Summary: Tommy last saw you before the war, he never thought he would see you again. But what brings you back to him, gives him no joy, and yet, there is something he can do to help. And nothing will stop him.
Word count: 1835
A/N: This fic was purely inspired by the gif above. I just love it. It's one of my fav's. Credit goes to the creator.
Warnings: This is a heavy fic, proceed with caution. Mentions of domestic abuse. Violence in the family setting and descriptions of physical injuries. Some swearing
A/N: Please feel free to send me a message or comment, I would love to know what you think.
The last time Tommy saw you, was the day he enlisted. He broke your heart that day, and in turn, you broke his, remembering it as if it were only yesterday. Dressed in his brand-new uniform, he came to you asking for your hand in marriage. And instead of saying yes, he stood there helplessly as you took in his uniform, watching all the colour drain from your features as a stream of tears trailed down your cheek, before turning around and walking from his life. You left Small Heath. You left Birmingham. Left your whole life behind to run away and forget him. To pretend he never existed, in a bid to avoid the heartache when the dreaded yellow telegram was delivered to your door, so sure you were that he would not return. Just like the telegram your mother received, just three months after your father left for the battlefields of South Africa. And in a way, you had been right. The man that left Birmingham barely resembled the one that returned.
Maybe a part of him did die; left behind and buried in those dark suffocating tunnels beneath the battlefields of France. Gone forever. Or maybe that part of him died the moment you walked away and left him standing in his uniform under your favourite oak tree, a tree that until that moment, had been a place of only beautiful memories. Maybe he would never know when that part of him died. But what he did know, was that when his eyes saw you sitting by the fire in his kitchen, after years of thinking he would never see you again, he felt a jolt in the long-lost regions of his heart.
Tommy had been home from France for less than a year, and he had not heard a word about you. He didn't go searching for any either; it was too painful. Of course, he still saw your family around the streets of Small Heath, and they were a constant reminder of you, dredging up all those sweet memories and the heartache that still burnt raw in his chest. Because Tommy still loved you. He would always love you. No number of women, whores, barmaids or otherwise, could ever change that. It was a permanent thing. All he could do, was let you be, and hope you found the peace and happiness that he knew he would never find without you.
The evening had not been a good one. Like every other night, Tommy's sleep was plagued by the nightmares he lived through, day and night, during his time in France. Finding himself sitting on the edge of his bed, his chest heaving and forehead covered in sweat, he heard the panicked voice of Curly calling out his name from the street below. Throwing his clothes on, Thomas rushed out into the pouring rain, where Curly took him to Charlie's yard to find his horse lame and cursed by the bloody Lee's, leaving him with no other choice, but to shoot the damn thing. And it was while he was gone, that you arrived under the cover of darkness, taken in by Polly to warm up with a whisky and dry by the fire.
Walking into the house, he heard Polly's muffled voice coming from the kitchen, and he thought for a second that maybe Ada had come to her senses and come home. But upon stepping through the kitchen door, he found himself staggering and faltering on his feet. Tommy thought he was seeing things. There you sat, beside the fire with your back facing him, but he knew it was you. Even after five years, he could pick you from a crowd of thousands on a foggy day. You wouldn't look at him; or couldn't look at him, leaving your eyes firmly planted on your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. A rush of blood pumped hard and fast threw his veins, the thumping resounding in his ears, making it hard to think. But he needed to see your face. Stepping into the kitchen, he was stopped by Polly, when she spoke, "She had nowhere else to go, Tommy."
Tommy felt his body stiffen, what did Polly mean? "Y/N?" he said, stepping closer, wanting you to turn around. But still, you wouldn't, and it did nothing to quell the rising unease taking hold of him.
You didn't reply, your gaze dropping even closer to your lap and Polly took the chance to speak for you, "It's the only place he can't find her. He doesn't know about us."
"For fuck's sake, Polly... Who?" Tommy yelled, impatient to know what was going on. But the moment he raised his voice, you recoiled in your chair and his heart dropped.
"Who do you think, Tommy? Y/N's husband." Bile bit at the back of his throat, not liking the direction of this information. What had he done to you?
With a deep breath, Tommy sat down at the table, hoping it would put you a little more at ease, his voice much softer than before, "Y/N?"
Lifting your head, you barely looked at him from the corner of your eye and spoke for the first time, "I'm sorry Tommy... I didn't know where else to go. But I understand if you don't want me here."
Tommy's unease intensified, your speech was almost slurred, and you clearly weren't intoxicated. "Y/N... will you please look at me?" Hesitation gripped you, he saw the jagged motion of your breath and the way you chewed on your lip, but he persisted, "Y/N, please."
Slowly, you turned your head and his mouth ran dry, his eyes tortured at the sight. This whole time you didn't want to look at him because you were trying to hide the side of your face. It was unrecognisable. Your eye was so swollen you were unable to open it and the corner of your mouth was split and your lips busted, restricting your ability to speak. Tommy felt sick. What kind of monster would do this to the woman they were supposed to love... to any woman? What kind of animal would hurt you... you of all people?
Tommy fought his rage, he wanted to stay calm for you, but the horror in his eyes gave him away. With a deep breath, he stood up and dragged his chair to sit in front of you and his night only got worse. On closer inspection, your hands weren't fidgeting at all. You cradled one hand in the other as it seemingly sat paralysed in your lap. Long forgotten instincts took control and Tommy reached forward to cradle your cheek; he wanted to comfort you, care for you. But you flinched, and his heart broke all over again, making him want to squeeze the life out of the monster who did this to you. A man he had never met, he wanted him dead; forever gone, never to see the light of another day. And he would make it so, of that, he had already decided.
With gentle hands, Tommy inspected your arm, finding the fracture just below your elbow. It was a bad break and there was lots of swelling, it would not be an easy fix. Turning to Polly, he said, "Call for the doctor."
"It's already done. I sent Arthur for him the minute I opened the door and saw her."
Turning back to you, Tommy reached for your face again, this time much more cautiously and to his joy and relief you didn't flinch, instead you leaned into his touch. With a gentle thumb, he caressed your cheek, holding your gaze with an intensity that almost burned, his voice soft and yet, never more fierce, "You don't need to worry, he's never going to touch you again."
Just like the last time he saw you; under the oak tree, a stream of tears trailed down your cheek, only this time you let him wipe them away. But the tears kept coming as you slowly shook your head back and forth, your voice shaking and apprehensive, "Tommy, I don't care what happens to me."
Tommy couldn't believe what he was hearing, it broke him, made him angry; how could you not care? Just looking at you hurt his insides. "Wha... What do you mean, you don't care?"
Taking a moment, you inhaled deeply, trying to stop your tears, but the action caused you pain and Tommy could only assume that your ribs must be covered in bruises. And the growing urge to end the man that did this to you intensified, not wanting to simply end him, but to end him slowly. After a moment of silence, you finally answered, "He hurt my little boy... He struck him so hard with the back of his hand that he... he went flying into the wall." It was then, that you fell apart and your tears took control, rolling through your body in a string of monopolizing waves, barely allowing you to get your words out. "He... he has never touched him be... before... It... it's my fault, I should have left soon... sooner... Tommy, I ca... can't let him do that again."
It felt like someone had pulled the rug from under his feet; you had a son to this animal of a man. But it didn't change a thing, he would make you safe... and he would make the boy safe too. Moving your hair from your face, he cradled the back of your head and asked, "Where is he, Y/N... where's your boy?"
Polly answered for you, giving you a chance to collect yourself, but her words only seemed to upset you more. "He's upstairs, sleeping in my bed. The poor thing is bruised and has a decent cut on his head, but nothings broken... He'll be fine."
Gently lifting you to your feet, Tommy held you to his chest. He was still soaking wet, but you didn't seem to mind. Whispering soothing words against your ear he felt the erratic thumping of your heart slowly subside, and the heaving motion of your tears slow to a crawl. Because you were safe... you felt safe within his arms, and Tommy could barely comprehend how right it felt. He never thought he would ever hold you again, but here you were and you needed him. How he wished it wasn't under these circumstances, but how glad he was, that it was him you came to. With an almost weightless touch, he held your face between his hands, wanting to make sure you caught every one of his words, his eyes never more intense. "There's no need for anymore tears. Everything is going to be alright. He will never hurt you... or your boy again." And with a deep breath, he kissed your forehead, speaking just five more words before Arthur came through the door with the doctor, but never meaning any five words more.
"I will not allow it."
Please feel free to send me a message or comment, I would love to know what you think.