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thomasshelbydrabbles · 1 year

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The Messenger (21/22)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Adeline Taylor (OC)

Warnings: period typical sexism, series typical violence, period typical views of PTSD, period typical racism, blood and gore, smut

Summary: In Germany, Adeline impresses George and is rewarded for it. Back in Birmingham, she settles a score for the Peaky Blinders.

**This is a series, so you should read The School Teacher first if you want to understand everything.**

Note: As the show does, I am loosely using actual events and people from WW1 and other time periods represented in the show. These are fictionalized versions of both events and the people.

Word Count: 4266

A/N: Okay, so I know it’s been literal months since I’ve written anything. I had such a major case of writer’s block here because I couldn’t figure out how to get to the ending I have planned. So, here’s an update...finally, of me writing myself out of writer’s block.

Germany, 1916

“Please, mercy, I beg you. My men know nothing. Mercy. Oh God, mercy.”

Adeline’s lip curled up in disgust. Another one her mother would have venerated, held up to her as a paragon of some virtue she was meant to embody. The soldier had done nothing but cry and beg for his life, for the lives of his men, for just one more moment in his wife’s arms. He’d bleated on about God having mercy on his soul, as though any of them still had one, as though men not moments away from death spoke of God’s mercy for their sins.

Why did their skin always become a mess of blotchy red patches on their face? She could make out the trails of tears as they cut a path through the mud and the blood on his cheeks. They’d been thorough in their interrogation. Adeline glanced over her shoulder. George muttered to himself as he paced the length of the room, distracted by the papers in his hands. She played with the knife she held while she waited for the man to answer. He could be quite tedious when the mood struck him, and something about the damp in the air today had him curiously reserved.

“He no longer has useful information for us, my dear. I’ve no further use for him.”

Looking back at the soldier covered in his own blood, Adeline shrugged her shoulders. With a snap of her fingers, she had the other men brought to her. It had been a small group of soldiers, half a dozen, plus their leader they’d been asked to interrogate. Setting the knife down on the long table, she picked up a pistol. Six shots rang out, the noise bouncing back against the walls of the enclosed room. She placed the gun back on the table and picked up her knife. Kneeling before the man she studied him, took note of the horrified look in his eyes, the dumbstruck way his mouth hung open.

“I’m in a giving mood today,” Adeline remarked as she traced the knife along his neck. “My gift, although I won’t take it personally if you don’t quite see it as such, was granting you the knowledge that I did show mercy to your men, as I will show to you. Let’s call it my…better nature.”

His eyes narrowed as he glared at her, alight with a hatred she could taste in the air around them. She smiled sadly at him because they both knew it was a futile, empty sort of anger. With a swift movement, she slashed the blade across his neck, watched the blood leave his body.

Wiping the blade on her skirt she stood to her feet.

“Mercy, Arke?” George asked, amusement lacing his tone. “I thought you might still be fighting me, still searching for a way to save these men. Could it be that you have finally learned that we are in the middle of a war?”

“The only mercy in war is death.”

George gazed at her, eyes scrutinizing her face. She relaxed her shoulders, settled her stance. He stepped closer to her, his papers forgotten on a nearby chair. Gently, with something that might be confused for tenderness, his thumb traced the bow of her lip.

“It was a bit of a calculated risk when I allowed Captain Solomons to be the one to escort you to Calais back then, and I feared it might have unintended consequences for us both,” he paused.

A shiver raced down her spine as his lips grazed her ear, his voice a low intimate whisper. “It still might.”

Her eyes narrowed on him.

“Don’t look at me like that, Arke. I know very well Captain Solomons taught you many things, has continued to teach you things as this war has continued. I value useful things.”

She wanted to bite off his nose, to see what his bones looked like stripped of skin as she gnawed on his flesh. She wanted to know the taste of his blood as it dripped from her mouth, to feel it wet, warm between her fingers.

“I have received some information I think you will find particularly useful, and I hesitated on sharing it with you. However, your exceptional work today has swayed me.”

Again, the feeling of wrong settled around her as he circled her. She could feel the heat of his body as he settled behind her, his hands on her hips felt like chains binding her to this place, to him, to her choices, to Arke.

“It appears your favorite Captain has found himself a small measure of trouble. Seems he has been captured, taken away to Krefeld.”

Adeline forced herself to breathe. It had been nearly a year since she’d last seen him. Knowing he was alive, even if he had managed to get himself captured, the idiot, was good news. Alfie, of all the people she knew, could take care of himself. Belgium had revealed her close relationship with him, and George weaponized it against her. She couldn't risk him harming Alfie. Not after Belgium. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if this whole thing wasn’t a trap. Going could be just as disastrous as not going.

“Always thinking, Arke. Always looking for an angle, trying to anticipate my next move. Good. I’m glad you’re taking this seriously, but I assure you, this is no trap. I want you to go to Krefeld. The fates, it would seem, are on your side in this since it is not only an officer’s camp but a hospital.”

“After Be- ”

“Stop.”

Adeline’s mouth snapped shut, knocking her teeth together. He moved so quickly that she barely tracked his movements. Her cheeks ached from the harsh grip he had on them, his fingers biting into her flesh.

“We do not speak of Belgium. I warned you about attachments, but you chose not to heed my lesson, now you suffer the consequences of your own foolishness.”

Would his blood taste like brimstone? Perhaps it would hold a slight aftertaste of sulfur. Taking a slow breath, she forced herself to relax, to become pliant in his grip. As she did, George loosened his hold on her face, moved his hands down her neck, and brought her lips to hers in a kiss that tasted like ash.

“How long?”

“One week. One week from today I expect you to report back to me at our location. Do whatever you can manage within that time.”

* * * * *

Sneaking into the Krefeld prison camp was easy. Surprisingly so. Of course, here, she was simply another nameless, faceless nurse, one as interchangeable as the next. No one cared about names anymore, not this late into a seemingly unending war. After spending one day blending into the hospital, making herself seen, but unremarkable at various locations throughout the camp, she began searching for Alfie in earnest.

Naturally, she heard him before she saw him. Even in captivity, his voice echoed through the halls, his presence filled each corner of the room. He sat at a table with a deck of cards, looking a bit malnourished, but unharmed. Quietly as she’d entered, she left the room. Waiting in a small closet just across from the room, she listened. Heard the guards muttering to themselves, the scrape of chairs against the floors, the distant bang of gunfire and artillery. Fighting never far off anymore.

There. The sound of his heavy gait unmistakable. She opened the door and hauled Alfie into the closet before him or anyone else noticed or could react. Hand over his mouth, she shoved him against the closed door, only the element of surprise keeping him from overpowering her.

In the dim light of the room, it took a moment, but she knew when he recognized her. She smiled as she removed her hand from his mouth. Alfie’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at her, mouth pulled down in a scowl.

“I know I’m not seeing you, pet. Not seeing you here in this place because that would be stupid. Too stupid for you, right? Came to an agreement, we did.”

“Aye. Then you decided to get yourself captured like a giant idiot of a man, so here I am. I don’t keep patching you up only for you to get yourself caught and killed in a German prison camp.”

“You’ve seen me, seen that I’m fine. Now that you’ve seen that, right, now that you know you’ll leave the way you came before someone notices you. Not a good place, this place.”

“No good places on this continent, Alfie. Not anymore. I’ll leave, and you’ll come with me.”

Alfie stroked his beard before shaking his head at her, as though he were disappointed in her. She rolled her eyes. Always so dramatic.

“Come on. We have a short window for my plan to work. I’ll get you out either way, but quieter is better.”

Reaching into the bag slung across her shoulder, she pulled a knife and a pistol. She handed both to Alfie who began to check the weapon over, pull the slide back, count the number of bullets. She wanted to scoff at him, to scold him for thinking she’d give him an ineffective weapon, but she couldn’t because his attention to detail, his insistence that she always check her weapons had saved her more times than she cared to think about in the past year.

“Good edge on this blade, pet. Seems you’ve not forgotten everything useful that I taught you, even if you have lost all sense.”

“I was hardly going to leave you here once I learned you’d been captured.”

“Mmm, reckless, pet. Always so reckless.”

Adeline turned to face him, met his gaze. “Nothing about saving you is ever reckless, and you’ll have to take that pistol in your hand and shoot me between the eyes to keep me from doing everything in my power to keep you safe and alive. So either shoot me or shut up and follow me out of this ‘not good place’. Make your choice.”

For a few suspended moments, they stared at each other. If he’d been anyone else, she thought he might shoot her. If she were anyone else, he might consider mercy. Unfortunately, he liked her too much to ever grant her the mercy of war. She figured it was only fair since was just as selfish; she’d keep him alive no matter how much he protested. Idiot man.

When he finally nodded his head, she grinned at him, quick and cheeky just to hear the sound of his laugh.

Moving quickly down the hallway, they encountered no one at this hour. Her timing held, and while the guards rotated, she and Alfie slipped out the backdoor. Backs pressed to the wall, they slowly moved along the far side of the building, eyes searching the distance for any movement. At the edge of the building, Adeline held her arm out, halting them. Alfie looked down at her. She pointed to a building no more than 100 meters away from them, closer to the forest, closer to the cover that would allow them to sneak through the camp and escape. His eyes followed her arm, glanced around the forest as though tracking her escape route in his mind. Nodding, he moved in front of her; she rolled her eyes but allowed it because they didn’t have time to fight about who got to lead them out of Krefeld.

Their luck couldn’t hold out, and just as they began the dash from the side of the building to the cover of the next, angry shouts of HALT! sounded from behind them. Seems as though she’d need to enact the backup plan she’d spent her first day in camp preparing. Shame.

“You run to the tree line,” Adeline ordered, voice broking no argument, although she could see it on the tip of Alfie’s tongue. “I can’t fight them and save you at the same time. You’ll get me killed if you don’t do as I say.”

Even as she turned away, she knew he wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t do as he was told. Same as her in that regard. Once, years ago now, she would have done exactly as he told her, too sacred, too weak to argue if she wanted to live. Part of her missed that girl. The simple nurse from the north who wanted more out of life than what her mother and father mapped out for her. What a fool that girl had been.

After Belgium, she’d spent some time in France, met some clay kickers who’d not been fortunate in their digging. Listened to them talk about their thankless job, about how to build a tunnel, how to explode one behind them to keep the enemy back. Explosives weren't her favorite tool - much too loud, but she couldn’t deny their effectiveness when she needed a distraction and enough carnage to keep everyone too occupied to notice small things, like two figures dashing off into the forest.

One of the soldiers who’d been shouting caught up with her. She slit his neck as soon as he grabbed, her and spun her around to face him. His lifeless body fell to the ground with a muted thump. She dropped another half dozen bodies before she reached her location, saw the nest of wires. Maybe the soldiers she’d spoken to in France, the ones who spent all their time below ground, maybe they would be proud of her, of knowing she used the skills she learned from them to escape, to save Alfie. Maybe one day she’d be able to thank them for their knowledge. On second thought, she doubted they’d want or appreciate her thanks for that.

She heard another soldier behind her, saw his shadow looming above her shoulder. A cruel smile stretched across her lips. With lithe movements, she jumped to her feet and navigated her trap. Behind her, she listened to the soldier’s blundering gait, felt the moment he hit the tripwire with his leg.

One breath.

Another.

A moment of silence, and then…

The heat of the explosion blasted against her back, threw her forward and down onto the ground. On her hands and knees, she crawled forward, toward the forest. She could see the outline of Alfie, watched him hesitate just enough to make the foolish decision. Behind her, she could hear men yell, scream, cry out in agony as they suffered burns, likely even shrapnel wounds from the explosives she’d created. Alfie, fool that he was for not doing as he’d been told, met her halfway between the camp and the forest. His big hands hauled her to her feet and they ran, legs pumping, feet pushing hard against the ground beneath them.

Once clear of the camp, and assured no one had followed them, they slowed. Walking in silence, they caught their breath as the enormity of the previous days caught up with them both. She led them to a small village about five kilometers from Krefeld. She’d left provisions and two horses with a nice couple who appreciated the extra money for their farm.

“Venlo is 32 kilometers away, but with the horses, it should take four maybe five hours. Once we’ve reached the border, it’ll be safer for you.”

They rode in silence, but she could feel Alfie’s eyes on her. Knew he wanted to say something to her. It’d been a year since they’d last seen each other and she realized with something close to regret, she hadn’t even given him a hug yet. There hadn’t been time. No. She hadn’t made time. A year ago she might have made time. She found it hard to remember the person she’d been.

Once they crossed the border, she found a place for them to stop. Once again paid the farmers for the use of their barn. Glancing up, she caught the look on Alfie’s face. If she hadn’t been looking for it, she would have missed the concern she saw lurking in the corner of his eyes. Damn him.

Adeline ran a hand through her hair, turned her face away from Alfie. “Do you remember the promise you made to me that day long ago in a snow covered field in Calais?

“I do remember that day, and the promise I made to you. I remember that day, pet.”

“And, are you a man of your word, Alfie?”

He moved around the horse, sat on a bench along the wall of the barn.

“I’m not adamant about always being truthful, that’s true enough, pet. Never met anyone who avoids lies as much as you, so I’ll not sit here and say, right, not say I never lie, but I am a man of my word to those I care about. And, see, despite me best judgement, I care about you.”

Adeline sat next to him. Took his large hand between hers, felt the heat and the warmth of it. “I’ll keep you to your promise, Alfie, the one you made to me that day because I haven’t been me in so long, I don’t think I’ll ever be just Adeline again. Each day kills another piece of her. Each piece is replaced by Arke.”

Her laugh was humorless, harsh in the stillness of the barn. She traced the veins on the back of Alfie’s hands to distract herself from the voices in her head.

“Do you know why I knew you’d been captured? I’d love to say I did it on my own, figured it out, felt it in the bloody universe. George told me. Sent me to rescue you. Gave me a whole week to do it, too. As a fuckin’ reward for killing a whole group of soldiers, without fighting him about finding another way. I didn’t think about it, Alfie. By the time I even had a thought, they were all dead at my feet. I called it mercy, too. Meant it, even. You taught me that death was mercy in war. I understand that now. George, I think he found it amusing that I use mercy as a shield to do what needs to be done to survive. Told me what camp you’d been taken to, said it was fate that had you taken to one with a hospital.”

She paused. The words tasted bitter in her mouth. Felt like weakness to be sitting her next to Alfie, felt like she was admitting to failure, as though George would be lurking in the shadows ready to punish her for it. She shook her head, dispelling the downward spiral of her thoughts.

“Somewhere in France, sometime after Belgium, I lost the part of me that cared about life. There is no life in a war. Just death. Some slower than others, but we’re all dead. Some of us just don’t know it yet. And I comfort myself with that thought. If we make it back, I’ll need you to help me cobble together what’s left of me.”

Alfie pressed a kiss to the side of Adeline’s head. “We all lose ourselves in wars. No place for decent people in a war, no place at all. So, I’ll do as I said as long as you do as you said. Survive, pet. Do whatever it takes, no matter how awful it is, no matter how much of yourself you feel you’re losing because I can, right, I can put the pieces back together. But, the only way I can do that is if you live, if you survive. I know you’ve changed. It’s been a year, but that’s a lifetime at least in a war, in this hell and you’re a different person, pet. It’s good though, this change, might not think so, but it’ll keep you alive. Fragmented, broken and reforged, but alive.”

A year ago, she might have cried.

Harborne, 1922

The house was small, but clean. Reminded her a bit of the house she grew up in. She sat in the chair near the fireplace. It’s embers no longer emitted heat, but the owners had been out for the day, and wood shouldn’t be wasted on an empty house. After some time, she heard the door creak on its hinges as it opened.

A smile crept across her face as she watched Irene O’Donnell startle, saw her drop her basket to the ground, her hand cover her breast as her heartbeat quickened. Small joys these days.

“The bloody hell are you doing in my house, Miss Taylor?”

“It’s a shame about your boy. But, I think in the end I’ll be do him a favor. One he might not thank me for, should he ever learn of it, but such is the way of things.”

“You’ve not told me what it is you’re doing in my house.”

Adeline smiled at her. “I’m here to collect for the damage you caused to Arthur Shelby’s pub.”

“You’ve no proof that was me.”

Adeline tisked. “Now, we’re a bit beyond lying, hm? It’s just us women, no men to put on airs and graces for. I do wonder how a woman like you, one with a child, gets herself in the middle of a political situation that will never be resolved. But, the question I truly want answer to is how you think someone like Inspector Campbell can be trusted. He’s killed or been responsible for killing so many of your kin it’s a wonder you can look at yourself in the mirror.”

“What would you know about a cause?”

“It’s funny. You’re not the first person to ask me that question. Someone, who if you don’t know them personally, you’ve at least heard of. He is what you people with a cause call a true believer. A nice enough man by the name of Byrne.”

She enjoyed the way the color drained from Irene’s face. Took pleasure from her labored breathing.

“I see you’ve heard of him. Good. That makes the rest of our business easier. See, he doesn’t tolerate traitors, a stance I commend him for. We met down in London earlier, after one of our first meetings with the good Inspector Campbell, and we had ourselves a little chat. The details aren’t important, but what we agreed to is this. I leave his man Donal, a true IRA man, alone, and, in exchange, I get to deal with the woman responsible for blowing up Arthur Shelby’s pub.”

Irene stumbled as she sat on a wooden chair near a table on the opposite side of the room.

“I’m doing you a favor. I’ll make it quick since I don’t give a single toss about your cause, or your need to turn traitor. Makes no difference to me. But, a man like Byrne, oh for him it’s personal. He’d make you suffer. Your family, too. Arthur’s not one for making women suffer either, so that makes you twice lucky. Your son, he’ll be looked after. Sent off to America where the IRA have no interest in him, and he’ll - if he’s got any sense - forget about whatever nonsense about a cause that you’ve put into his head and grow up, live his life.”

“And I’m supposed to trust a woman like you?”

“Trust me or don’t, it won’t change anything. You’re going to die today. I’m going to be the one who does it. Your son is already down in London, waiting for a train down to Southampton. From there, he’ll get on a boat, travel with a nice family to New York. I’ve been asked to make it look like a suicide, something that can be made useful for the cause. Personally, I find it a bit distasteful, but it was the price for your son’s freedom, so I figured it would be better. Make your death useful for more than just payment for your own foolishness. Death should have meaning. If you’d been in a real war, seen real violence, I think you might agree. Too late now, of course.”

Irene nodded her head. No doubt the poor woman felt overwhelmed, too shocked to put up a fight as Adeline moved her to sit at the table properly. She took the pistol from her purse, pulled the hammer back, noticed the way Irene winced at the sound. Maybe, years ago, before the war, she might have felt pity for this woman, read about her story in the paper and been saddened by her lot in life. Moving to stand behind her, Adeline realized it didn’t matter. The story in the paper wouldn’t have been written for her, so the message would have been lost on her.

“My son,” Irene’s voice broke on the words. “Will he know? Will he believe - ”

“Aye. He’ll know. Can’t say if he’ll believe it or not, but he’d not have a good reason to doubt it. Hopefully, he won’t know until he’s older, until he goes searching for a truth he’d be better off never learning.”

“I wish I’d never met you.”

Adeline nodded. “I know.”

As she placed the gun to Irene’s temple, she thought about Clara. She could almost make out the details of her face, see the curve of her smile, the color of her eyes. Adeline pressed a kiss to the top of Irene’s head.

“May whatever awaits you beyond this life bring you peace.”

Pulling the trigger felt like a beginning, not an ending.

As the sound echoed through the room, Adeline felt a chill dance up her spine.

Part 22

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