What's the problem, Lieutenant?" Weaver asked, reading Danner's body language like a book.

"Mason's youngest brat has commandeered the principal's office for his personal playroom," Danner spat, "whilst I've got two dozen men baying for a place to lay their heads" -

- "Shut your mouth, asshole," Tom hissed, stepping forwards. "My son isn't a brat!"

"I'll show you who's an asshole, Mason!" Danner exploded, the red-haired woman restraining him with a warning hand, the gesture oddly intimate, making Tom realise with some surprise Danner and the woman were involved in some way. Somehow the thought made him think of Vivien, forcing him to banish the memory of her blue eyes from his mind.

"My son isn't a brat," Tom reiterated from between gritted teeth, "but if there's an issue with billeting, we'll sort it out like the mature adults we are, yes?" He raised his eyebrows, silently daring Danner to defy him even further, his fists itching for a fight.

"Tom and his family haven't been assigned their own quarters yet," Weaver interjected smoothly, startling Tom again, "so I'm delegating that space as their canton."

"But what about" -

- "The English classroom is empty," Weaver said abruptly. "Put your men in there. There wouldn't be enough room for them in that office anyways" -

- "That's what I said," the woman interrupted, rolling her eyes, speaking up for the first time. "But did he listen? No, he did not." She made a strange sideways motion with her fingers, snapping them like castanets, jerking her head back and forth for good measure, putting Tom in mind of an angry hen.

"And that's why I didn't want you coming with me," Danner drawled, rounding on her.

"I was just lendin' you some moral support" –

- "You call that Dolly Parton impersonation moral support!?" Danner interrupted incredulously. "You stoned, sweetheart!?"

The woman just stared at Danner. "Well, don't come crawlin' into my sleepin' bag tonight when Dan's done with makin' you do his dirty work," she retorted, recovering herself. "I ain't gonna waste my beauty sleep on someone who treats me like I'm trailer trash." With that, she turned on her heel, stalking off back to the school, her red hair swishing behind her as she went, Danner watching her go, something like reluctant admiration flickering behind his angry eyes.

"An' that's why women shouldn't take up arms," the double-denimed man said, letting out a low whistle.

"And why civilians shouldn't become soldiers," the other man chimed in, reminding Tom of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

"The two of you were civilians before I took you in hand," Weaver snapped, whirling on them. "And you're fighters, not soldiers - there's a difference between the two."

"Plus you can't shoot straight," Tom aimed at the double-denimed man, rounding on him.

"I can still kick your ass to kingdom come," the double-denimed man snapped.

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise," the double-denimed man sneered. "We don't take too kindly to Skitter sympathizers around here."

"That's enough," Weaver growled. "Tom's an ass, but he's no alien lover."

"What's with him and Miss. Universe, then?" the double-denimed man challenged. "From what I've been hearin', he's been helpin' himself to some extra-terrestrial spoils."

"You're about one step away from sedition, chawbacon," Weaver warned. "Cut and run or I'll be slamming you in the slammer."

The double-denimed man bowed his head, eyes flashing with badly hidden resentment, before letting the other man lead him away, Danner following them, giving Tom one last glare.

"God, I wish I had one moment to myself sometimes," Weaver said in an undertone to Tom.

"I know," Tom agreed emphatically, "tell me about it."

"Is that not your whelp over there?" Weaver then said suddenly, pointing vaguely in the direction of the swing-set.

Tom craned his neck, catching a flash of dark blonde curls. "Well-spotted," he said dryly. "I better check in with him."

Weaver just nodded before heading back into the school, Tom striding across the overgrown grass, adjusting the strap of his rifle. All around him, children darted like dragonflies, playing tag, adults ferrying supplies to and fro, Uncle Scott scurrying around like the White Rabbit, the sight making Tom smile despite himself. Alien invasion or not, life went on, the sun rising and setting as ever.

"Hey, Matt!" he called, the little boy lifting his head, eyes lighting up at the sight of his father.

"Dad!" Matt cried, leaping to his feet and hurling himself at Tom.

Love suddenly swept through his heart for his small son, making Tom swing Matt up in his arms, holding him close to him, resting his bearded cheek against his son's smooth one. "I missed you little man," Tom said, kissing Matt's forehead as he carried him over to a bench, before sitting down on it, Matt leaning his head against his shoulder.

"I missed you too," Matt said, sounding very old.

"I'm... sorry," Tom said, making Matt glance up at him, "about before, when I snapped at you in the corridor. I shouldn't have done that."

"S'OK," Matt said, shrugging his shoulder. "We can play catch later."

"Sure thing, chicken wing."

"I'm not a chicken," Matt flared up.

"No, you're a chicken wing," Tom explained hastily. "There's a world of difference between the two."

Matt just scowled at him, dark eyes suspicious.

"What's this I'm hearing about the headmaster's office?" Tom teased. "You setting yourself up in state in there?"

"Everyone else had been assigned quarters apart from us," Matt said seriously. "Somebody had to take care of it, so I stepped up."

"Good," Tom said, repressing a grin.

"Good," Matt echoed, leaning his head back against Tom's shoulder.

They sat in silence for several long moments, Tom's thoughts guiltily winding their way back to Vivien and away from her again, trying not to remember her cutting words or the curve of her hips under his hands -

"Dad," Matt said, distracting Tom from his tumultuous, treacherous thoughts.

"What is it, son?" Tom said gruffly, the sight of his son's small face making the world make sense again.

"I wish Mom was here," the little boy said simply.

Vivien watched the two female guards go, glad to see the back of them. Hal and Karen had been excused earlier so they could pay their respects to Click, the 2nd Mass burying him out back with full military honours, Anthony leading the memorial service. Tom had stood side by side with Anthony, along with Hal, Karen and Dai, those closest to Click honouring his memory. Now Tom and Weaver had returned to resume their questioning of Vivien, the former now standing in front of the latter, humans versus hybrid.

A scout had been sent to Porter's unit with a coded message detailing Vivien's capture and the co-ordinates of their new locale, so apart from waiting for Porter's answer, all they could do was continue to contain Vivien and the Doctor, though Tom suspected this would be the easy part. The 2nd Mass were ready to riot at a moment's notice, objecting to having aliens in such close proximity to their families. So far their hostility had been limited to words, but it would only be a matter of time before the situation escalated into violence.

Weaver studied Vivien's face, trying to find the threat. But all he seen was a fall of black hair and crimson lips, reminding him of Snow White in her glass coffin. Despite her vivid colouring, Vivien was no beauty, her features plain and nondescript. She was no shrinking violet either, but her personality left a lot to be desired, being probably vivacious on her good days, vicious on her bad. To Tom, she was like a shooting star, there one moment, and then gone the next; strange, almost exotic; Tom seeing not a monster, but a brave woman who possessed a reckless, ruthless courage made all the more frightening because she was frightened.

"You're not telling us the whole story, Vivien," Tom said again, trying to keep his temper.

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because I just can't, alright!?"

"Is this a trap, Vivien?" Tom asked, his voice cracking. "That no matter what we do, it's game over" -

- "No, it's not a trap!" Vivien spat.

"Then tell us what the hell is going on!"

"I just can't, alright!"

"Why the hell not?"

Vivien looked away.

"We are fighting a war, Vivien," Tom said, stepping forwards, "not having a tea-party" -

- "I don't care!" Vivien exclaimed, flinging her hands up. "Do I look like someone who cares" -

- "They took my son and killed my wife!" Tom suddenly exploded, making her flinch. "They took him and I don't know if he's dead or alive or - or anything. All I know is that they ripped his humanity away from him, harnessing him, turning him into a mindless slave. That's why I'm fighting this war - it's not to save the human race. It's for revenge, Vivien, goddamn revenge."

Vivien stared at him. "If you want revenge, Tom, you can start with me, can't you?" she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I mean, you think I'm with them anyways, so why risk everything for a turncoat?"

Tom exhaled sharply. "I think you're caught in the crossfire," he said tiredly, spreading his own hands wide, "another casualty of war."

"That doesn't mean you have to save me from it," Vivien snapped. "I can save myself."

"If I don't, you'll just be another person I failed, another person I couldn't save, and there's been many, believe me, who I've not been able to save, who have died right in front of me - blown apart, reduced to ash, gunned down and ripped to pieces. I'm not going to let that happen to you, Vivien."

Vivien stared at him again, almost incredulously. "You don't know me, Tom," she said, voice cracking, "you just know what I am."

Tom just shook his head, turning away from her.

"Enough with the psychobabble," Weaver said abruptly, "that card is obviously not working."

"Obviously," Vivien said from between gritted teeth, folding her arms across her chest.

Weaver exhaled sharply, straightening his skip-hat as he did so, hiding his discomfort at how disarmingly human she looked, apart from her extraordinary eyes. "I'm going to be upfront with you, Miss Holmes," Weaver said slowly, "your status within the 2nd Mass might be unclear, but you will not be molested or harmed in any way. We are not Pope and his gang; you will be treated with respect at all times - within reason, of course."

"I think what you're really trying to say is that you'll put a bullet in me at the slightest provocation," Vivien said dangerously, "just like you did with the Doctor."

"As long as you co-operate, your safety is assured," Weaver tried to say calmly, "and if the situation should arise that the safety of the 2nd Mass relies on you being handed over to the Skitters, such an action will be executed. But we're in accord on this, aren't we?"

Vivien hesitated before nodding, her jaw tightening.

"Dan" - Tom began, Weaver silencing him with his hand.

"This is between me and... and her, Tom," Weaver said with some difficulty. "Not you and the rest of the world."

"But it may come to that," Tom pressed. "That's what you've been making out all down the line."

"It's between me and her," Weaver reiterated.

"I know my own mind," Vivien flared up, rounding on Tom. "I don't need you to decide for me."

"I'm trying to keep you safe," Tom retorted.

"Why exactly?" Vivien snapped. "The only thing you're interested in is getting as much intel out of me as possible. Anything else is irrelevant. And besides, I don't need a bloody bodyguard."

"Your safety is a serious security matter, not just for yourself, but also for the 2nd Mass."

Vivien glanced at Tom sharply, her black brows drawing together.

"If you don't want to talk about your dalliance with the Skitters," Weaver said, sitting down on the edge of a desk, "we'll talk some more about your precious Doctor instead."

"What, you want me to spill the beans on him?"

"In a nutshell, yes," Weaver said, "so let's start with how the two of you met."

"I inherited him from my mother," Vivien said bluntly.

"Excuse me?"

"My mother knew him, and he was fond of her. When she died, he stuck around to keep an eye on me."

"So your relationship is not a... romantic one?" Weaver said delicately, Tom half turning away.

"Hell, no."

"How did he get here?"

"His spaceship crashed," Vivien lied, her heart twisting in her chest over the real loss of the TARDIS. She'd been trying to block out her pain, but out of the blue it would return, like now, hitting her like a bullet, tearing her apart inside.

"It crashed where?"

"The Bermuda Triangle," Vivien said smartly, trying to maintain the pretence of her poise, "Roswell - take your pick, Pony-Tail."

Despite himself, Tom repressed a snort.

"What kind of alien is he?" Weaver barked, struggling to keep his temper under control.

"He's Gallifreyan."

"What the heck does that mean?"

"It means he's from the planet Gallifrey," Vivien said slowly, looking at Weaver like he was an imbecile. "He's a Time Lord."

"So why is he here?" Weaver asked. "If it's not to make war, why doesn't he tick-tock back home?"

"He can't."

"Why not?"

"Gallifrey's gone."

"Gone?"

"What happened?" Tom interjected, becoming tired of the verbal ping-pong.

"There was a war," Vivien said tiredly.

"And... Gallifrey was destroyed in this... war?" Tom pressed, exchanging a glance with Weaver.

"The Doctor destroyed Gallifrey."

"Why?" Tom said, shocked.

"The war had destroyed so much already," Vivien explained, her voice cracking, "and it was beginning to threaten the rest of the universe, so he had to make a decision. The universe or his planet? So... he sacrificed everything for our sakes."

There was a long silence.

"But did he really have to?" Tom asked.

"Have to what?" Vivien said, confused.

"Make that kind of choice, that's what."

"Does it matter?" Vivien spat. "Gallifrey's long gone" -

- "Never mind all that," Weaver interrupted, irritated. "I want to know about this war."

"Well, what do you want to know, oh Wise One?" Vivien said sarcastically.

"Well, who was fighting who?"

"The Time Lords were fighting the Daleks."

"The what?"

"The Daleks," Vivien snapped.

"The Doctor mentioned them before," Tom pointed out.

"Yeah, they've been kicking about for a while, causing trouble and shit," Vivien said, looking longingly at the door.

"But if the Doctor blew them all up, how could they attack the Earth - if they ever did, that is," Weaver said, suspicious.

"Because that's what they do, they keep coming back," Vivien sighed, "and don't ask me to explain how because I sure as hell don't know."

"What about the Doctor's people, then?" Weaver fired at her. "Should we be expecting a visit from them as well?"

"Did you not hear me?" Vivien said. "They're all gone. The Doctor is the only one left - he's the last of the Time Lords."

"You said the Daleks were gone, yet they apparently came back. How can you say his side of the family won't do the same?" Weaver said, straightening his skip-hat.

Vivien looked away, thinking of the Master.

"So there really are other aliens, then?" Weaver said, something in his voice making Vivien glance sharply at him. "It's not just these bastards we're dealing with?"

Vivien nodded, biting her lip.

"What about the ones that supposedly hurt you?" Weaver said suddenly. "Who were they? What are they called?"

"That's enough," Tom snapped, seeing Vivien pale in the face of Weaver's intrusive turn of questioning.

Weaver's jaw tightened, but he didn't push it.

"Are we done here?" Tom then asked abruptly.

"I suppose so," Weaver said reluctantly. "Whether she's telling the truth, I don't know - I suppose we'll just have to wait and see."

"Fine," Tom said, taking Vivien's elbow. "Just to let you know though," he said suddenly over his shoulder to Weaver as he steered Vivien towards the door, "I'm going out to search for Ben tomorrow. Having a base to come back to means I can take a team out and start looking properly, not this stop and start shit we've been doing."

"Tom" -

- "Don't try and stop me, Dan," Tom said dangerously before leaving, all but dragging Vivien with him.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do...

Vivien leaned against the science bench, glancing around the makeshift medical clinic, reluctantly admiring what Anne and Lourdes had done with the little they had. Anne was nowhere to be seen, the female fighters from before long gone, but there were two armed soldiers on the doors outside, their gazes resolutely fixed on the wall ahead. Radnanski lay on a camp bed by one of the windows, fast asleep, snoring for Sweden, his double chins trembling in tandem with each snort. Vivien watched him for a moment, guilt rising in her again, before hastily looking away, refusing to entertain the qualms of her conscience.

Tom was in the ante-room, forcing Vivien to remain where she was until he saw fit to escort her through. She'd spent a good ten minutes alternating between arguing with and appealing to Tom to allow her see the Doctor again, before breaking down into angry tears, making him reluctantly give way to her request. This act of weakness on his part had sown a seed in Vivien's mind, a seed that had quickly taken root during Tom's absence. With food in her belly and warm clothes on her back, Vivien was in a position to start planning an escape - the sooner the better. Once the Doctor was mobile, she could put a plan into action. The only problem was conjuring up a plan in the first place.

With no weapons, the TARDIS long gone and an alien army after her, Vivien wasn't quite sure which way to turn. Her only starting point was Tom. He was the weak link in the chain, but she didn't know how to break him. Flirting her way out seemed the only way forward. She'd used it as a weapon on him from the beginning, albeit with little success, but she hadn't been at her best then. Now she was relatively presentable, she could make a fresh assault on his baser instincts, using less sarcasm and more sugar, promising everything and delivering nothing.

It was a preposterous plan, but it was all she had, not realising she had begun playing such a dangerous game with Tom in the first place because she subconsciously sensed he was safe; that he wouldn't take advantage of her. Tossing her hair back, she tugged down the pleated neckline of the smock top, showing some more skin, a mere hint of what he could have, before biting her lips, making them even redder than ever. Without thinking, Vivien glanced at the swing doors that led out into the corridor, Lourdes glancing up from where she was checking some charts just in time to see her doing so.

"I wouldn't," Lourdes warned quietly, the memory of Jamil laughing and joking with Vivien still strangely stinging. "They won't hesitate to shoot."

Vivien did a double-take, before recovering herself. "I wasn't going to make a run for it," she said dangerously. "I'm not going to abandon the Doctor to save my own arse."

Lourdes ignored her, resuming checking the charts, using the pen with more force than necessary.

"Look, I... I know what you did for him, how you helped him," Vivien then said in a low voice, startling Lourdes. "Thank you." Lourdes bit her lip, looking away. Then Tom came striding out of the ante-room, looking harassed, his hair rumpled, the swing doors banging together behind him. Vivien immediately struck a seductive pose, making Lourdes look at her like she was mad. "Can I see him now?" she asked breathily, pushing her hair back almost provocatively.

Tom just stared at her, his breath hitching in his throat despite himself. "Sorry, yeah, I mean, yeah, you can," he said with some difficulty. "He's - he's sitting up now."

Vivien just looked at him, smirking slightly. But in that moment, it was malice and not humour that was in her heart, making her suddenly sashay forwards and kiss the underside of his bearded jaw, her hand running down the length of his arm as her blue eyes innocently met his. Before she could react, Tom had grabbed her wrist, almost twisting it, halting her in his tracks, his face thunderous as he loomed over her.

"Don't start playing that kind of game with me, Vivien," he snapped, not caring Lourdes was listening. "I'm not into bartering flesh for favours."

"Alien flesh or otherwise?" Vivien taunted, tearing herself out of his grip.

"Neither."

They stared at each other, Tom's jaw tightening.

"I'm been playing this game from the beginning," Vivien then hissed, startling him. "Why are you taking the moral high ground now?"

"Because there's a difference between pissing me off and pretending to offer yourself to me on a plate," Tom hissed back. "I think I prefer the former."

Vivien stared at him, insulted against her will. Then she stalked into the ante-room, Tom following her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her primitive attempts to seduce him onside, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. Yet at the same time, it secretly sickened him to think she thought he was capable of being that corrupt. Ignoring the soldiers, Vivien headed towards the Doctor's lock-up, relieved to see that Tom hadn't lied, that he was sitting up, his face pale in the dim gloom. As she went past, Pope's head shot up, eyes confused.

"Red-Coat, is that you?" Pope asked, getting to his feet.

"Yes, it's me, dickhead," Vivien snapped.

"But you look..." Pope flapped his hand at her, words failing him.

"Breathtakingly beautiful?" Vivien said sarcastically.

"No, you look totally fugly," Pope said with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "I'd rather eat my own vomit than... well, you know." He eyed her as though she was a piece of shit on his shoe.

"I hope you choke on it," Vivien said smartly, effectively ending the conversation.

Pope just flipped her the middle finger before slumping back down on the ground again, looked bored out of his skull. Vivien gripped the mesh wire, the difference between lock-up and cage not making any difference to her, appearing all the same. The Doctor got up off the camp bed with some difficulty, stowing away a thick volume under his pillow as he did so.

"You enjoying Keats, then?" Tom asked, stepping forwards.

"I prefer Pope," the Doctor said tetchily.

"Don't prefer me, pal," Pope snapped.

"He's talking about the poet," Tom said, rolling his eyes.

"You have books?" Vivien asked the Doctor, confused.

"Just the one," the Doctor said, sliding his fingers through the mesh wire and over hers, almost clinging to them, Tom turning away, his heart twisting treacherously at the sight of their intertwined fingers.

Vivien glanced at Tom's broad back, guessing he was behind the book. "How are you holding up?" she then asked the Doctor, her voice cracking.

"All the better now you're here," the Doctor whispered.

Vivien smiled brokenly, leaning her head against the mesh, the Doctor doing the same on the other side.

"I wanted to find you," the Doctor said, his own voice cracking now, "but..."

"They shot you?" Vivien finished for him, straightening up.

The Doctor looked away, Tom turning back around, his face carefully careless.

"Hey Cambridge, how come he gets all the perks and I don't?" Pope demanded. "Or are you giving him books to get into her good books?" he said slyly, with a pointed glance at Vivien.

"Shut the hell up," Tom snarled, flushing hotly.

"How are you?" the Doctor asked Vivien in an undertone. "Is it all five star hotels and three course meals?"

"Could be worse," Vivien said flippantly. "I might have ended up in a ditch."

"She's being hunted by the Mechs and Skitters," Tom said abruptly, making the Doctor's head jerk up. "Why, we don't know."

The Doctor just stared at Vivien for a long moment, his ancient eyes searching her face as though he could find the answer there. Vivien stared at him in return, trying to say with silence what she couldn't say with words, her grief over the TARDIS being gone, her fear for his life and her own. "Here," he said suddenly, pulling something small out of his suit pocket, "put this on." He slid it through the mesh and into her hand, Vivien staring at it in confusion. It was a wedding ring, a simple gold band.

"How are you doing that!?" Tom asked exasperated.

"Doing what?" Vivien asked, not really listening as she turned the ring over in her hand.

"Every time we search his pockets, they're empty," Tom explained, "yet time after time he keeps pulling junk out of them. I can't explain it."

"Telepathic tailoring," Vivien said before she could stop herself.

"Excuse me?" Tom asked, confused this time.

"What is this?" Vivien asked the Doctor, ignoring Tom as she held up the ring.

"Bio-damper ring," the Doctor said. "It'll hide you in plain sight."

Vivien raised her eyebrows in expectation for further explanation, but it was in vain.

Tom glanced at the ring, then the Doctor, his brow furrowing. "That will keep her safe?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yes, it'll keep her safe," the Doctor said impatiently, rolling his eyes.

Sighing heavily, Tom took the gold band from Vivien, before slipping it onto her ring finger. "For better and for worse, then," he said darkly.

"You are the saddest man I have ever seen, Mason," Pope said, disgusted.

Vivien took her hand from Tom's, glaring at Pope as she did so. Tom just shook his head before stalking out of the ante-room, the Doctor watching him go with a raised eyebrow.

"What's your beef with him?" Vivien spat at Pope. "He's - he's a good man!" The words escaped her before she could stop them, making her wish she could take them back.

"Am I a good man, Vivien?" the Doctor asked, his dark eyes glittering strangely.

Vivien just shook her head, echoing Tom.

"Does that mean I'm not?" the Doctor said, raising both eyebrows now.

"It doesn't mean anything," Vivien snapped, glancing nervously over her shoulder at the soldiers.

"You should go," the Doctor said, interpreting her glance. "When Mephistopheles is away, the mice will play."

"No" -

- "Go, Vivien," the Doctor said as one of the soldiers stepped forwards.

Reluctantly, Vivien turned to leave. But as she did, Pope got to his feet, using the mesh wire to pull himself up. "Wait up, Red-Coat," he said, his voice cracking. "My... my brother, was it quick?"

Vivien looked at him in disgust. "Yes, it was," she said against her will.

Pope nodded thoughtfully, pain flickering in his eyes behind the facade. As Vivien headed for the swing doors, he spoke again, his voice low. "You better watch your back, bitch," he said, "you might have the Professor panting after you, but the rest of his merry band is baying for your blood."

"Don't worry about me, worry about yourself," Vivien said, before turning and leaving the ante-room.