Work Text:
Zoe slouched up to the front door of Frankie's house at the end of a gruelling day, and knocked. She could have gone through her bag for the key she had owned for some months now, but emotional exhaustion had become physical some hours previously, and her limbs were feeling slightly less than functional. Luckily, the door opened almost instantly.
"Gosh, knocking! That's a new one!" Frankie grinned, moving aside and allowing Zoe to stumble into the hallway. "I gave you the key to save on broken windows, but if you're going to start knocking I suppose I needn't have bothered!"
She was teasing, of course, but it was still a soft spot for Zoe. Frankie sensed her tension and pulled her close for a tender hug.
"Anyway," she continued, releasing Zoe's limp frame and looking her up and down; taking in her baggy eyes and hunched shoulders. Her voice softened.
"How was your day?"
"Long," Zoe huffed in response. "I've been trying to sort out a care package for Ms Stewart but, what with her ridiculously vague work history, and the god-awful record keeping of her last Doctor... I'm just not sure what I can do for her." She sank into the warm depths of the sofa as Frankie busied herself in the kitchen, putting on a pot of tea.
"Hang on," Frankie paused, abandoning the teapot and coming to stand in the doorway. "Why are you so worried about this - surely it's down to her to provide those sorts of records."
Zoe ran her hands through her hair; pressed on her temples in a vain attempt to soothe the dull ache beneath.
"I just felt... responsible for her. She's not got very good memory herself; keeps talking about Silence but there's no sign of deafness and... I don't know. I'm just trying to-"
"So much for not getting involved!" Frankie interrupted. "Not really your style, is it?"
Zoe raised her head and rolled her eyes in exaggerated mockery. Frankie always did seem to feel as though she had a monopoly on caring. When she replied, her voice had an edge of anger she hadn't entirely intended to express.
"I do my best for every patient, I'll have you know. I'm just a little more bound by the rules than you."
Frankie, having completely forgotten about the teapot by this point, moved further into the room. She knelt on the floor in front of the sagging sofa, placing herself directly in Zoe's dipped eyeline, and rested her arms gently across Zoe's slender thighs.
"Zoe? I didn't mean it like that," she murmured reassuringly. "I know how hard you work, how much you do for your patients." Zoe met her gaze; brown eyes locked in mutual tenderness and fragility.
"I only meant... is there anything I can do to help?"
Zoe smiled, felt her shoulders loosen and relax. She picked up one of the hands resting on her lap and fiddled absent-mindedly with an index finger.
"What sort of assistance might you be putting on offer, oh devious one?" she smirked. Frankie's eyes twinkled; Zoe knew her too well.
"Well, we all know how good I am at circumventing regulations, Dr. Evans... Promise not to report me this time?"