𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 ; tommy shelby

13 - 𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚

13.

               "Another whiskey, Mr Shelby?" Harry the barman offered, holding out the bottle.

"Yes, thank you Harry," he coughed, watching the burnt-honey-coloured liquid fill his glass.

He took a sip, feeling the familiar tingle to his throat. That Sunday evening, the Garrison was empty apart from him and Harry, but Thomas couldn't face going home, yet again.

He didn't want the cold embrace of his crisp white bedsheets or the constant lingering smell of Grace's perfume following him around like a ghost.

A low rumble came from the sky outside, a quiet but defiant discomfort to the otherwise calm grey skies.

"Looks like a storm's coming," Harry the barman said as he shined a glass.

As if by some sort of cruel pathetic fallacy, or temptation from the gods, a sharp knock echoed from the door. Somehow, Tommy knew exactly who would be on the other side of that door. The only real storm in his life, one that thundered and rained down on any bit of peace he might dare to enjoy — Emma Burgess.

Harry instinctively made for the door, opening it wide.

Tommy wasn't even surprised when he saw her standing there. She looked out from under her wide brimmed hat with dark blue eyes that had the intensity of a hurricane.

Her blonde hair was twisted back into a bun, and she wore a long blue trench coat, her picturesque face blank and expressionless. Without her sly smirk, it was obvious she wasn't here to play games, which was a first.

"Give us a minute, will you Harry?" Tommy said, and Harry swiftly obeyed, slinking into the back rooms without protest.

Emma closed the door behind her and walked over to the bar, her black t-bar shoes clacking angrily against the floorboards as she made her way towards him.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Tommy said dryly, heading around the counter to pour her a glass of whiskey. He knew of her love of gin martinis, but also knew of her hatred for an 'improper martini' and the Garrison was running empty on Vermouth. Tommy also wasn't usually one for sarcasm, but it seemed fitting in the circumstances. He had finally got the upper hand in Emma's little game, why not give her a taste of her own medicine.

"You don't know what you did, Thomas," Emma said, looking up from her glass of whiskey. Her face was different, probably for the first time since they'd met. He'd seen flickers of this side of her when he told her he knew her secret, but now it seemed to have taken over.

There was no sly smile poised upon those perfect rose lips, no mischievous glint in those stormy blue eyes. Her face hung seriously, her mouth tight and unmoving and her eyebrows slightly furrowed. This was the Emma that wasn't on top of the world, and yet there was still something so addictive about looking at her face, wondering what was going on behind the those eyes.

"You don't have money," Tommy spoke. "Isn't that it? You've run out of your allowance and you can't afford to live lavishly anymore."

"It's not just about the money," Emma said quietly, the pain visible in her voice almost to the point that Tommy felt bad. "I've lost—" she began, but seemed to stop herself. Tommy watched her take a deep breath and stand up, levelling her stormy blue eyes with his icy ones. Her face hardened, as if she was trying to assert control over her own emotions again, but her eyes still betrayed a certain sadness. "Forget it," she said putting her gloves back on and stalking out of the Garrison briskly.

Tommy stood there for a moment, replaying their short conversation over in his head. She seemed so close to showing him something real for a moment, the girl inside of the femme fatale, but had decided against it.

Something in Tommy had to know what she was going to say. Some part of him couldn't let her walk away without knowing why she looked so sad.

When she'd arrived, Emma was this unsolvable mystery to Thomas, but he'd made up his mind that she was merely a girl who took pleasure in playing games with people, controlling them. But now, just seeing her face had made Tommy unsure of everything he'd convinced himself of. She was this mystery again, and he had to know.

He rushed to the door, forgetting his coat as he plundered down a cold Garrison Lane. He could see the outline of her frame through the dark, rainy night.

He caught up with her, laying a hand down on her shoulder. She spun around quickly, blue eyes wild and intense with fear, glistening with tears. She turned away quickly, not meeting his eyes.

"What?" They both said in unison. And then again, at the same time: "What?"

"What do you want?" Emma asked.

"What did you lose?" Tommy shot back. "What were you going to say before you left."

There was a long pause, in which she still wouldn't meet his eye. "It doesn't matter."

"I want to know," he said.

"Why?"

"Because I'm Tommy Shelby and I want to know," Tommy said. "You don't ask why."

"I am asking." She said, her voice still a little cracked.

"Tell me and I'll tell you why I want to know," Tommy said. "What did you lose?"

"Everything!" She yelled, her eyes suddenly meeting his, filled with tears - none of which that she let roll down her cheeks. "Don't you see? They were the closest I had to a family!"

Tommy stood there, stunned. Rain splattered down onto his hair and shoulders, soaking both of their faces as they stood.

"And I can never go back to Galway," Emma shouted. "My father's family want me dead, for betraying them! The Burgess' weren't just money, they were security." A single tear escaped from Emma's left eye. She let it drip down her cheek to her chin, where it dropped off of her face. "I have no home here, no family, and now I can't even go back to Galway! I lost everything I never even had and I have nobody at all!"

Tommy didn't speak, for there seemed like there was nothing he could say to make this better. He had the answer to his question, and yet Emma seemed to be just as much of an enigma as before.

"Exactly," Emma said. "Exactly."

Tommy tried to say something, but nothing came to him. And with that she turned on her heel and left, storming off into the rainy night.