Power and Lies

Nine

"War does not determine who is right - only who is left."
-Bertrand Russell

There are limits to what a man can take, Tommy knew that. Whether it was morally or somewhere deep in the mind there was a line constantly being pressed on by life, begging a person to step over it. He had seen it in the tunnels, many men crossed over it and became something new, something a little less human. It was hard to go back to being just a man after that. So he became something else entirely. Something unfeeling, incapable of forming attachments outside of his family and the men who leapt at him through his walls in the pale moonlight. He should have never allowed Freya into the collection of sin he maintained in this life, but she was here now, and as he had stood there staring at the large oaf of a man placing his hands all over her body he had recoiled from the sharp pangs of jealousy that flooded through him. His body was in turmoil, his soul and flesh warring with one another. He could neither stand to see the sight or look away. Instead he smoked, thankful to have something to have some sort of distraction, even if it were purely physical.

When she had stabbed him it was visceral rage, he could see it written all over her skin as though God himself had stamped it upon her. There was something there, under the skin and in the deep parts of her mind that caused that. Something dark, the same sort of darkness Tommy had bred into himself in the tunnels- a feral desire for survival and more. But when her eyes met his for the smallest moment there had been something else there, a need to protect and be protected. It called to him, her soul flickering out and begging to meet his. Is this what people called love? Thomas Shelby held very little dear to him, but this small girl with her fortress of self-destruction was quickly finding her way into his defenses, daring him to make her leave.

He stared at her across the bar through drunken eyes. It was a night for celebrations and the pub was loud with the sounds of laughter and song, these moments were supposed to be when he let his guard down and enjoyed the rewards from his strife. Instead he played the day over and over in his mind. From John's arm fingers wrapped up in Freya's, to the dress she wore, to all the other moments, he was entranced. Not even Grace's presence next to him was enough to drag his attention away. Her fingers were lightly touching the arm of his brother, a laugh falling from her as though she had never killed a man. A lesser man would be frightened of her. But he was not a lesser man, and nothing scared him. He would not step in the way of John's happiness, nor did he have a right to with Grace on his arm. And John did look happy. He wanted the best for his brothers, as foolish and destructive as they could be. The empire they were building was not made upon his back alone. They were a family in work and life, and through the bickering he still loved them deep down.

"You know, a girl might get jealous lookin' at you staring at another," Grace spoke softly to him. He could hear the subtle tones in her voice begging for his attention. Anything to hold on to what they had. She searched his eyes every night looking for the magic they used to have. But it was fading with each day that went by as he retreated from her. At one point Tommy would've left it all behind for Grace, uncaring if the entire world burned down around him. Now, he was not so sure.

Maybe it was the drink, but for a moment he was sure that Freya had looked at him, her eyes begging for him to come to her, rescue her, love her. Instead, he closed his eyes, allowing the drink in his hand to take him somewhere far away.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

John was drunk, drunker than Freya had ever seen him. His words slurred and he smiled at Freya without focus several times. She knew it would not be long until he drifted off into sleep, left by the others to sleep it off and depart in the early morning hours. There was something deeply innocent looking about him when he was drunk. About all the Shelby men, actually. It was not often she saw anyone as bad as this, but when they did, she loved being there. They dropped their walls and for a second she felt like she knew the men behind the Shelby name, not just the business.