Chapter Text
November 30th 1918
Tommy sat, taking in the quiet of the night. He knew not what time it was, he knew only that the dark outside seemed all consuming. It felt like a self reflection. It felt as if all he was was darkness, was black, was empty of any good, of any light. Who had he been before, he could hardly remember. The memory of that boy was drowned with gun fire, with blood and gun shots and screaming. He felt as if that was a stranger, but did he not feel a stranger now? Was he not an imposter now?
He wonders if he was supposed to die in that tunnel, perhaps that’s why the world now feels as it does. Perhaps that’s why it feels empty, feels void and meaningless. He sighed, pulling a cigarette from his coat pocket and rubbing it against his bottom lip, his eyes drifting to his window and focusing on a specific spot. The few street lamps that dotted the street were enough that he could see the outline of the apartment and its windows. There were no lights in the windows, no candles lit.
Of course not ,why would there be?
He exhaled a breath of smoke, his eyes focusing on the upstairs window. He knew it was opened just a crack, she hated being too hot when she slept but she feared opening it more in case someone dared to climb through it to rob her or worse.
“This town is full of degenerates and criminals and I’m not stupid, Thomas.”
The memory washed over him and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to be lost.
“I would never dare to call you stupid, love, but perhaps a little too much in your own head, yeah. No one is going to break into your home from the fucking upper window. No one is going to bring a ladder to a robbery.”
“You don’t know that, Tommy. They could bring a ladder, or perhaps be able to jump really, really high.”
He blinked, wetting his lips to suppress a laugh.
“Don’t you laugh at me Thomas Shelby.” The annoyance dripped from her voice and her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
The sight broke him and a chuckle rumbled through his chest, closing the space between them and cupping her face. His thumbs rubbing gentle circles against her cheeks. He adored her, he loved her more than anything and he knew it was obvious. She was like oxygen for him, without her he’d be lost. He gently turned her face up towards him.
“No one would dare because everyone in this town knows you’re my girl. Everyone in this fucking town knows I’d kill ‘em, yeah, if they hurt you. Cut ‘em from cheek to cheek, ear to ear.”
She took a deep breath, melting into his touch for a moment. “But what if someone comes in from out of town?”
“What if there’s an out of town burglar that has brought a ladder or can jump really, really high and breaks in through your window?”
“Yes.”
“Then scream really loud and I’ll be there. Or,” he moved his hands to her waist and pulled her closer to him, “maybe I should stay over more so I can protect you, yeah.” He pressed a kiss to her neck.
He could still taste the salt of her skin on his lips, the smell of her hair, the softness of her skin. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smoke, letting it fill his lungs before exhaling. The smoke clouded his vision for a moment, when it cleared he saw the small flicker of a lamp being lit. She was awake. He wondered why, he wondered what could wake her this late. Or perhaps it was early, perhaps she was getting ready for work. He ignored the clock on the mantle, he didn’t want the answer.
If she was awake, and it wasn’t to get ready for work, he knew she was sitting in her chair with a book in her lap. He could see it now, her wiry curls falling down her shoulders or hastily tied up with a ribbon, her legs crossed, sometimes with her cat nuzzled between the chair and her leg.
God, he fucking hated Edgar.
That cat scratched his arms so bad he still had scars up and down his arms. He would stick to horses. He blew out another lung full of smoke. Another memory flooding his mind.
The light in her room usually went out at 9 and was never on later than 10, but it was now half past 12 and still the lamp burned in her window. Tommy couldn’t help but wonder the reason as to why. His reason for being up at this hour was dressing herself to leave. He couldn’t remember what she said her name was, some girl who had caught his attention while drinking with his brother but she was only to keep his bed warm and his balls empty and the feeling was mutual. The girl across the street, Dottie, she was something different. Tommy wouldn’t say he was courting her , not yet, but he had made his interest known. He was obviously quiet taken with her, she was intelligent and independent. She had never been afraid to speak her mind to him. A good Catholic girl, too. Being around her was intoxicating.
“Will I see you later?” He was taken from his thoughts by the woman’s voice, his eyes tearing from the lamp across the street.
“If you want, yeah.” He reached into his pockets and pulled out a crisp bill. “It was a good time.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead as he placed the bill in her hand.
He watched her leave out the window, his eyes torn between her form and the light in the window, waiting for the woman to turn down another street before he hastily buttoned his shirt and rushed out the door, not bothering to put shoes on as he rushed down the steps and out the door.
He stood in street, looking up at the window, not quiet knowing how to get her attention. Tommy reached and picked up a few lose stones, throwing one at the window, then another, and another, and another, until…
“What in the ….OW!” Dottie was leaning out of her window, her palm pressed into her eye. “What is wrong with you?!” She whisper yelled down to him.
He smirked up at her, she looked beautiful with her hair down and in her white night gown. He would like to see her in white again, he thought to himself. “You’re awake.”
“I could be blind.”
“But you’re awake.”
“…Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked down at him in an exasperated silence, “Because sleep evades me. Why do you care?”
“You have to go to the shop tomorrow, yeah. It would do me mind better to know you’re not going into work sleep deprived.”
Dottie sighed, eyeing him for a moment. She knew of his interest in her, she had indulged in his flirtations a few times and she enjoyed his attention and company. He knew this, he knew her sour mood came from her lack of sleep and annoyance of getting hit in the face with a small stone.
“I do not know why I cannot sleep, just that I cannot.” She answered back.
“Well, let me help you.”
She blinked, brow furrowed. “Excuse me? What are youn insinuating?”
“Nothing ungentlemanly, I promise. You will not need to see Father Thomas in the morning for confession.” And he meant it. He may desire her but he did not desire to take her to bed or to bring up the matter if she was not the first to instigate it.
She started at him, tongue peaking out to wet her lip as she thought. She sucked her teeth, before nodding. “This is a bad idea,” her voice was soft enough that he could barley here her.
“I’ll let you in the door.”
It was that night that he met Edgar, that night that Edgar has scratched the fuck out of his arm. He remembered how she felt in his arms, his fingers running through her hair and inhaling her scent. He had read some book to her, he couldn’t remember which, he was too distracted by the feel of her to pay attention to what he the words he was reading. He thinks it was that moment that he decided she would be his wife one day.
That battlefield in France changed him, though. The tunnel with the Germans destroyed any hope for a future with her. He was broken, his head full of smoke and gunfire. She was still his girl and what kind of man would he be to subject the woman he loved to a life full of him?
Thomas watched the light of the lamp flicker and fade. He needed something stronger than a cigarette if he was ever to get a semblance of sleep.
~
Dottie lay in her bed, staring through her window as the first rays of sunlight filtered through. Her suitcases were packed, ready for the train journey to London. She wasn’t going to stay in Small Heath, there was barely anything for her stay for. Things had changed and she knew if she stayed, so would she. Her ambitions, her desires, they would fade as she was forced into the darkness that was now filling her home. Perhaps it was selfish, she knew it was selfish, but going to London was the only out she saw for herself. She’d found a job working as a personal assistant to the owner of a Jewish bakery and she’d gotten accepted into one of the colleges in the city.
Of course, she was accepted on the pretense she was a male but that was a bridge she would cross when she got there. She had been accepted based on her own merits and that is what mattered. Dottie had dreamed of this all her life, to go to school and to learn. To Travel. To show the world what women could be. To be self reliant. The flames of his desire were fanned by Tommy’s rejection of her, of his abrupt ending of their courtship with only a letter while fighting in France. Part of her understood that war changed men, her brother Danny came back a different man and David hadn’t come back at all.
Another part of her, a petty part of her, wanted to show Tommy that she didn’t need him, that she would be able to go on without him, and that there was nothing he could do for that she couldn’t accomplish herself . She had given so much for him and lost so much in return. A sigh passed through her lips, her eyes focusing on the pile of items on her nightstand. There were a few pictures, a locket, old tickets for the picture house, and a bundle of letters. The relics of what used to be and she didn’t know if she needed to take them with her. What was the point?
But if she left them, her father would surely be rid of them and she didn’t think she could live with that.
Before she could stop herself, she padded across the room and grabbed a shirt from her suitcase, wrapping the belongings in it and sat them next to a baby blanket and rattle. Memories of what could of been, memories of what she had lost. Memories she could let go and memories that fueled her even more.
Dottie Owens was not a quitter and she would not be driven to ruin because a boy couldn’t love her right.
Everything moved in a blur the rest of the morning, she couldn’t remember eating breakfast or packing her belongings and Edgar onto a cart to be taken to the train station. But she knew she did, it didn’t seem real that it was all finally happening. She looked around at the smoke billowing into the sky, the brick of the apartments. As much as it was suffocating, it was her home. She spent her life here, playing in the streets or reading on the steps. She worked at the only bookshop in the city, she walked these streets everyday and knew its people. The people in London would be different, it would be a new adventure that she was looking forward to but it all felt bittersweet.
Her eyes landed on him as he stood in his doorway, he was adjusting his cap and the morning sun reflected off the metal of the razor sewn into the brim. She rarely saw him in the weeks since he came home, he had ignored her when all the soldiers got off the train and after that she did her best to avoid him but now she took in the sight of Thomas Shelby because she didn’t know when she’d see him again. She had no intention of staying in London forever, of course, someone had to make sure that Mother was well taken care of and Danny was concerning her as his behavior became more and more erratic. But in those return trips home, she knew she would avoid seeing him again if she could.
It wasn’t long before striking blue eyes found her warm green ones. They looked at each other for a moment, the air becoming thick as if all their memories were filling the street and the history they shared washed over her. She would not cry, not here, she had already wasted too many tears on him. There was a small flicker of something in his eyes, something that resembled softness but it was flash before he became stone faced once more and turned away from her.
“Goodbye Tommy.”
~
Tommy’s fingers tapped against the table, tracing the butt of a cigarette against his lips. It would take a while to get used to this life again, but he would in time, his eyes stared at the chalkboard where they tracked their gambling bets. This had the capability to make them a lot of money, he knew, if only he played his cards right and looked for the right opportunity to strike. He barely noticed the sounds of his brothers and Aunt Polly entering the room with him, the sound of their voices drowned by his thoughts to a dull mumble.
It was only when Finn pushed through the door, breathing heavily and calling his name that he snapped from his thoughts.
“Tommy, Tommy. I saw her,” Finn was panting from how fast he had run, Tommy furrowed his eyebrows in concern as he kneeled in front of his youngest brother.
“What are you talking about, Finn?” Aunt Polly was the first one to speak.
“Dottie Owens. She got on a train with all her things, bound for London. She’s gonna go to one of those fancy schools in the city. That’s what her brother said.”
Tommy stood up, staring at his brother for a moment. A loud ringing filled his ears and the world around him faded away. He closed his eyes and quickly regained his composure. He wouldn’t show weakness in the moment. He couldn’t.
“She’s done good for herself getting out of this fucking shithole,” Tommy spoke, ruffling his brothers hair.
Polly watched him, he could feel her eyes on him and he knew she was waiting for a bigger reaction or for some sign of what he was feeling. His aunt had loved Dottie, had wanted her to join the family more than anything and he was grateful that Polly had been there for Dottie when she had needed it. He looked over at her, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m fine.”
“You fucking won’t be, mate,” John spoke, patting his brother shoulder.
The rest of the day passed without incident but that night, when there was no light in the window across the street, Tommy couldn’t contain his feelings of anger, of regret, of self loathing. When the morning light drifted through the windows, he had gotten no sleep. A hole in the wall and several broken pictures were the reminders of his feelings the night before but a new feeling crept into his chest.
“She fucking did it,” he mumbled softly, shaking his head. He had never had a doubt that she would accomplish whatever she set her mind too and there was no one he knew with a more brilliant mind or quicker wit. Of course she’d gotten into a college. “My girl fucking did it.”
And when Dottie got to London, she found an anonymous donor had paid for a years worth of tuition on her behalf.