Oh My Heart Was Flawed
Tom glanced up from where he was writing out the previous day's events in his journal, deliberately keeping its contents businesslike, not wanting to pour out his troubled heart onto the pages like some teenage girl. As he agonised over a word, Vivien entered the room, carrying a basket of neatly mended clothing, Tom starting slightly as the door closed with a clang behind her.
"I told the guards I wasn't to be disturbed," Tom said tersely, resuming his writing, digging his pen almost painfully into the paper.
"Thank you, Vivien, for sewing the holes in my stinking socks," Vivien said sarcastically, setting the basket down on the ground before hoisting herself onto the edge of his desk, crossing her bare legs provocatively, making Tom lower his pen, eyes narrowing, "it was most generous of you."
"It's your job, Vivien," Tom said cuttingly, closing his journal, before standing up, not wanting to sit with Vivien like this, as if she was some student intent on seducing him.
"You made it my job," Vivien said, shaking her black hair back, "whether I wanted it or not."
"What do you want, Vivien?" Tom snapped.
"Do you really need to ask?"
"Just get out," Tom said tiredly, "I'm sick of your little set-ups."
Vivien slid off the edge of the desk, a sneer spreading across her lips, making Tom roll his eyes. "You love me really," she said, sidling up to him, making Tom take a step back, "don't you?"
"If you say so," Tom said, holding the door open for her, "now get."
As she left the room, flicking the middle finger at Tom as she went, Tom rolled his eyes again at her immaturity before sitting down in his seat again, picking up his pen only to set it down on the desk, fighting his thoughts, trying not to remember the sight of Vivien sitting on his desk, her legs going on for miles.
Exhaling sharply, he leant over and picked up the basket of clothes she'd left, dumping it on his desk with a large bang, venting his frustration. Rifling through the various shirts and rolled up socks, it was only for his hand to hit something hard, Tom immediately tensing up, suspecting a trap. But curiosity got the better of him, Tom hesitating before carefully lifting the layer of shirts and socks that separated him from what he was searching for, only for his fingers to close around a book, the surprise startling Tom.
With his heart strangely beating fast, he picked the book up, his gaze travelling across the familiar title, Democracy For America by Alexis de Tocqueville. Flicking past the frontispiece, his attention was immediately caught by Vivien's untidy scrawl, To T, Love V. the sight suddenly infuriating him, making him slam the book down on the desk, before turning and booting the wall, knowing he had already lost the war before it had begun.
But oh, my heart was flawed
I knew my weakness...
Vivien ran a damp cloth over the science bench, watching the Doctor from the corner of her eye as he cleaned up a bad cut on Anthony's hand, his brow furrowing as he ascertained whether the wound needed stitches or not. The Doctor now stood as a stranger in her eyes, Vivien no longer recognizing him or the way he shrank from saving the world instead of rushing in where angels feared to tread.
"Vivien," the Doctor called over, straightening up, "come and work your magic. Mind you scrub up first though."
"Hey, she's here to clean," Anne interjected, dismissing her own patient, "not to work medical miracles."
"She's got to keep her hand in," the Doctor said coldly, "using Anthony's hand so to speak. If you started teaching people basic procedures, such as stitching up wounds and so forth, it would save you a lot of time" -
- "Time we don't have as it is," Anne retorted. "And anyways, speaking as a medical professional, I prefer my patients to come to me instead of inflicting DIY disasters on their injuries" -
-"Vivien is perfectly capable of stitching up a minor wound," the Doctor cut across Anne, "as long as it's not open heart surgery, Anthony will be alright." He made to ruffle up Anthony's hair, only to see a shaven head instead, making his hand freeze in mid-air. "Oh," he said stupidly, dropping his hand to his side, "I see we'll just have to forget the hair ruffling since there's no hair to ruffle. But you'll be A-OK, Anthony, spiffing-tip-top-clip-clop" –
- "I think I get the picture," Anthony said uneasily, watching as Vivien vigorously cleaned her hands, not entirely happy at having his own hand at her mercy. Whilst Anthony had become used to the Doctor's eccentricities, Vivien was an unknown quantity, Anthony more than happy to leave her to Tom's suspiciously tender care.
"Don't worry, I don't bite," Vivien said sarcastically as she came over, Anthony unconsciously angling his body away from hers. "I reserve that strictly for special occasions."
Lourdes smothered a smile at this, Anne observing it, before turning away, her lips thinning. She didn't want Vivien here, reminding her all over again of what she'd lost, Anne deliberately isolating herself from Tom, all but barring him from the clinic. She still had strong feelings for him, and she despised herself for desiring to be happy with a man who no longer wanted her, his feelings fickle, his abandonment almost insulting.
"Heads up people," Dai said as he strode through the swing doors, "I'm looking for Vivien Alison Holmes. Heard she would be here." He glanced around at everyone, their curious faces not the one he was looking for until Vivien stepped forwards, making his head snap up. "Vivien?" he said, making her frown.
"Guilty as charged," Vivien snapped, "but you know that already. We met before, back at the auditorium, thanks to Pope the Prick."
"Do not mention that man's name in my hearing," Dai said, "but yeah, we've met, I remember. Either way, I still have to observe protocol, princess."
"Would you get to the point, Dai," Anthony said, rolling his eyes. "Walking wounded here."
"Tom wants to speak to you," Dai said to Vivien, "I've to escort you to his quarters."
"Are you sure that's all he wants?" the Doctor said darkly, making Vivien round on him, her face furious.
"Shut your bloody mouth," she hissed, "you want to be strung up by the ankles?"
"Been there, done that," the Doctor said dismissively, "now step aside, you're impeding medical progress."
"You wanted to speak to me?" Vivien said, closing the door behind her, nostrils flaring at the faint but bitter tang of bourbon in the air.
"Yeah," Tom snapped, leaning back in his chair, "I was rather startled by the surprise you sprung me." He gestured with a large hand to the book on his desk, Vivien's gaze falling upon it, the colour rising in her cheeks.
"I was trying to be nice," Vivien said through gritted teeth. "There was no ulterior motive."
"Nice why?"
"I was just trying to show my appreciation for what you've tried to do for me and the Doctor."
"Yeah, I tried - miserably might I add," Tom said, a sneer spreading across his lips. "The two of you literally bought the bullet on my watch."
Vivien looked away, her fists clenching by her sides, now bitterly regretting giving him the book. She had traded taking on more laundry detail for it, her eye caught by the cover, making her think of Tom.
"Whilst I appreciate your kind thought, there's a chain of command that has to be observed," Tom then said coldly, "meaning I can't accept your gift as it will compromise my position" -
- "What, it would look like you're abusing your authority?"
"Exactly."
"Why, because it would imply we were having an intimate relationship?"
"Do you want me to spell it out, Vivien?" Tom snapped, not liking the equally intimate tone Vivien had adopted. "Or do you want a little Powerpoint presentation?"
"But you've given me stuff," Vivien snapped back, folding her arms across her chest, "so to all intents and purposes, that smacks of" -
- "That was an oversight," Tom said, straightening up, "I felt sorry for you" -
- "I never asked for your bloody pity" -
- "Just take the goddamn book!" Tom exploded, making Vivien start violently. "Jesus," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "just take the book and go."
"What is your problem with me?" Vivien said, tears burning the back of her eyes. "If it's not what I am, what the hell is it, then?"
"I have 99 problems on my plate," Tom snapped, getting up, going round the desk to her, "I don't need you to make 100."
"I'm your biggest problem," Vivien said, shoving him hard in the chest, "the Doctor your second"-
- "My first priority is my family," Tom said, grabbing her wrists, "not you."
Vivien just glanced down at his large hands shackling her wrists, before looking up through her eyelashes at him, biting her lip. "Like I said before, you don't look like the type," she said provocatively, her new turn of tone making Tom let of her immediately.
"I prefer passion, not pain," Tom said sarcastically, sitting down in his seat again, putting the desk between them both.
"Now we're finally getting somewhere," Vivien exclaimed, rounding the desk, perching on the arm of Tom's chair. "What else do you prefer? I'm all ears" -
- "I'm going to give you to the count of one to get the hell off my chair," Tom said from between gritted teeth. "One" -
- "God, you're a hard nut to crack," Vivien snapped, getting up, "what's your deal?"
"My deal?" Tom said incredulously. "What's yours? To annoy me to death?"
"You like it really."
"I really don't."
Vivien raised an eyebrow, before leaning over the desk, giving Tom a good eyeful of her cleavage, the thin strap of her camisole slipping down her bare shoulder, making Tom hastily avert his eyes a beat too late, Vivien's eyebrow inching up even higher. "You didn't need to summon me here like some naughty schoolgirl," she said quietly, "you could have just sent the book back or even dumped it."
"I summoned you here to warn you about your ridiculous behaviour," Tom said with some difficulty, "that you're jeopardising your position and the Doctor's as well. We've already discussed this, Vivien. You're treading a very thin line."
Vivien straightened up, face paling. "The Doctor hasn't done anything," she said, voice cracking, "he's playing ball."
"But you aren't. The Doctor is the deal-breaker. You screw up, he suffers the fallout."
Vivien stared at Tom's unrelenting face. "What, you'd hurt him to hurt me?" she said, frightened, no longer the belle-temptress.
"Consider this your first warning, Vivien," Tom said, picking up his pen again, "the second one will see the Doctor out of the game. It's your choice. So don't screw up, okay?"