Work Text:
Lizzie paced the nursery in her silk nightie trying to settle Ruby back to sleep, but the baby wasn't having any part of it. Her wails echoed the wing and frazzled Lizzie's brain as she hushed and bounced the unhappy baby. Thomas was away again, and she hoped Charlie hadn't woken from the screams.
“Ma'am–” Mary said, slipping through the door.
“I told you, I can handle it,” Lizzie said impatiently as she continued to pace and bounce. “Thank you.”
“It's not that, ma'am,” Mary said, wringing her hands. “There's a man at the door. John Shelby. He's refusing to leave.”
“John?” Lizzie asked, bouncing the baby as she walked to the door. “Tommy's not here.”
“We told him, ma'am,” Mary said, following behind her. “He won't leave. It's mighty improper at this hour.”
Lizzie carried the wailing child through the house to the front to see John running around the fountain, two staff chasing him as he cursed and wobbled. John's car headlights illuminated the entire scene, door open as if he bailed out of it still running.
“Fucking off me, cunts!” John slurred, turning around to deck one of the men. The other grabbed his arm and yanked him to the ground, a string of curses following.
“Enough!” Lizzie yelled over the baby cries, the men all freezing in place.
“See?” John said, looking up at one of the men. “Fucking knew she was here.”
“It's alright, go back in the house and to bed.” Lizzie said, bouncing the yelling baby.
“But ma'am, Mr. Shelby isn't home,” Mary said, touching Lizzie's shoulder. “It's not proper to accept a man-”
“What will Mr. Shelby think if we refuse his brother while he's gone?” Lizzie said coldly. “Check on Charlie, then go to bed, Mary. Goodnight.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Mary said through thin lips.
John scrambled to his feet as the men left to go back inside. He snatched his cap off of his head, looking to her feet as he swayed in place.
“Liz, I-”
John's head snapped up as he realized Ruby hadn't calmed yet. He looked at Lizzie, holding onto a screeching Ruby, her hair disheveled and her eyes sunken into caverns. Her pale skin was sallow and dull as she gave him an impatient stare.
John stood tall, immediately sobered as he threw his hat to the ground and took steady steps to Lizzie, arms outstretched.
“Give ‘er here,” he said in a similar tone that she had heard Tommy speak to horses.
Lizzie handed Ruby to John without thought, and John immediately went to rocking and hushing the baby, walking in circles around the fountain, illuminated by headlights.
Ruby's voice slowly quieted and calmed, until John was cooing a sleeping baby. Lizzie wrapped her arms around her chest as a breeze reminded her that she was only in a silk shift dress for bed. John came back, stopping in front of Lizzie as he continued to rock Ruby.
“She's beautiful, Liz,” he said with a smile. “Pol was right, she'll be in pictures for sure.”
Lizzie watched, rubbing her arms as she shifted between feet and tears welled in her eyes.
“John, how did you-”
John's smile dropped as he shifted Ruby to touch Lizzie's arm.
“Oy, no, it's okay,” John hushed. “It's not you. It's not your fault. Babies feed off their mum, yeah? You're still healing and have all these new feelings, and she's feeding off of them. You both are feeding off each other and egging each other on. Sometimes an outside force can give you both a breath to help. That's all it is, Liz. Just a breath.”
“Why are you here, John?” Lizzie sniffled, rubbing her arms. “Thomas isn't home.”
John sighed, his eyes welling with tears as he cursed and looked down at Ruby.
“I really fucked it, Liz,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You're a girl. You can help. Help me make it right, Liz.”
John sniffed, pulling all his emotions back inside, tucked away in a little box, neat and tidy. Lizzie watched him closely as he pulled the mask back on, and she hated how much it reminded her of her husband.
“Let's get Ruby back to bed, yeah?” John said, sniffling again. “Then we can have a chat.”
Lizzie led John to the nursery, watching from the doorway as he placed her in her crib with such gentleness. He looked down on Ruby with such softness, Lizzie could feel her chest tighten as emotion bubbled within her. She silently wiped a tear before John turned back to her and she led him to the den.
John passed her and knelt to the fireplace to stoke the embers and throw another log on the fire, giving them a bit of light and warmth. Lizzie poured two glasses of whiskey before she sat on the edge of the sofa, holding John's glass out for him.
When the fire was to his liking, he turned to Lizzie and took his glass, downing it in one go.
“You can get another yourself if you're going to go through them like that,” Lizzie said with a smirk into her own glass.
“Yes ma'am,” John nodded, moving toward the whiskey.
John's swagger never left, but it was so easy for him to switch between cocky and polite. Unlike Tommy, his face flitted between every little emotion. After living with Tommy for so long, it felt almost offensive to be able to read every emotion, as if he was speaking every thought rather than leaving them in his head. Every nervous twitch, every hazy, lustful thought that crept through, only to be shaken away and guilt or hope replacing it. It was overwhelming, as if he was shouting at her.
“Talk, John,” Lizzie said. “Why are you here?”
John sighed.
“She left,” John said, voice breaking. “Took the kids, like she always threatened.”
John ran his hand over his mouth as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he looked into the fire.
“I don't even know how many days ahead of me she's got,” he said incredulously. “Been out of town. Didn't even fucking go home immediately. Went to the bar before. Came home to a shred of paper. ‘You chose.’ Two words, and they hurt like hell, Liz.”
Lizzie exhaled, shifting in her seat immediately wishing she had a cigarette.
“Fuck,” was all she said.
John gave a half hearted chuckle.
“Why aren't you chasing her?” Lizzie asked, twirling the amber liquid in her cup. “Why didn't you immediately run to the country side and drag her back?”
John broke his gaze of the fire to look at Lizzie.
Time is a funny thing when you have known someone for a long time. You see who they are, who they've been, and the in-between moments. Your mind fills in the spaces, the pauses, and pieces everything together.
Lizzie sat, straight back and proper in her silk nightgown, swirling her drink, white knuckles grasping her elbow, and a passive look on her face. The shadows under her eyes created black holes for John to look into. She was tired. Physically, but especially spiritually. Being so close to the damned will do that to you.
Shimmers of Lizzie flitted in the spaces between. Young. Still confident, but reckless about it. A slip of a girl that seemed earnest in her relationships with the men that were drawn to her. Broken, every last one, until they broke her, too.
John's gaze broke.
“I don't want to drag her, like Linda,” John said, brows bunched together. “Esme's right for leaving. But I want her back. You're here. With Tommy. You know this family better than anyone. Why haven't you ran?”
Lizzie scoffed.
“Shelbys don't believe in divorce,” she said bitterly.
“You had plenty of time to run, Liz,” John said. “Should have run when I proposed.”
“I never regretted telling you yes,” Lizzie hummed. “Plenty of regret on choices after.”
“You knew who we were, but you stayed around,” John pushed. “Hell, you kept Tommy's secrets for years before he had any right to ask you to.”
“And you kept following Tommy's orders long after you realized they were self-serving,” Lizzie bit back.
“That's why I need her, Liz,” John said, biting his lip as he looked away. “Esme, she's wild. She follows nothing but her heart and the wind. She reminds me to be more man than soldier. I need that.”
Lizzie sighed, tapping a finger on her glass as she stared at John. His eyes were earnest and clear, despite the alcohol.
The Shelbys might be brothers, but their blue eyes shone so differently. Tommy was cold. Calculating. Metal. You could see the cogs moving as he planned his every move. Arthur had the saddest eyes she had ever known. A sheet of ice that trapped the man within from getting to the surface for air. No wonder he calmed himself with drugs to ease the fight within. John, though, had no ice in his eyes. He felt full of life, like a refreshing bubbling spring on a hot day. All shimmer and refreshing.
“I once told your brother that you were twice the man he was,” Lizzie said, a slight warble in her voice. “Honestly, that was probably nicer to him than it should have been.”
John chuckled, looking back to Lizzie.
“Esme ran because you put Tommy first,” Lizzie said before taking another sip of her drink. “So put her first. She won't take anything less, John. She's stronger than most of us in that way.”
“But–”
“There's no but, John,” Lizzie said. “Tommy's put the illegal work behind him in most respects now that he's in parliament. Arthur can handle it. Take Esme and the kids and run. Tommy's already cut you out of most of it. You've felt his cold shoulder as much as I have over Grace.”
John gulped.
“He's no right to-”
“To take it out on the woman who's the reason he lost his wife?” Lizzie said bitterly. “We both know part of the reason he married me was to rub it in the Changretta family's face. You may have started the war by hurting Angel, but I'm the reason for the war in the first place.”
“I-”
“I have no interest in why, John,” Lizzie said, a tear in her eye. “The past is past, and we're where we are because of it, hmm? For a short while, I foolishly thought I could change him. But a Shelby doesn't change, do they? They only become more of themselves as they meet more and more death.”
Lizzie stood and cut the distance between them within a breath, placing a finger under his chin to lift his eyes to hers.
“You were always the best of them, John,” she whispered. “Follow her, and stay gone. Another brush with death and you might not return.”
“In the Bleak Midwinter,” John whispered solemnly.
“Let John Shelby die here, and you follow Esme,” Lizzie whispered as she let his chin go and sat beside him. “Be a father. Be a husband. Let the soldier die.”
“The world isn't what it once was,” Lizzie continued, leaning shoulder to shoulder. “And I don't see it getting better. The people Tommy are dealing with in parliament… it would be better to get away before it gets worse.”
“I'm not one to leave, Liz,” John rasped, laying his head on her shoulder. “This feels like deserting my family. Deserting you and Ruby.”
“You're choosing the family you created, John,” Lizzie said as she patted his knee. “If you want to see your children and Esme again, it's what has to be done.”
A wail echoed from down the hall.
“Ruby's hungry again,” Lizzie sighed as they reluctantly parted. “I'll need to feed her.”
“Let me get her,” John said as he stood up and held his hand out to help Lizzie stand. “To say goodbye.”
Lizzie smiled and gave a short nod as John turned to go to the nursery. She watched from the nursery doorway as John went in and picked up the fussy baby from the crib. He rocked and shushed her as she calmed for him.
Lizzie's smile grew brittle as she thought of the future that would never be. Ruby having John's blue eyes instead of Tommy's. The peace of sleeping next to a man that thought of her as a person, a woman, and not a chess piece. The moments that could have felt real rather than performative. They all flowed through her brain like sand through a sieve.
John gave her a sad smile as he handed Ruby to her and kissed her forehead.
“She's beautiful,” he said quietly. “Like her mother.”
Lizzie smiled, tears forming in her eyes. “Goodbye, John.”
Lizzie was on edge as she waited for Tommy to return from business. The day he came back, she jumped as he slammed the door open to the children's play room.
“John was here?” Tommy demanded as he stopped in front of Lizzie and the children.
All giggles and smiles left as he loomed above them. Lizzie braced herself as she looked up to her husband. Charlie shrunk into her side.
“He was,” she said evenly. “Came looking for you one night, drunk off his mind. Made quite a scene with our staff. I brought him inside to gather himself. Mary insisted it was improper, but I reminded her how much you value family.”
Tommy's jaw ticked as he chewed through what she said. Lizzie held onto her children, no one daring to move under his gaze. Charlie was practically in her lap and she held Ruby snugly in the crook of her arm. Finally, Tommy spoke.
“And what did he say?”
“Not much,” Lizzie shrugged. “He paced the den, drank a few whiskeys, and left before dawn. Why?”
“Mary said he wanted you,” Tommy glared. “What would my missing brother want from my wife?”
Lizzie glared back.
“Maybe you should ask Mary,” Lizzie clipped. “I told you what I know.”
Tommy held her gaze for a moment before he stormed away to his study. Lizzie squeezed Charlie's shoulder as a faint smile curved her lips.
“Show me again, Charlie?” She hummed, looking at the stack of blocks.
The sun peeked over the horizon as he raced his horse through the pasture. If he was fast enough, he could reach them before they began moving again. He heard a rooster make the first morning call and he dug his heels into the horse, urging it on. He had tossed his cap miles ago and the hair on the top of his head began to move in the wind that raced through the sides of his buzzed hair.
He yipped as he pushed his horse on, feeling the sweat beading along its back.
Soon John was on the doorstep of the wagon with a fist full of wildflowers, opening the door with too much force. Esme jumped from the bed with a knife, her hair flying in every direction, the children surrounding her like a pile of pups.
“What in the –”
“I brought you flowers,” he sing-songed as he shut the door lighter than he had opened it. “Thought I would help make breakfast before we get back on the road.”
The children echoed a mix of surprised and excited shouts as they realized their father was in front of them. Esme stood, knife pointing to John.
“John Shelby, if you think you're taking these children back to the city –”
“Goodness no,” John cut her off as she walked up to him to stand chest to chest, glaring into his eyes with the knife still in hand.
Esme faltered, searching his face as confusion led her steadfast demeanor to begin to shake. John slowly took the knife from her hand, replacing it with the wildflowers. He tossed the knife to the ground.
“I'm not sure where we're going, but we're not going back,” John said, smiling.
He cupped Esme's face, placing a soft kiss on her forehead before touching his forehead to hers.
“This family is no longer Shelby,” he said, watching her closely. “Whether we're Lee or anything else, we're not Shelbys any more. I chose, Esme. You were right about that. I chose.”
The kids gathered around them, perplexed but a growing excitement buzzing through them.
Esme's breath shuddered as she fought tears in her eyes. She sharply inhaled and then exhaled, breath shaking.
“Right,” she squeaked before regaining her normal voice. “Children, go find some dandelions and mushrooms to add to the eggs. We'll eat quickly before going back to the trails. Move along, now.”
Katie looked between them before smiling knowingly and ushering the children out. John smiled down at his wife.
“I missed you, love,” he murmured, taking her chin in his hand to lead her to his kiss. “I never want to miss you again.”
“What will we call you if you're not a Shelby?” Esme asked, wrapping her arms around John's neck. John's hands found her sides as he began to sway to music no one else could hear.
“Call me whatever you like, love,” he chuckled. “Care to dance with a dead man?”
Esme laughed, kissing her husband as they continued to sway.