The next week and a bit had gone by quickly for Sybil, yet agonisingly slow at the same time. She had (for the most part) healed, and she'd started working again. The kids were happy to have their favourite teacher back, and the school she worked at was more than happy to find that they weren't under the watchful eye of the Peaky Blinders anymore. She'd gone back to her normal routine, and couldn't be more glad about it.
However, she also knew that things weren't the same. Wherever she turned, there was something to remind her of the Shelby boy's little stay.
The chair he sat in as he kept watch over her when she slept. The rag he'd wrapped the ice in. The cup and saucer that he'd used for her tea. The frame he'd leant on when he found her in the bathroom, crying. Almost everything that she could see had it's own little Shelby mark on it now, especially the little note he'd left her as a goodbye.
Sybil and Thomas didn't exactly bond or reconcile their differences during his momentary stay at her place, but there was definitely something there that wasn't there before. A thankfulness. A newfound sense of respect for the both of them. Possibly something that neither of the two could put their fingers on, but it was something.
But Sybil quickly came to terms with the fact that it was a one time thing, and that she'd most likely never even come close to having something like that with Thomas Shelby ever again, and continued with her routine as she always did.
As for Thomas, his experiences since that night hadn't been so simple.
After he'd left Sybil Day's house that early morning, he went straight to the warehouse where John and Arthur had put the man who'd attacked the school teacher. He went there, beat the man, and then killed him. He killed that man for laying a hand on an innocent woman, a woman he had always secretly cared for, and he didn't regret a single moment of it. He'd do it a hundred times over, if need be. Because Thomas Shelby didn't think men like that deserved to live on the same planet as people like Sybil Day, and he'd kill any man that tried to hurt her again.
After that, he'd gone back to his routine, as well. Bookmaking, trading, thinking, substance abuse, fighting, and scheming. Except now he had a new step to his routine: check up on Sybil Day.
He would send a few of his men out every day to scope out her home, or her work, or see to it that she'd made it home safely. He couldn't help it. He knew he'd have no peace of mind if he didn't know she was doing alright, and this gave him that.
But after that a week or so of seeing the same familiar faces everywhere she went, Sybil put the peaces together. She was an intelligent woman, and if she was being honest, she was cutting a lot of it toward the beginning some slack. Blaming it on her newfound paranoia and alertness to everyone and everything around her. On the fact that she was looking out for her attacker everywhere she went. On the fact that her mind was probably just trying to fabricate some excuse to go see Thomas Shelby again. But she knew better. She knew that Thomas Shelby was sending people out to follow her around the town, because he didn't think she could take care of herself.
So, come Saturday morning, she marched herself right over to the man's workplace, through the boys with their peaked caps and protests, and went straight to the man himself.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" She asked, throwing the door open, a flustered looking John Shelby hot on her heels.
"'M sorry, Tom, she's like a fucking—"
"It's alright, John." Tommy cut off, silencing his brother while exhaling smoke from his cigarette. "Leave Ms. Day and I alone for a moment."
Nodding, John exited the room and shut the door, leaving the fiery woman and her icy counterpart alone.
"You look well," He spoke, looking up at her through his thick lashes. "I see you've healed up nicely."
"Yeah. I bet you have seen, seeing as you've got your loyal servants following me around, now." She sneered. "So I ask my initial question again: who the hell do you think you are?"
Sighing, Tommy closed the folder he was looking over, giving the girl his undivided attention.
"I wanted to check up on you."
"Yeah? Then do it yourself, like a normal person would."
"I'm not a normal person, Sybil."
"Well maybe you should act like one anyways."
The young woman was breathing harder now, brown eyes glaring into his soul.
"I'm not a little girl, Thomas," She spoke, keeping her words clipped. "I do not need your protection. I can handle myself just fine on my own. And if you're so concerned about me, how about you call? I'm sure you've somehow managed to get my contact information, as well, haven't you?"
"Sybil."
"I don't need your little army of toy soldiers stalking me, Mr. Shelby. I am a grown woman. A woman who doesn't need to be looked after, Thomas. Especially if it is being done all secret like behind my back."
"Sybil."
"You know, I thought I were going crazy at the beginning of it," She sighed, letting Tommy catch a glimpse of how exhausted she truly was. "The paranoia was eating at me. I didn't know what to make of it. I thought that— that man was coming to get me. But then I put the pieces together. I realised that they were your men. Your men, sent by you, to follow me around, like I am some sort of child! Well, I've got a piece of news for you, Thomas, I'm not!"
"Sybil!" He spoke, louder this time, startling the girl a bit. "I'm sorry."
"What?"
"I'm sorry." He repeated.
Sybil was running on adrenaline and anger when she came to talk to the man, so she didn't really know what to expect, but she knew that that was not it. From her understanding of the world (well, at least the Shelby version of it, that is) Thomas didn't apologise. Not to anyone, for anything.
At her silence, Tommy sighed and looked up at her, his stone like features contrasting her warm, softer ones.
"I wanted to make sure that you were safe, and that no one was harassing you further. I didn't have the time to do it m'self, so I sent some of my men to do it for me. Good men. Trusted men." He elaborated. "It was an act of protection. I am sorry if it offended you, those were not my intentions."
Despite his cold, business-like tone, Sybil felt herself feeling oddly at peace with his confession. He spoke deeply, not breaking their eye contact for even a second. He was being honest, from what she could see.
Either that, or he was a really good liar.
"Thank you," She got out eventually. "I, uh... I'm sorry for barging in like this. It's terribly rude of me, and I should've handled it more appropriately."
Tommy took a drag of the cigarette he'd been smoking when she'd first come in, staring at her intensely as he exhaled the smoke.
"You don't have to worry about that man anymore, Sybil." He reassured, changing the subject. "He'll not hurt you again."
"How do you know?" She found herself asking before she could think. "I feel like he's around every bleeding corner in Small Heath."
Tommy didn't answer, knowing that her reaction would not be that of the good variety. Instead, he stood, looked down at his Sybil Day, and repeated himself:
"He will not hurt you again."
His words were slower this time, and held a certain conviction that left Sybil with no other choice but to believe him.
Nodding, she returned his deep gaze, getting utterly trapped in his never ending sea of blue.
"I'll have one of my men walk you home." He stated, leaving no room for arguments. "I've got to get back to work."
"No need," She spoke, managing to sound cool despite what she felt on the inside. "I believe the whole point of my coming here was to get your men to stop following me everywhere."
Thomas stopped for a moment, going over her whole point in his head.
Part of him wanted to push her against the wall and have her then and there, another wanted to defy her wishes and send out the men anyways, the next wanted to say "fuck it" and walk her home himself, and the last wanted to respect her wishes. He was a conflicted man — but all of his conflicts at the moment seemed to revolve around one thing: Sybil's well-being. So, with a sigh, he settled with her.
"Of course," Tommy corrected himself. "Good day, Sybil."
Sybil, on the other hand, was also conflicted. Why? Because she wanted the same things that Tommy did, she was just too stubborn to admit it. She was (in some very deranged, odd way) flattered at the fact that he cared about her that much, and she couldn't help but feel safer than she ever had when he told that there was nothing that was going to hurt her. So, much like Thomas, she hid them.
But unlike Thomas, she offered the first hand in their companionship — whatever that may be.
"You can call me Billie," She spoke. "If you'd like, that is."
Tommy had to stop himself from smiling, fighting with all his might to keep his cool demeanour.
"Well, in that case, you can call me Tommy," He retorted, puffing out some smoke as he did so. "If you'd like, that is."
"Goodbye, Tommy."
"Goodbye, Billie."
n// wow i love my babies.