Forget Me Not

All Work, No Play - Tom's Interlude

takes place before chapter 4 from Tom's point of view! 

***

Tom had a headache. It was the first thing he noticed when he sat down at his desk the morning after you left.

His knuckles throbbed and his temple hurt something awful, and his usual shot of whisky and paracetamol did anything.

"Fucking hell," Tom grunted as he remembered last night. The fear in your eyes when he came back to his room with bloody knuckles. The pity.

Looking back, it was stupid of him to ask you to leave, you were the first person outside of his employees that seemed to car about him.

For once, he felt something more than a drive to fulfill his dead father's wishes.

And he blew it.

"Hey, boss. I just wanted to let you know I got Y/N home safe last night, er, this morning." Dean popped his head in, smiling softly.

"Thanks. Can you see if Scarlett's available? I need to speak with her."

Dean agreed and shut the door just a tad bit too loudly after Tom smiled weakly.

Time passed too quickly for his headache to resolve when Scarlett barged in. All fire and no chill, the door slammed against the wall when she opened it.

"What's up, boss man?"

Scarlett sat down, red hair curled in a messy bun atop her head.

"Did Harrison talk to you last night?"

"You really want me to talk to Dina for you?" Scarlett laughed, sitting precariously on the edge of Tom's desk.

"It's not-." Tom squeezed his eyes shut, slamming his fist against the table. "I messed up."

"Woah." Scarlett laughed, tapping her fingers against the dark oak. "Admitting you messed up? How cute is this girl? Think she'd be into me?"

Tom rolled his eyes at Scarlett's joke, used to her joking around. Her light-heartedness kept her sane.

"I went home with her."

"Sly fox! About time you got some."

"Yeah, shut up," Tom grunted, "the glass? Your ex?"

"Straight to business. You're no fun." Scarlett pouted, hoping off Tom's desk much to his relief.

"What do you want from it? Check for records? Or a DNA match to anyone in the database?"

"Anything she can get a hold of. I just- I need to know more about her."

"Ya know." Scarlett cracked the gum in her mouth, leaning against the door. "Usually when you want to get to know people, you take them on a date."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks Scar." Tom waved her away, moving back to his research.

There wasn't much online about you. No social media presence other than an old Facebook profile with pictures from your university graduation and the opening of your flower shop.

Clicking through your friends, he couldn't find people that could've been your parents. Strange, but then again, lots of older people didn't have Facebook.

He found the website for Daisy's Florals, the only phone number he had for you.

His palms were already clammy as he dialed the number.

What should he say? What could he say?

"Sorry I freaked out last night. Do you want to go out to dinner? No, no," Tom sighed, "Look, I shouldn't have kicked you out. I just got scared and- no. Fuck."