Work Text:
"You're insane if you decide to go through with it."
Your brain ran at intense speed, dissecting arguments from both sides, so hard that your head began to hurt.
Your husband watched you from under his long lashes, a pen in hand, having just been interrupted by you. He was spotless; dressed in a tailored dark suit with a waistcoat to match. The pocket watch was nearly tucked in his suit. Your husband didn't appear to be in distress.
The same couldn't be said for you.
"I didn't know you had a say in it," he stated as a matter of fact, glancing at your palms that were parked on his desk.
"I will not," you said through gritted teeth. "Sit meekly in the fucking garden and watch over the kids and pretend like you're not walking straight into a trap."
"Y/N—"
"For fuck's sake Thomas," you fumed, not believing your ears. His pride and stubbornness became a new thick layer of skin on his body, one not many could break through. "Can't you see? That damned Italian will have your head before you even walk through the door. He can't be trusted!"
Your husband glanced at the clock on the wall and you turned your head to look. "Darling no, please..."
"It's time."
"You're not hearing yourself," you tried to reason as you walked around the desk to trap him in your arms. "What will I tell the kids Tommy, huh? The fuck am I supposed to tell them?! That their father walked knowingly into a death trap and got himself fucking killed?"
His blue eyes withheld thunderstorms, you saw, and the wheels in his head were turning and running like a mechanical system. Tommy was thinking. Mulling over your warnings in his head.
Your husband was as intimidating as ever, with a blank face clear of any emotions. Any indicators of fear and apprehension were wiped off. Nonexistent.
He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you fiercely, sharing with you whatever he couldn't with words.
And left you alone in the office a second later.
"Fuck Tommy. You're an idiot."
***
The day was nice for once. White clouds dotted the sky, shielding the sun a few times every few minutes. Flowers seemed to spark with new unseen color, having had enough of water from the rains to bloom.
The youngest of your children played on the blanked you laid out on the grass for them, chucking trains and dolls all over it.
"Mummy where is dad?"
The boy standing next to you had innocent curiosity wrapped around his voice. Your eldest son has outgrown the playing on the picnic blanket, and was standing next to you on the cobblestone path. He was also just about old enough to realize some things, yet he still didn't quite grasp them.
And you were glad.
You turned your head to look at him and found him already staring up at you, a small hand just over his eyes to act as a shield against the scorching sun of the mid-afternoon.
Your hand was softly brushed against his hair, "Your father had to attend some business in the city. He'll be home for dinner."
If he makes it out alive.
Dammit Thomas.
"Is the business dangerous?" Your son asked with sad eyes.
You felt your heart sink as you kneeled down despite your dress and shoes. You grabbed his hands, ones he was fidgeting with nervously. With your other hand you had grasped his chin under your index finger and brought his face up to look at you bravely.
"Business can be dangerous honey, yes, it can," you admitted quietly, hating the way his eyes filled with tears. "But your father is the smartest man I know, all right? He would never, ever, do anything that would make him not be able to see you or your siblings, hm? Okay? Honey look at me—"
"Mrs. Shelby?" Came a voice from the terrace, stopping the flood of words you were about to share. "Mr. Shelby has returned."
Already?
Your son beamed, and you couldn't help but feel relief when you saw his lips stretch out into a million dollar smile. He raced toward the house, and you had to yell out for him to be careful.
With the maid in charge to take care of the younger children, ones that have yet to understand what was going on around them, you walked into the home you left anxious and nervous ever since you told Tommy he was walking into his death trap.
***
"What are you doing here?"
Your voice was meek, a whisper in the air. There was a part of you that still couldn't believe who stood before you, more so because the business he wanted to do was planned to take a lot longer than an hour.
Tommy opened his arms as to share with you the obvious, and you ignored the sarcasm and ran toward him. His body was warm, and he smelled of his usual masculine scent, and you couldn't help but bury your head in his chest. "You listened. Thank God you listened..."
"The coppers told me he placed men around the Harbor. I couldn't get through without a bullet in my head. Too risky," he explained quietly, pulling away to look into your teary eyes. His blue irises were piercing and thankful. "You were right."
"I just want what's best for you Tommy," you told him quietly. "And walking head first into danger without thinking isn't the way."
The Shelby nodded in understanding, and pulled you into him once again. "Never do anything without my permission anymore."
He chuckled at your muffled, yet firm, strict and determined voice. Your husband found himself nodding and agreeing to it, an act he wouldn't have ever done before.
But before was in the past, he realised, because now in the present he had a wife and children.
And nothing came before them.
"I'll never leave again, hm?"