Ocean eyes meet mine, crisp and cold, but also warm and welcoming. Tommy and I are across from each other, he stands by the stove, bent over in search of a kettle.
I feel like telling him to check by the pantry, something tells me it might be by there. But I don't fucking know. The thought makes me chuckle, I don't know anything about this place I once called home.
He had asked me if I wanted to eat anything, to which I weakly nodded. He whipped up some eggs, laughing as he said, you were the one who taught me how to make these.
What, eggs? I asked, overlooking him as he undercooked my scrambled eggs. He didn't even season them, for Christ sake.
Yeah. He gloats, I didn't know how to cook before you. You called me a no good twat, if I do recall.
I was baffled, but now, as I watch him get irritated, I can tell he has no clue of what to do or how to act. No, instead, I can see that this massive house does not only belong to him and I. But also a pack of maids and cooks, there must be several housekeepers, given how large a space this is.
I lean over the counter, propping my elbows on the cold marble. Finished my eggs. "What is that you do?"
"What do you mean?"
"As a career." I toy with the words.
He turns around, raising an eyebrow at me. "You don't remember?"
A question with another question. He's that type of person, deceptive.
"I forget." I reply.
"My family and I, you, we own a business." He breaks into a shy smile, clearly he's being modest, by the look of his face, we own a bloody empire.
"Hmm." I nod, looking around. "A big business, I reckon."
"We're doing well." He pulls his eyebrows together, studying me. "I basically built this house with you, you don't remember that?"
I want to say yes, of course I remember but as I look around, I cannot place my thoughts or memories in this house. I feel almost lost, my mind pulls towards the thoughts of little ones running around the house. My stomach flips, please tell I don't remember having children because I don't have any.
I hold my breath. "Do I—we have children?"
He shakes his head. "We've tried but-"
"Oh." I look down, happy and sad. Like Cathy. Cathy! "Where's my little sister Cathy?" My eyes shoot up at his.
"Cecilia," Tommy stares at me, stopping what he's doing. "Fuckin' hell." He looks away, rubbing the back of his head.
My eyebrows pull together. "What? What is it?"
"She had the flu. It killed her just before you and I got married. Absolutely broke you in half." Tommy's face reads more sadness than I have seen before.
I fall back against my chair, dumbfounded, I am shocked to feel no real feeling of sorrow as I look at him.
"I feel like I already knew that." Just like mum, I press my lips together. "Just like mum?"
"Yes." He nods, processing my words. "Your mum passed away from the Spanish flu, but that was years after Cathy-"
"Died? I know." I swallow, licking my lips. "I remember certain things, the photographs really helped."
His mouth opens, he stares at me shocked. "That's wonderful." He coughs out.
"Why do you think this happened to me?" I can feel my heart pang, as if I know this answer. As if I know better than to ask. But it's too late for me to turn back now.
He starts, slowly making his way towards me. "It's my fault. I've created enemies who've threaten me, threatened you."
I hold my breath as he reaches out for me, slowly, Tommy's hand stretches over my bare knees, "I never thought they would take you away though. 'Lia, you were gone for a month."
"And you," My eyes water. "You couldn't find me?"
"No." He admits. "I couldn't."
"Why not?" I ask him, shaking my head as a tear falls from my eye. I lean in our noses so close to touching. "You should have looked harder..."
"I know." He said, nodding. Thomas slowly reached for my chin, and gently his thumb over my chin. "God, I was awake for weeks searching for you."
My eyes look behind Tommy, looking at the knife that sits on the counter behind him. I have an impulse to go towards it, piercing the sharp blade into his neck. A voice comes to me, the voice of an Irish man who presses his mouth against my neck.
Tears ran down my face as he kisses me softly, his hands sliding under my dress. He had taken the headphones off of me and told me to repeat the words: kill Thomas Shelby over and over again. And like a robot, he had programmed me to somehow do that this morning.
Kill Thomas Shelby.
And whenever I refused, he would put the headphones back on my ears and force me to listen to the screaming sound.
The knife that sits on the counter is tempting, but what's more tempting is the man who stands before me, touching my chin with a sad smile on his face.
"An Irish man took me." I whisper, right before remembering the loud sound of a gunshot. The marketplace! The marketplace! "I was in a market when I was taken." The fresh smell of flowers and Philip's laugh as he told me a story about how much his wife loved roses. "And Philip!" I gasp, my hand flying up to my mouth. "Philip!" He was shot and killed. "Oh my God!"
"How are you able to remember-"
"I don't know." I murmur. "Does Philip's wife know?!" I whisper staring into Tommy's blue eyes.
"Of course she knows." Tommy nods. "Do you remember who it was who took you?" He gets really serious.
"I-I can't put a name or face to the voice." Everything from then on is a blur.
"That's okay, my love." Thomas leans in and kisses my forehead. He puts his hand behind my head. "I'm so proud of you."
I freeze until he gets off of me. Despite him feeling like home, I still have my limits. Limits I'll need to put to the back of my mind soon, whether I like it or not, I want to remember everything.
"I can't understand why this happened to me..." I tell him, once he pulls back. My eyebrows pull together.
"That's the only way people can get to me. Is through you." Thomas's blue eyes meet mine. "They tried to hurt you to get to me, but I'll never let anything like that happen to you again, 'Lia." He looks at me, and this time a weird feeling raced over me. "I'll keep you safe. I made that promise a long time ago to you, and I'm sorry I let you down. That was the first and last time, I swear. I won't let anything ever happen to you again."
I reach for him, without considering it and press my lips against his. It's the thought that drove me to madness and as I kiss him, do I feel his lips still before, finally, he kisses me back. I shut my eyes, remembering the buzzing sound, the screams from the headphones. My hands ball up into fists that fall over his chest, my heart races against my chest. I try to get my brain to settle, and my heart to want this man as badly as he wants me.
My lips stop moving and he quickly retracts. "'Lia," he begins, grabbing my wrist to pull me off of him.
The fists that rest over his chest soften as my hands span over chest, the muscle under his skin
"No! Kiss me." I beg against his lips. "Please."
"-But." He whispers. Thomas pulls away and looks at me. "You sure?"
"I want to remember." I tell him quietly before leaning in again. And this time he doesn't hesitate.
I inhale as his hands move down my hips, his fingers glide over my legs, parting them so that he can get close to me. He opens his mouth just as I do, and I can taste him. It's familiar, he is a familiar. I wrap my arms around his neck, getting awfully comfortable as he stands between my legs. Slowly, he reaches down my legs and encourages me to wrap my legs around his torso, and I do so.
We fall into place quite well, him and I. As my hands roam his body and his touch gets normal to me, I am surprised to hear a moan come out of my mouth as his hands gently run up and down my thigh.
"God, I love you." He tells me, moving his lips down my neck. He inhales, grabbing a handful of my hair before moaning. "I've missed you so much."
My entire body gets hot in that second. So hot that I'm thrown back to the past with Tommy and I. When we were foolish teenagers. A time when we were first dating, when he held my hand in his and kissed the back of my knuckle. He had told me for the first time, I love you, he said, do you hear me?
I pull away from him and look at him. "Thomas,"
When he looks at me I don't see this monster he thought he was. Instead I see the man that bought me flowers on our first date and told me endlessly how beautiful he thinks I am. I see the man who wouldn't hurt a bee because of how much he appreciates that they do for this world. I see the man who cried while telling me stories about his dead mother and how scared he is of becoming a dad. I see the man who holds my hand tightly while we walk over the ice during brittle winters. The man who reminds me to have an umbrella just in case it rains. The man of my dreams, and the man I was lucky enough to wake up to. Tommy.
You're nothing like your father and you won't be anything like your father to our baby.
That was the last thing I said to him before I was taken. As my fingers drag over his skin, I open my eyes and exhale. I remember.
His hands are in my hair, and he asks with wary eyes, "Why are you crying?"
I blink, what? His fingers run over the side of face, I feel the dampness and swallow. I've been crying.
"Did I hurt you?" He pulls away immediately after the thought makes its way into his head.
"No!" I argue. "No." I repeat. My hand rests over his shoulder as he stands in front of me. Stay.
"Then what is it?" He searches my eyes.
"I-" I'm speechless, he's making me speechless. I can't even think of the words to say. "I-"
"Did we have a conversation the morning I was taken about you being like your father." I whisper. "That you were scared to become a father."
He pulls away. "You remember that?"
I nod, almost embarrassed. I feel like I overheard that conversation or something. My heart beats out of my chest.
"Oh my god," He leans in and smells divine, I take a deep breath, staring into his beautiful eyes. "Sometimes bad things happen to good people." He kisses my finger. "That's what you said. You said I would never be like my dad. No matter how hard I wanted to."
I hold my breath, looking at his lips. Even if I don't remember all of that, I believe him. Trying to piece together this relationship, I slowly look around before staring at the pantry.
"Did I spend a lot of time here?" I ask.
Thomas's head turns to the pantry before he looks at me. "Yes. You probably spent most of your time in this kitchen. Here and the garden."
Garden? I lick my lips that still tingle from the way Tommy kissed me. "I think the kettle might be in the pantry, then."
He smiles as I turn to him. He slowly walks towards the pantry cabinet and opens it before revealing the kettles.
Yes! He looks at me with happiness in his eyes. "You're gettin' so much better, already!"
"The garden." I say without much thought. "Take me to the garden."
accurate representation of Tommy and Cecelia before she was TAKEN.