Tommy paced the hospital hallway in fury. He was vaguely aware that he was still drenched in her blood. He was vaguely aware of his brothers sat on the chairs, glancing at him nervously.
"Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?" Tommy asked, not bothering to hide the gun in his hand as a nurse finally emerged from the operating room.
Her eyes widened as she saw the weapon. "Are you family?" She asked, voice trembling.
"I'm her fucking husband." The last time Tommy had said Kimber was his wife, it had sent a column of shivers down his spine. Now, he only felt hollow. The words an empty reminder of the life they could have had, the life he'd fucked up for them.
The nurse softened a little. "We're doing everything we can," she said gently. "She's lost a lot of blood... gone into shock."
"But she'll live?" Tommy asked.
The nurse didn't answer. But Tommy saw it all over her face.
"They've asked me to let the morgue know... have them prepare. Just in case," she said quietly. She pressed a hand over Tommy's, still warily eyeing the gun. "I'm sorry."
He stood lifeless as she left. All the colours drained away from his surroundings. His fury and rage had dissipated, replaced with... with what? What could he name this emptiness, this nothing and everything, this numb feeling and burning, excruciating pain? He had nowhere to put it. Every flame in his body that had burned for Kimber now thirsted for fuel.
"It's not over yet, Tom," Arthur said quietly. "You know what she's like. She won't go without a fight."
***
Three torturous hours later, and the surgeon finally emerged from the room. Tommy moved in front of the man, blocking him from going anywhere until he spoke. Tommy's chest was hammering. His hands were slick with sweat. In the war, he'd been able to throw himself into action, focus on surviving. There was no surviving this.
"She's stable," the surgeon said. Tommy's stomach flipped. "We managed to keep her alive. She's lost a lot of blood. She'll need to be in with us for a couple of days, and she'll be heavily sedated, unable to talk. After day two, she can go home. We'll provide a nurse."
"No need," Tommy said. "My sister can take care of her."
The surgeon nodded. "Very well."
***
Tommy held Kimber in his arms the whole drive to Ada's house. She was still sleeping, still on heavy medication. Tommy had her lying across his lap, her head in his arms. He watched her, checking she was still breathing. He was shaken.
It had felt good to murder the man who did this to her. But not good enough. Tommy thought he'd been too quick, hadn't made him suffer for days on end, half-alive.
Some part of Tommy's brain had broken. A part he kept locked up and hidden away. Refused to allow to exist. It had cracked and broken, and was now being reforged. It was like the woman in his arms suddenly magnetised him to the earth, had suddenly become the most important thing that existed.
"What have you done to me?" He murmured, so quietly Ada could not hear from the driver's seat. "How did you get so deep under my skin, eh?"
He brushed strands of hair from her face.
He needed her to wake up.
***
Ada's books were all shit. He thumbed through the novels, listening intently for any movement or noise from Kimber's bed on the other side of the room. Finally, he pulled one of the few books that wasn't some political manifesto, and sat on the armchair beside the bed. He began to read, his voice quiet in the bedroom.
Not even three chapters in, and she stirred. Tommy silenced at once, watching her. Her eyelids flickered open. Her eyes were glossy, sleepy. He'd been waiting for this moment for days, but now it had come, found himself suddenly breathless. Unable to speak.
She opened her lips, ready to say something. He waited.
"What the fuck?" She mumbled.
Tommy smiled, in spite of himself. He laughed quietly. "What the fuck, indeed."
She looked at him, or tried to, with her distant eyes. "Tommy?" she asked, scrunching her nose. "What are you doing here?"
He swallowed. Thinking what to say.
"Have you come to have your way with me?" She sighed, dropping her knees. "Because I don't mind."
Fucking hell. She really was medicated. Tommy reached for her hand, slipping his fingers between hers. She gave a small sigh of contentment.
"No, love," he finally said. "I'm taking care of you."
"You don't take care of anything except business," she replied. "And I'm not business. I'm Kimber."
He chuckled. "Yes, you are." He kissed her hand softly. "Are you in pain?"
"I feel great," she said dreamily, then tilted her head. "Why? Should I be?"
He didn't want to worry her, not when she was so carefree and unguarded. But he knew she'd never forgive him if he kept it from her. That she'd only be angrier in the end.
"Love," he said, "you're at Ada's house. You've come from the hospital. After you were attacked at the Grand National."
He watched her carefully, anxious for any sign of distress. She thought for a moment.
"That's right," she smiled, closing her eyes. "Haha. I'd almost forgot."
Bloody hell. He'd need to have a word with Ada about the dosage of barbiturates she was giving.
"You're not worried?" He murmured, running his thumb across her palm.
"Why would I be worried?" She said dreamily, linking her fingers back through his own. "You're here with me."
His stomach fluttered at her words. Fuck, it would be so easy to continue like this, but he couldn't lie to her. Not after last time. If he had any hope of deserving her, he needed to tell her everything. Even if that meant losing her forever.
"There's something else, sweetheart," he murmured, terms of endearment falling easily from his lips.
"Let me guess. John's here. Ohh, I hope he brought whiskey." Her eyes flew open at that and she blinked, trying to push herself upright.
"Lie down," Tommy said, guiding her back gently. "And no John, I'm afraid. Or his whiskey."
"You're no fun."
Tommy squeezed her hand tightly in his own. "It's Michael." She glanced at him in concern. "He's my cousin. I got him the job in your company. Told him to keep an eye on you."
She stilled, considering the words. Tommy held his breath. He waited for the onslaught, or the tears. He dreaded them both.
A smile erupted across her face. She giggled. "Michael... my Michael... is a Peaky Blinder?"
"He's Polly's son. We found him again."
Her smile broke even wider as she struggled to contain laughter. "You're fucking joking."
"No, love, I'm not."
She tilted her head back and laughed, struggling for breath. Tommy glanced nervously at the door. If Ada could hear this, he'd get a bollocking.
"I knew there was something up with him," Kimber said, wiping tears from her eyes. "I thought about having him tailed. Imagine that! Haha. Fucking Michael. Peaky Blinder..."
"I think you'll feel differently about it once the medications gone from your system," Tommy said.
She quieted then, her gaze turning more serious than it had been so far. She looked him in the eyes and Tommy thought he saw a flash of her, of his true Kimber, in them.
"And what about you?" She asked. "Will you feel differently then, too?"
"I've had a lot of time to think," he murmured. "I almost lost you. I don't ever want to experience that again."
"Then don't," she whispered. Her eyes glossed over again, and she settled her head back on the pillow. "Just come here and fuck me instead."
Tommy's eyes flashed with amusement. "I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this."
"Please," she begged.
He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "No, love. You're not in the right frame of mind. I want you consenting and able to remember each time I fuck you. And I think you'll find, you'll be in a lot of pain when this wears off."
"I hate when you make sense," she grumbled.
A knock came at the door. Ada came in, fresh syringe on a tray.
"Ada!" Kimber said, glazed eyes widening in joy.
"Half the dose this time, Ada," Tommy said curtly.
Ada bit back a smile of amusement. "I thought I heard someone laughing."
"That was me," Kimber said. "Ada, you're never going to believe this... Michael's your cousin."
Ada turned her head, pretending to fuss with the syringe to hide her amusement. "Is he?" She choked out.
"I might have to kill him," Kimber said happily, settling back on her pillow.
Ah, fuck. There it was. But Tommy only held her hand still, knowing however angry she'd be when she wasn't high, it was better than having her senses so altered.
"This might pinch," Ada warned, administering the dose.
Kimber smiled happily, eyes closed. Ada packed up the supplies.
"Tommy?" Kimber asked, her voice beginning to slur as she was lulled back to sleep.
"Yes, love?"
She murmured something, but it caught in her throat, and she was out cold once more.
Tommy dipped his head. "I love you, Kimber," he said, as Ada left the room. "I love you with everything I have."