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babylooneytoonz · 4 years

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Trip Mines & Broken Hearts [Tommy Shelby x Reader]

Quick link to find all the other parts here.

Part-5

In the bleak midwinter, when everything was dark and decaying, you had one hope. A tiny ray of light; in the form of her shrill cries—

You named her Sophie.

All that pain, all those endless hours of screaming, cursing and writhing in pain, she had finally made an appearance at 4 am on an early winter morning in Birmingham, her tiny black hair mopped over her small, round head. She was beautiful, her tiny hand, it could fit in your wedding band.

She had her father's blue eyes, and maybe, she would have Tommy's cheekbones when she grew up.

How you loved those cheekbones—

As you nursed your newborn to sleep, you felt a pang in your chest, and a sudden breathlessness; your heart aching for him. If only, he was here right now. If only, he could hold her, press her to his chest, and promise he will watch over her for the rest of his life, devoting himself to the daughter he shared with you.

Now, six years later, the pain wasn't as severe as it was before.

Time heals all wounds—

No, it doesn't heal them, you just get so immune to the pain, you stop feeling it anymore. It's as though it becomes a part of you—

If there was one thing you could not have, the love of the man you wanted, you had found companionship; friendship in form of Theodore Wilkinson, your husband. Your daughter, your precious angel, your little Sophie, had a loving, nurturing father and you were happy.

But you couldn't stop her from growing up, could you?

You wished sometimes, that she was still a babe, curled at your chest, nestled away from all the harsh realities of this world, unaware, in a bliss. But then, she was growing up.

She was six today—

Although you couldn't afford to throw her a lavish birthday party, with all the money restrictions, the rent you had to pay, taking care of your husband, who was slowly dying, succumbing finally, to the infection that his leg had caught back in France, you did still do what little you could to make her day. Three of her friends had just left, their tummies full, remnants of the delicious chocolate lavendar cake you had baked still on the corners of their lips.

You stood by the door to your parlor, your eyes trained on your daughter who was sprawled over the carpeted floor, unwrapping what little presents she had, while her father sat in his wheelchair, not far from her, an excited, happy look on his face, causing you to smile as well. On days like this, you felt blessed, you felt thankful, that your daughter had gotten the love of both, a father and a mother. No child should be deprived of that.

Your husband's eyes caught you and you saw him bend slightly, whispering something into Sophie's ears as he slowly wheeled his way towards where you were standing.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asked you.

"She's growing up so fast, Theodore, I just—" You grumbled, both your eyes trained on her as she was still unwrapping one of the boxes, "— I wish time would slow down. It's like her childhood is slipping away and I'm losing you to —" You bit back on your tongue, to refrain yourself from saying it out loud, but it was too late, he had already caught you.

"T's okay love, you can say it. I'm dying. But there's nothing to be sad in that, is there? You gave me a new life in France, if it wasn't for you, I would have died back then, wouldn't have had the fuckin' chance to father such a lovely child."

"Theo—" You whispered, placing both your hands on his shoulders as you towered over him, giving them a slight squeeze.

This man had been nothing but kind to you. You wished you could love him the way you loved the man who didn't look back, left you and your daughter but you couldn't. No matter how hard you tried, there is a thing about love—the heart had a mind of its own; it wanted what it wanted, no matter how hard you tried to confuse it. Theo had always known that you didn't love him, not the way a wife should love his husband but he was okay with it. He knew that someone had broken your heart, so bad, you had stopped living, you just existed and he had often tried to ask you who he was, but you had never told him.

It surprised you today, when out of the blue, on your daughter's sixth birthday, he asked you the question you didn't want to answer.

"Would you deny a dying man a last wish?"

"You are not dying Theo—"

"Who was he, love? The man that broke your heart? Who's her father?" He pointed towards Sophie with his eyes.

"You are."

"Biological father, love." He said, a little sternly.

You sighed, your fingers toying aimlessly with each other. You had tried to stir him away from this for six years, but you didn't think you could lie any longer. And he was right, not when he was inching closer to death everyday. You could already see his bones, he hardly could keep food inside, you often had to keep him on a liquid diet.

So you decided, that tonight in bed, you would tell him everything because he deserved to know. And when you did, needless to say, he was shocked.

"Thomas Shelby? Thomas Fucking Shelby? That bloody gangster that threatens men with those fookin' razor blades?" Your husband had a priceless look on his face; as though he had mined out diamonds and was about to get rich.

"You talk about him like he's some fuckin' God."

"He is, to almost all of Birmingham, you see there's only a thin line between God and the devil, the devil is, after all, a fallen angel—" He groaned as he tried to get comfortable in bed but could not do so, his sore body making him almost curse in pain.

You couldn't help roll your eyes at him, shrug your shoulders and lay down on your back, closing your eyes, as you mumbled, "Go to bed, Theo, I have to be at the clinic early in the morning." You worked at a tiny clinic on the other side of the town; a clinic for the lower middle class, those who couldn't afford going to expensive doctors. But he paid you enough to keep your house over the head.

The next morning, you had woken up early and headed to the clinic and much to your dismay, there had been a blast at a factory nearby, which meant you had to extend your shift by a few hours as the casualty number was starkly high. It was almost ten at night and you had been working non stop for almost fourteen hours. Your body felt like it had been run over by a motorcar, your shoulders were tense and you had a spurting headache that caused you to groan in annoyance at any sound that you came across, while walking back home.

Little did you know that you were soon going to forget all this—

Your house was eerily quiet, and usually you could hear the sound of your daughter's words even when you had not started climbing up the stairs to your front door. But of course, it was late at night and it wouldn't be a surprise if your husband had somehow managed to tuck her in.

You unlocked the door with a sigh, stepping in and immediately sliding out of your shoes. The living room was dark, but you could see that the lights in Sophie's bedroom were switched on. Taking off your overcoat, you placed it on the hanger, noting an unfamiliar overcoat hanging on it. Who was visiting your house at 10 at night?

"Sophie, baby?" Your voice was trembling slightly, ringing through the hallway as you aimlessly called out; although you didn't know why.

That's when you heard the floorboard creak, somewhere in the house, just lightly but you had still caught it; and you knew you weren't alone.

The first thing you did was lunge at a vase nearby as a reflex, curling your fingers tight around it; switching on the light.

A sudden panic took over you and you turned towards the intruder.

"It's me, put the fucking vase down."

Just like his words, the vase slipped from your fingers, crashing against the floor as the horror sunk in. Oh, how you had imagined this night to be; the countless times you had rehearsed in your mind, what you were going to say to him, but right now, all you could manage to do was let out the breath you didn't even realise you were holding in.

It was as though you were standing face to face with your past—

After all these fucking years, he looked just the same; just a tad bit older perhaps & the way his hair was styled was so different now; and was that pain in his eyes? Was that regret? Regret he fucking left you like a discarded toy—

The relief of seeing him again was short-lived, and what followed it was a fear, a mother's instinct.

"Sophie. Where is she? Where is she?" You screamed out loud, hot tears sliding out of your eyes.

"Fucking hell," He almost snapped in annoyance, "Stop, she's inside —"

"How the fuck did you even find us? What the fuck are you doing in my fucking house?"

You were going mad; you were going crazy. You could feel your body shake like a leaf. Tommy tried to hold you by your shoulders to stop you from shaking but you pushed his hands away, taking a step away.

"Sophie?" You turned back around; running towards your daughter's bedroom. Pushing the door open, you stepped in, only to find her asleep in bed, her teddy bear tucked into her arm. You slid down on the floor, next to the bed, running your fingers through her hair and slowly, she fluttered her eyes open, probably having been woken up from sleep, "Mummy?"

"Baby, mummy's here, you don't have to be afraid. Where's your daddy?"

She shifted in bed, bringing her teddy up to her chest, "Which daddy mummy? The old one or the new one?"

"What do you mean? Of course, you've got one daddy, baby."

There was a sudden silence in the room. It didn't make sense; there sat your daughter's real father, in the living room of your house. And here, your daughter's words didn't make any sense.

"Daddy said that he is my new daddy, I haven't seen him since then," your daughter's sleepy voice reached you.

"When did this happen, baby?"

"When daddy took me to meet my new daddy. Now will you come to bed with me?" She rubbed her sleepy eyes with her palms.

It all made sense now.

"Go to sleep, baby. Mummy will join you in a minute. Mummy wants to speak to your daddy."

Her real daddy.

You were about to stand up, when her sleepy, broken words reached your ears, "Is my new daddy still here? I want him mummy."

You sighed, barely audible as you tucked her into her blanket, kissing her forehead before you made your way out, closing the door slowly without slamming in. Your shoes flapped against the wooden floorboards as you stormed your way into your bedroom, only to find an empty bed, the place where Theodore used to rest. You didn't understand.

Your nostrils flared; your eyes burnt in hatred. That man had probably done something, of course, he was Thomas Fucking Shelby, capable of anything.

You stepped into the hallway, screaming his name until you were once again standing face to face.

"THOMAS?!"

Today, you were going to confront him, this was the day you had been waiting for, but you sure had hoped it would be in better circumstances—

"Where the fuck is my husband?"

"Sit down."

"Thomas, just tell me what did you do to him? Did you kill him? Did you fucking kill him because you couldn't stand —"

"FOR FUCKS SAKE, WILL YOU BLOODY SIT DOWN?"

He cut you off, screaming back at you, just as loudly as you were screaming, your chest heaving up and down.

Finally, you dropped down on the edge of the couch, as though you were nothing but a lifeless corpse. You looked at him, your eyes clouded with mist; hatred in your eyes.

"You shouldn't have come back, I was so happy without you."

From the corner of your eye, you saw Tommy sit doen on a couch opposite to you, his elbows coming to rest on his knees as he pushed them apart, arching his body forward, his cold, conniving eyes scrutinizing you. His fingers shuffled through his breast pocket to pull out a box of cigarettes and a stick, pinning it to his lips. As you saw him light a match, his face glowing orange under the light from the tiny source of fire, you could see the haunting in his eyes, the questions buried deep within his soul.

"Why didn't you fucking tell me?"

You sat back, your back brushing against the backrest as you eyed him, a bitter smile creeping against the corner of your lips.

"What good would have come from telling you anyway? You were busy with that blonde bartender of yours, what was her name? Ah, yes, Grace."

Tommy's hand clenched into a fist at the mention of her name, his knuckles almost cracking and a warning look crossed his eyes.

"Don't drag her into this mess you've fucking created."

"Where is my husband?" Your immediate question followed; your body a little relaxed now. If he wanted to have a discussion like adults, you were going to give him one.

"Your husband—" You stiffened, sensing the bitterness in his throat; the way the words rolled out of his lips, venomous, ugly. You could sense the danger lurking within the walls of his emotionless eyes, a danger you wanted to shield your daughter from.

"I freed him."

You stood up, towering over him, blinking; confused.

"What?"

You watched as the man you once loved bring the cigarette up to his lips, smoke belting out of his mouth, coiling around him like a snake.

"Guess I had a visitor, an unexpected one, for that matter. At first, I didn't believe what he told me; that he was your fucking husband."

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HUSBAND?"

"I just handed him the gun—"

You could listen no more. Your throat contracted, a sudden feeling of someone choking and twisting your insides took over you, and you doubled up, pressing your palm to your lips, a wave of nausea hitting you. You then recoiled away from him.

He killed your husband.

"Why?" You whispered; your tears falling freely off your eyes, looking into his eyes for any form of emotion, if there was any left inside of him.

"He begged me for release."

You knew he wasn't lying, the man that was dead inside him, the boy you knew, did not lie to you. Not when he was looking you straight in the eye. Your memories flew back to the day he had confessed to not having given Jasper the locket that was intended to be his goodluck charm, which was now dangling from his waistcoat.

"You couldn't live without taking another one's life, did you? You couldn't fucking keep your hands off my husband, you fucking did it again."

Tommy stood up, letting the butt of the cigarette drop to your floor and he stomped on it, his hands flying to his waist. He took a step forward, towering over you, his mind struggling to keep in control the rage that was building inside him.

"I did what he asked me to, hand him the fucking gun. It's a soldier's thing, you won't bloody understand."

"Are you religious, Thomas?" You stood up abruptly, ignoring how close you were standing from him, your chest almost parallel to his.

"Never was."

"Then stop trying to be a fucking God."

You felt numb, your thoughts scattered, your heart wailing in agony. You turned away from him, you couldn't look him in the eye. He was a murderer. Even if it was your husband who had wanted it.

You knew it, with every bit of your heart, how Theodore hated being like this; in pain, like a heavy burden on your shoulders, but he shouldn't have done it. The realisation hit you, how he had asked you who Sophie's father was and maybe, just maybe you had lied, maybe it wouldn't have happened.

"Is she mine?" That cold voice was at it again, clawing through your mind like a shovel.

After all that you had been through, he thought she wasn't his.

"Why are you here if she isn't yours?"

He didn't answer.

"Get the fuck out of my house, out of my life, back into the fucking hole you crawled out from and out of my daughter's life. You've murdered my husband, I wouldn't let you touch a hair on my girl's head."

Something shattered around you; a beautiful vase, scattering to pieces around you as Thomas took his anger out on it, smashing it to the wall. Without saying anything, you watched as he turned around, taking his coat off the coat hanger.

"If she's my girl, there's no one that can stop me from seeing her, ay?"

With one last warning, your front door slammed shut and you were engulfed in a sudden emptiness, in a big empty house— a widow, with a daughter to raise.

(A/N - The GIFs are not mine, found one on Google and liked it so I saved it. Let me know if it is yours and I will credit you. 💕)

@sighonahurricane hope you like it.

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