Thomas Shelby Fanfics

I'll Come Back For You (Part 2)

Setting: post-war, pre-season 1

word count:6457 (longest as of 29.2.20)

smut: yes

proofread: no

edited: no

notes: ANGSTY!! There's a bit of violence triggered by PTSD, panic attacks. Soft and smutty moments mentions of war obviously. It's a good blend I think :) Lots of you wanted a part 2 and here it is!! I hope you all like this, I kinda went overboard again, but I had a lot of fun writing it. ENJOY!!!

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Four years it took them. What you had thought would only last a couple of months dragged up to four years. Your mother had sadly passed away during this time, having fallen deathly ill. You sat by her bedside as she coughed her lungs up until one morning, you couldn't hear her raspy breaths anymore and knew it was time. You had grown to acknowledge she would pass but hadn't expected it to be so soon. Tom wasn't there to comfort you either, so you were stuck by yourself in your home. Sometimes, Polly would see you exhausted and invite you round for tea after closing up. Like she had for the Shelby's, she became a mother figure to you. You were really close since you spent all-day in the betting shop with her, that you got to know a lot about the Gypsies. She'd even taught you a bit of Romani, and you'd found yourself easily slipping into the dialect when stressed.

"What's on your mind now, (Y/N)?" She asked curiously, standing from her paperwork and walking to you. You sighed, throwing the stack of money on your table and rubbing your eyes tiredly,

"I keep loosing fucking count," You said, "I can't think straight... I... There's too little going on!" You huffed, standing from the desk and pacing back and forth, combing your (Y/H/C) through your fingers,

"Why?" Polly asked, sitting on the edge of your messy desk and smoking a cigarette,

"Because... Because I haven't heard from Tom in ages," You said, tears falling down your cheeks rapidly. You sighed shakily and covered your face in your hands. You remembered how in the beginning, he'd try cheering you up. The letters the three of you received from the boys were full of light at first, but they began to darken as the months dragged on. The last truly happy letter you could recall was about Christmas. Everyone got out of the trenches and they played football across no man's land. He had also sent you a German chocolate bar. It was wholesome and gave you false hope- all his letters after that did. You saw lots of passages missing and elements of the letter didn't make sense.  It wasn't until a recent letter did he write in Romany, that they were checking and censoring anything that would expose the atrocities of war. It shocked you but explained everything. When you informed Polly and Martha, they understood too, finding a lot of things made sense now. Pol sighed and stood, stumping the cigarette out into your ashtray. She hugged you gently, stroking your hair in comfort,

"Tommy's alright, (Y/N). I promise,"

"But you say that all the time, Pol," You said, crying more, "How are you always so sure?"

"I just know," She said softly. She pulled away and touched your cheek comfortingly, before sighing, "If you want me to convince you... God... I think I remember where we put them..." She said to herself, letting you go and walking to the living room. You grabbed a tissue and waited for her in the kitchen. Like a child at Christmas, she came in with a wooden box, sitting opposite you at the table. You smiled as you watched her pull out a deck of old, worn cards and begin to shuffle them manically,

"Are we playing something? I should get some whiskey and call Martha. She loves a good game of Rummy,"

"No no, that's fine. But grab some whiskey," She said, spreading them out and mixing them. You grabbed the 2 glasses and poured you each a drink, before sitting and drinking from yours already, watching Pol even out the cards, "I'm goin' to read you," She said, giving you a quick glance, before looking down at the cards,