Summary: Thomas has come back from the war a different man and is moving up in the underworld as the head of the Peaky Blinders, but what happens when someone from his past comes unexpectedly back into his life?
Summary: In the hours after the attack, both Tommy and the reader find themselves struggling to sleep.
Word Count: 1735
Warnings: Anxiety, nightmares
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Thomas sat bolt upright, the loose blanket falling from the sofa to the floor below. His hands clenched in tight fists, his forehead covered in perspiration as his chest heaved with quick, rigid breaths.
Since the war, his nights had been plagued by endless subterranean tunnels, heavy with dirt and dust. The constant grating percussion of pickaxe against earthen wall, sounding from the other side. Each tap bringing them closer to the sound of German whispers. The unrelenting cry of his lungs, begging for just one breath of clean air as the men around him tried desperately to cough and wheeze in silence, just waiting for the inevitable collapse of the ever-thinning dirt barrier. Every miserable passing second surely bringing them closer to their end.
Except, tonight the tunnel wasn't filled with exhausted wheezing men, nor did German soldiers come barrelling through the collapsing wall. Instead, he found himself standing wide and protective in front of (YN), who lay broken and unconscious in the dirt, her dress ripped to pieces, her poor body left bloody and exposed. Rage and anger consumed him as he glared down at the motionless man who unforgivably brought harm upon his love. Looking like nothing more than a worthless bag of broken and bloody bones, completely unrecognisable, his own fists remaining clenched before him cut, swollen and dripping with blood. But it was the guilt that woke him up, the guilt that was going to eat him alive from the inside out.
If only he had left The Garrison fifteen minutes earlier, he would have arrived at the bakery before that animal did. And (YN) wouldn't be lying in his bed upstairs with a hand full of stitches and a face full of cuts and bruises. Although, the very thought of what would have happened had he not turned up when he did, well... he couldn't even think about it, the very idea causing a physical pain in his chest. Thomas was thankful though, that she was a fighter, strong enough and brave enough to fight back, stabbing the monster through his side with a piece of broken glass and she would forever hold the scars to prove it. Thankfully, the doctor had said, that somehow between all the stitches she was lucky enough to miss her tendons, but her hand would forever bear the deep and jagged scars and probably quite a bit of nerve damage.
Sitting there he waited for his breaths to calm. Concentrating on the tick of the wall clock behind him, he slowly felt the rise and fall of his chest settle, when he heard distressed murmurs coming from his room. Without hesitating he jumped from the sofa and ran up the stairs, not even bothering to throw his pants on, wearing just his shirt still stained with small splatters of blood. As he neared the door the murmurs became louder, more anxious and distraught, breaking his heart. How glad he was that he insisted with her father that she should stay with him, he wanted to be the one to care for her and take away all her distress. Besides, he wasn't quite ready to let her from his sight. If she was with him, she was safe.
