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"Jesus fucking Christ! What are you doing here, Tom?" Polly screeched when Tommy stumbled into 6 Watery Lane looking like he had just crawled out of his own grave.
You immediately came around the table where you had been packing a small dinner meal to take to him at the hospital. The place where you had left him less than two hours ago. You had been at his bedside ever since he had been brought to the hospital, found by the coppers, severely beaten and almost dying as he bled out near his parked car. The doctors and nurses tried to persuade you to leave many times but you adamantly refused. Laying in that bed, beaten and battered by Sabini's men, was your husband. You would be damned if you left him alone.
And when he finally opened those blue eyes, glassy from pain and medication given to him, you felt your heart restart in your chest, as if seeing him conscious was the key to keeping your own heart beating.
Hours later, he finally convinced you to leave, complaining that hospital food did not actually count as food and he had suffered better meals while in the tunnels. With a roll of your eyes, you agreed to stop at your home on Watery Lane and bring him back an actual meal. You also knew it would not hurt for you to freshen yourself up. You were certain your eyes were still red-rimmed and whatever make-up you once wore was long gone or in streaks on your cheeks. Also a change of attire would not be unappreciated.
At this moment, he was supposed to still be at the hospital. He promised he would be there when you returned, that he would rest. An inkling of dread slipped into your mind as you crossed the floor towards him, a suspicion of what could have caused him to leave far too early.
Tommy stood in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning far more heavily against the doorframe than normal. "There's work to be done, Pol."
"Bloody men don't know how to rest. Jesus! I should take the strap to you for being so bloody foolish!" Polly continued on her verbal tirade, dropping back into her seat after the shock of seeing a barely-healed Tommy passed and irritation replaced it.
Tommy ignored his aunt as you came to his side, your face upturned to stare into his endless blue eyes. "I'm alright." He spoke just above a whisper, words meant for you alone.
"No you aren't." You whispered back.
His lips twitched in a barely-there smile. His free hand lifted to stroke a thumb over your cheekbone while his other arm was wrapped firmly around his torso like it was the only thing holding him together. You grasped his hand, pressing the palm of it against your cheek as you took in the sight before you. The cuts and scrapes that colored his face. The black eye that even now looked painful. You knew underneath his clothes were even more injuries - bruises, cuts and broken bones - even if you could not see them. You had heard the doctors. You knew how bad it was. Yet here he stood before you, against all odds.
You were uncertain if you wanted to kiss him or smack him like a disobedient child for leaving the hospital.
After tracing over his face, your eyes finally crept up to meet his own. Then as if gravity itself pined you there, your eyes became locked in his haunted gaze. You briefly wondered if you could ever pull away, or if you even wanted to.
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and that was never more true than with Tommy. You had watched his mouth move as he wove stories and painted pictures with his words to inspire or threaten others. You had witnessed lies spill from his lips as easily as if they were truth. You had watched his hands as he blinded a man with his peaked cap for being a snitch to the coppers. But it was his eyes….those fathomless blue orbs that you could always turn to and know what he was truly feeling. Even if his mouth and body posture indicated otherwise.
And in this moment, his eyes told you everything you needed to know.
Although he wore a strained variation of his typical cool indifference, you could see the pain he tried to conceal behind it. It was in the twitch of his eyes, the slightly more unfocused look than normal. If his body posture had not already alluded to the pain he carried, his eyes certainly would. But it was what else you saw there that gave you pause. Behind the pain was a grim determination that was a cornerstone in Tommy's life. A trait that helped him survive everything thrown his way and to become the king of Birmingham that he was today. But what mingled with that determination though, what gave you pause, was the fear. And it was that fear that sang of more than what Tommy could ever verbally express.
"Okay, Tommy." You breathed out, eyes still locked on his.
And with those two simple words, you could see the relief come sweeping in like a strong wind. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to yours, his hand still pressed against your cheek. You breathed in deeply, letting the scent, the presence, the reassurance that Tommy was here, that for the moment, he was safe filled your soul and drained some of the worry. With the way Tommy also inhaled, like you were the very drug that kept him going, you knew he was reassuring himself of your safety also.
"Are you two done yet with your mind reading?" Polly snapped. "I swear, if it weren't for the rest of us, the two of you would bloody well never speak."
The rumble of amusement in Tommy's chest reverberated against your own. A smile lit up your own face at Polly's comment. A sentiment that had been repeated on several occasions by various Shelbys and had become somewhat of a running joke. Though, Polly grumbled about it just as much as she teased. For however much you could look into Tommy's eyes and just know , he was able to reciprocate the action.
Ever since that first time you found yourself lost in his gaze across the floor in the Garrison, the intensity of his eyes making your heart both race and skip a beat simultaneously, there had been a connection neither of you could explain. Somehow in that first look, you could see past the iron curtain Tommy surrounded his thoughts with. You bore witness to the loneliness, the emotional pain, the regrets, the weighty responsibility he shouldered, and it called to you like a lighthouse guiding a wayward ship. Before you even realized it, you had left your friends, walked across the pub floor and came to his side.
"Can I get you a drink?" He had asked in that deep timbre of his voice.
"Only if I can buy you one tomorrow."
He chuckled, rolling a cigarette over his bottom lip. "That can be arranged."
And as they say, everything after that was history.
Now you looked over your shoulder at Polly, who stood beside the table with her arms crossed and a cigarette between her fingers, a stern look firmly in place. "I've got it, Polly."
Polly opened her mouth to argue but then as if on second thought, stuck the cigarette in her mouth and inhaled deeply.
"I have to go to London. Tonight. I came to let you know." Tommy announced, letting his hand drop to your waist as he looked at his aunt.
"Is this about the bloody telegram from the Mad Baker?"
"Yeah, it's just business, Pol."
"You need to be in that hospital, Tommy!" Polly tried to argue with him, worry intermingling with her frustration. "You'll never make it to London alive in this state!"
"I'm a sitting duck there. Sabini could send someone at any time. It's best I go to London." Tommy tried to breathe deeply, most likely a detailed rebuttal on his tongue. Instead his eyes slammed shut as he hissed in pain. You gently stroked his arm, waiting for the wave of pain to reside. Silently, he squeezed your waist in thanks before opening his eyes and continuing speaking. "Pol, you're in charge while I'm gone, eh?"
"Tommy?"
He turned his sharp gaze down to you at your murmur. He answered your unspoken question, hints of regret tainting each word. "I have to get to Charlie's….but I couldn't leave….without seeing you."
The sting of welling tears caused you to blink rapidly, trying to force them away. Tommy's grip tightened marginally on you, drawing you closer fractionally as if that alone would reassure you, but he made no other indication of seeing your tears.
He looked back at Polly, "When I get back, there's to be a family meeting. Tell Arthur and John….and I'll need–"
You cut him off. "Tomorrow." At his pause and narrowed gaze, you continued. "You're leaving for London tomorrow. Anything else you need done during your absence, you can tell us tomorrow morning."
"No, it needs to happen–"
"When you're rested and not about to topple over like a tree." You interrupted once again. The way his jaw tightened, you knew he was not pleased with the continued interruptions but this was something worth a potential fight over. When he made no further move to argue, you looked back over at Polly. "Can you tell them, please?"
Thankfully, Polly took the hint. "They should still be at the Garrison by now. I'll lock up the shop then find them." Giving Tommy one more scrutinizing glance, she walked through the green doors with her head held high, like a queen in her domain, then shut the doors behind her.
Before Tommy could protest, you turned back to stare up at him, beseeching him with your eyes. "You know I will support you in whatever you want to do. I have always stood faithfully by your side, and I plan to continue so. I promise. But right now, I need you to first take care of yourself. Seeing you in that hospital bed…." Your breath hitched in your throat, your voice came out more strangled than you liked. "Please, Tommy."
"I don't have time." He argued, seeming on the verge of drawing away from you, of ignoring your plea, determined in his own actions and thinking they were the best for everyone.
"Love, I saw Campbell when I was walking out of the hospital." You confessed and if the faint wince he could not quite mask explained anything, you had hit the nail on the head with your assumption. Of why he vacated the hospital so quickly. Of whom he was actually worried about finding him again when he was so vulnerable.
Mindful of his injuries, you reached up to cup his cheek, keeping those stunning blue orbs locked on you. "I don't know what he said to you but you can't fight him and win when you can barely stand up on your own. Tommy, listen, come lay down. Rest. Let's start making a plan tomorrow, yeah? Just give me one more day of you recovering. I almost lost you. I can't….you could have died! And I wasn't there." A traitorous tear slid down your cheek, the cage for your turbulent emotions breaking under the weight of your worry and fear. "I refuse to let you die due to your own stubbornness."
He chuckled softly, pressing his forehead against yours again as if drawing strength from your promity. "I thought you liked my stubbornness, eh?"
"It's flattering on occasions." You quipped.
"Will you...." He stopped and licked his lips as if the rest of his question was stuck there. But you could hear it in the tone of his voice, feel it in how his hand clutched at you just a little tighter, almost taste it in the air with how he struggled to express it. To allow vulnerability to bleed and simply ask for help. Even with the trust between you two.
You tipped your head back to look into his eyes, to see what words failed to pass his lips, to read there what he was so desperate to say but could not.
Tears renewed and your heart ached when you finally saw it. What he could not say but needed you to know - "I don't want to be alone." You could hear his unspoken words echo in your mind, stronger than if he uttered them aloud. Words passed from his soul directly to yours.
"You know," you said sniffling, once it no longer felt like your chest was painfully constrained by emotions, "I'm suddenly feeling quite fatigued. Care to keep me company while I'm resting?"
The first true smile you had seen on his face all day shined through like the sun after a terrible storm. He bumped his nose lightly against yours, relief bleeding through his actions. "If you insist."
"Oh, I most certainly insist."
"Then how can I deny you?"
"Wise words, my love. I think you're starting to figure out this marriage thing."
You snickered as he playfully rolled his eyes. Taking his hand in yours, you helped guide him slowly up the nearby stairs. Never a comment passed your lips as you watched him struggle, fighting to hide the discomfort each step brought with it. Instead you rambled about anything you could think of to distract his ever racing mind from the pain.
Up the stairs, he followed you to your shared bedroom. The small, rickety cot once in Tommy's room had been replaced by a sturdier double bed. You had jokingly added it as part of your condition for you to accept his marriage proposal. He agreed immediately and the next day his prior cot was gone with the new bed taking up most of the room. Neither of you minded though. The extra space was needed for how much you two liked to play in that bed.
Carefully, you helped him to sit on the edge of the bed, his wince at the simple action not going unnoticed by you. Without a word, you knelt before him, uncaring of the potential dirt and wrinkles to your dress the action would cause. Humming quietly, you untied his shoes and carefully pulled his feet out of them. Then you helped him maneuver out of his jacket, going slow for each movement initiated pain he no longer tried to hide from you. Still humming, you laid it on a nearby chair that barely fit into the space it had been assigned. His suspenders and shirt came off next. You tried to ignore the many bruises and lacerations decorating his body in a painting of pain and extensive wrapping around his torso for the broken bones.
Only clad in his trousers, wrappings and socks, he finally laid down on the bed, muttering something about 'fuckin' uncomfortable hospital beds' and 'more useless than an army cot'. You just smiled as you listened to him grumble, pretending you had not heard his ranting.
With the utmost care, you helped him settle on the bed, a relieved groan escaping his lips. When his eyes drifted to the side table, smooshed between the bed and the wall, you reached into the drawer and pulled out the pistol he kept there. Knowing what he needed, you placed it on top of the table, within easy reach for Tommy. His responding smile relieved some of the coiling vines constricting your chest.
"What can I get for you, Tommy? Some medicine for the pain? A cool cloth? Another pillow?"
"Just you, love. It's always been just you I needed, yeah?"
"I'm serious, Tommy." A bashful smile tilted your lips up at his statement. He was certainly not the most poetic or flowery with his declarations of love. But you knew when he said something, he meant it. "How can I help?"
"So am I." Those blue eyes scanned over you, a searing heat flaring in them that was full of wicked intentions. "I need me wife."
You shook your head even as you chuckled. "Tommy, you have far too many broken bones for anything like that to happen." Even more broken than a shattered teapot, he still could not contain his lust for you. Any other day you would never deny his passion, for it breathed equally of devilish sin and heavenly adoration.
He smirked in that way that made a fire ignite in your womb. "Worth a try."
You scoffed, grabbing his shirt and neatly folding it. You needed a moment to dampen the heat coursing through you at the images that smirk alone placed in your mind.
"Come lay down." He patted the space next to him on the bed.
Planting your hands on your hips, you glanced between your husband and the closed door. A thousand stinging thoughts swarmed through your mind as you debated what to do next. The food you packed for him still waited on the kitchen counter, probably spoiling if you left it out for much longer. Also, no matter what Tommy said, you knew some pain relief would be welcome in the future. It would be wise for you to go ahead and grab some, leaving it on the side table next to his gun for whenever he gave in. Charlie Strong would also appreciate a heads up about Tommy wishing to go to London, taking a barge and most likely Curly with him. Knowing your husband, he would show up and demand from his uncle instead of asking like he should.
Then there was dealing with Polly, Arthur and John who would all be worried and frustrated with Tommy, and rightly so. Peeking at the gun on the side table, did not help alleviate any of your worries either. If he was this paranoid that one of Sabini's men or even someone sent by the Inspector would make it up to your bedroom….you resolved yourself to meet them at the door and kindly persuade them to leave your husband the fuck alone. Polly and you kept a spare pistol above the stove that the boys did not know about, since they never stepped foot into the kitchen as if being in close proximity would somehow force them to cook. Not that anyone wanted to eat their cooking anyway.
"Please?"
And with that single word, all your thoughts and plans scattered to the wind. For how much Tommy complained that he could never deny you, you were no better. Especially when he allowed his vulnerability to slip through, when he softly pleaded since that would be the closest you would ever hear Tommy beg . He would turn those stormy blue eyes on you and it was all you could do to rise above the trance they would put you in. You were putty in the man's hand, just as much as he was in yours.
With nimble fingers, you quickly unbuttoned your dress, ignoring your husband's heated gaze. You draped the dress on the chair alongside Tommy's discarded clothing. The image of seeing your clothing laying next to his always set a warmth burning in your heart. The domestic simplicity of such an image, but full of potential meaning.
Standing there in just your slip, you turned back to him with a knowing look. "Behave."
He winked with his one good eye.
You chuckled as you climbed into the double bed, careful of rocking it too much and disturbing him. Settling onto your side, you watched him like a hawk for any pain, ready to move at a moment's notice. Because you were not above dragging him back to the hospital and sitting next to him with a loaded pistol so he would rest.
If that loaded pistol was to protect Tommy or threaten to shoot him if he got out of the bed again was debatable.
Now with you beside him, Tommy stared at the ceiling clearly deep in thought. Only the steady rise and fall of his chest and the occasional slow blink of his eyelashes indicated he was breathing and conscious. Your hand found his amongst the sheets, threading your fingers together, the way they should always be.
After several peaceful minutes of stillness, Tommy spoke, his smooth voice just above a whisper. As if fearful or ashamed of his words but unable to keep them locked behind his teeth any longer.
"I was worried I'd never see your face again. Or hear you say me name." His Brummie accent thickened with the strained emotion bleeding through. "I can't....it was you. All I could think of was you as they left me bleedin' out. How I promised I'd never leave you."
Immediately you leaned up on your elbow, needing to see his face, needing him to hear you and understand your words. "Tommy love, listen to me. If you die before I do, all you have to do is find a bench wherever you are. Be it heaven or hell or whatever lies between. Find that bench, light a cigarette and wait. I'll find you. Okay? Death is too small a divider to separate us. Our love is eternal."
He lifted your entwined hands, placing a sweet kiss to the back of your hand before laying them on his chest. "What did I do to deserve you? You're too good for me."
"You gave me your heart."
"Whatever's left of the bloody thing."
"No, it's more than that. Don't you see? You gave me your heart....and your trust. You've never given me a reason to doubt you, Tommy. It's not about deserving. It's about choosing. And we chose one another….in this life and the next. That's what makes our love eternal."
"In this life and the next, eh?" He repeated, something akin to awe and utter devotion in his eyes as he looked at you as if drinking you in, as if you were the healing tonic for his heart and mind.
Your own love swelled within your chest as you gazed down at the man you refused to live without. "Yes." You replied then lightly poked his chest. "Don't think you can get away from me so easily."
"Never, my love."
You leaned forward, your lips answering the summon from his own. Compared to other kisses, this one was rather chaste. A gentle brushing of lips, a soft reassurance and an unspoken promise. Yet it still made you melt against him with the pure magic that his lips and mouth were. With stars in your eyes, you finally pulled away, having to remind yourself that he was severely injured and now was not the time for lovemaking. Even if it was obvious you both wanted to.
You plucked one more quick kiss from his decadent mouth before settling back on the bed. "Rest, Tommy. Tomorrow you can conquer the world."
With carefully measured movements, Tommy shifted to lay his head on your chest. Once he was still, you began carding your fingers through the longer strands of his hair, reveling in their silky texture. With the slow, repetitive action, it did not take long for Tommy to drift to sleep, the sudden weight of his body slumping against yours was sign enough, followed by his soft snoring.
As you listened to his breathing and snores, you hoped that tonight, even if it was only tonight, that he was able to rest . That the worries, plans and demons that stole his peace would fade away. Even if only for tonight.
You swore to yourself long ago to be the protector of his heart, his shield towards the things that haunt his waking steps and his nightmares. For no matter what troublesome storm brewed or where your souls ended up, you would remain by his side. Never to abandon him.
In this life and the next.