n// i know i got a few things out of order while writing this story just ignore it and take my word as cannon thank u baes! also the last chapter was met with such warmth and positive reception and let me tell u nothing on this planet makes me happier than that so thank you so much!!!!!! i do this all for u <3 enjoy!!
ps long chapter to make up for the long wait <33
The cool morning air was the thing that pulled Sybil Day from her slumber, the bite of it a stark contrast to the warmth of her lover. Sighing lightly, she looked up at him from where she laid, taking in all of him as he slept with their chests just barely touching. She loved him all the time, but there was something about waking up before the rest of the world and seeing her one and only in his most disarmed state. It was the only time he was ever truly relaxed. Even when it was just the two of them, Thomas always looked like he was ready to strike at any given moment.
Due to the recent events, Sybil couldn't really say that she blamed him.
But this was her favourite time of day, she reckoned. Her moment of solace, her favourite place to be. She loved the way the morning light streamed through the windows and cascaded onto his chiselled face, she loved how his arms encircled her, and she loved how his lips were just ever-so-slightly parted when he slept. She knew that this wasn't a usual occurrence, seeing as more and more often her Thomas opted for no sleep at all, or he was up before the sun, but when he did... she made sure not to miss it.
This was her sunrise.
It was always bittersweet when she eventually felt him begin to stir, and despite her desire to speak with the man she loved, she always wanted to stay in the moment forever. But if there was something Billie knew, it was that the sun always rose, and that she'd eventually have to come back down to earth.
"You're staring again." Tommy mumbled, not even opening his eyes.
Without missing a beat, Sybil replied with a simple: "Yeah, I am."
"Why?"
"Because I can. Because you're beautiful."
Tommy let out a small chuckle, the noise sounding deeper than it usually did due to his groggy state.
"Silly girl," he mused, finally opening his bright blue eyes. "Good morning, Sybbie."
"Good morning, Tom."
Placing a long, gentle kiss on her lips, Tommy smiled and leaned his forehead against hers.
"I love this," he whispered, almost like he was afraid of saying it aloud. "Waking up and the first thing I see being you. I've never loved anything more."
Sybil smiled as she felt his butterfly kisses against her cheeks, nuzzling her nose against his.
"All I've ever wanted was you, and you alone," he continued. "And now I have you. Sometimes I can't believe it. But moments like this... waking up with you in my arms, where you belong, makes me believe there is a God after all."
"And to think... there was a time where I believed in God but not love..." Sybbie mused. "How silly was I then, hm?"
"My silly girl, indeed."
They both let out hoarse laughs and placed gentle lingering kisses on each other's lips, smiling into each and every single one of them.
"What are you up to today?" Sybil asked, knowing that their impending doom of getting out of bed was growing nearer and nearer. "What does the day hold for Thomas Shelby, hmm?"
"Well," he sighed, seeming to be snapping out of his reverie as well. "I've got to deal with Polly, try and get through to Ada, and try not to get killed."
"You'll be lucky if you make it past nine o'clock."
The two shared a laugh, leaning so that their foreheads were touching and their noses were pressed up against one another's.
"What about you?" he asked, nudging his face impossibly closer to hers. "What's my Sybbie got on her agenda, eh?"
"Work, errands, chores, the youth of Birmingham running circles around me," she laughed, placing a kiss on his always waiting lips. "The usual."
"If they give you any trouble, let me know. I'll sort them out."
"My knight in shining armour." she rolled her eyes. "Protecting me from our biggest threat yet — children."
"If they're anything like us as kids, you might be right."
"I don't know who this us you're referring to is, but it sure as bloody hell doesn't include me, Thomas Shelby."
"You were more trouble than you let on to be, Sybil Day," he accused, smiling down at her. "Pressing outside books inside your school ones, skipping class to sit under that one tree and watch the clouds; you were a mad woman."
"Ah, yes, and you were just the boy who liked horses, hm?"
"The definition of all that is good."
"Definitely not the type to beat the living daylights out of his classmates."
"Never in a million years."
His grin was contagious as he leaned down, capturing her lips in his for the millionth time that morning, and it still wasn't enough. He didn't think there would ever be enough. But, just as she always was, Sybil was there to put his head back on his shoulders.
"Enough about school children and horses; don't you have some groveling to do?" she asked, pecking him on the lips for good measure before sitting up.
"Don't remind me."
Sybil laughed at the shift in his tone, getting up and walking over to her makeshift vanity that she'd managed during her time in Tommy's care. Tommy, on the other hand, just watched her go, admiring her as she began her day with the same amount of care she gave everything else. The way she got dressed, the way she pinned her hair back, even the way she put on her rouge — everything was intentional; every move planned out and well rehearsed throughout an entire adulthood of perfecting the routine.
Though, to be fair, she could do anything and he would find some sort of meaning in it.
With that thought, he rose from their bed and began dressing himself in his usual attire, already dreading what was to come of the day. And all too soon, he and his love were parting ways, and he was stood in the kitchen of the woman he was dreading most, Polly Gray.
"Did you speak to her?" he asked, looking up from his cigarette.
"She didn't speak back."
"Well, did you tell her?"
"I'll only tell her what I know to be true."
"It's the last time I'm going to say this. It wasn't me who shopped Freddie Thorne."
"Tommy. I'd ask you to swear on the Bible, but you can't swear on that, can you? Nothing you hold sacred."
Tommy watched in silence as she marched towards the door, before speaking the words that had her stopping in her tracks.
"Sybil." he spoke, eyes trained on the back of her head. "I swear on Sybil Day. That... that is who I hold sacred, Polly."
And with another moment's worth of hesitation, Polly continued out the door, parting with the knowledge that Tommy didn't call the cops on Freddie. But that just begged the question: who did?
The very same question was the one that weighed the heaviest on Tommy's mind as he sat at the bar at the Garrison, deep in contemplation, as he always did when he partook in such activities. He smoked, and drank, and pondered, and planned. It wasn't a peaceful existence, but when has anything ever been easy for him?
"Mr. Shelby?"
Apparently never.
"Who's asking?"
"My name's Byrne. I had word from your man in Camden Town that you wanted to parley."
"Then parley it is."
"A few months ago a man named Ryan came to this place with a view to buying some goods from you. Mr. Ryan was met with an accident. He was shot."
"I heard..."
"He was a man with a quick mouth. I know that. I wondered if he made any enemies in here."
"None that I know of."
"It's not the kind of place to make enemies."
"All are welcome here, Mr. Byrne."
"Including Irish?"
Tommy looked up from his drink for a moment, sparing a glance at the barmaid he once thought nothing of. He remembered Sybil's warnings, and he took them as truth. But just as quick as she met his gaze, he put it back down onto his drink.
"Oh, especially Irish."
Thomas Shelby was a man who was playing chess while the rest of the world was playing checkers. He listened as the man threatened him, ranting and raving about how Danny told the wrong people about the guns, and after solidifying the deal with the overzealous man in the Garrison, Tommy made his way over to the Chinese laundromat to meet up with none other than his enemy, Inspector Campbell.
"Malachi Byrne." he spoke, pointing at the picture of him in the paper. "Brigade commander of the South Armagh IRA."
"You hooked yourself a big fish there." Campbell nodded, taking his pipe from his mouth.
"Well, with these guns as bait, who knows what we'll catch?"
"'We'. Are you suggesting that you and I could work together as a team?"
"Perhaps you and I have more in common than you think, Inspector."
"Can you deliver him?"
"With your help. And I want word put out in Ireland that I was not involved."
"So I'd be solving a problem for you."
"And I'd be winning you that medal."
"If I get a medal, I'll engrave your initials on the backside."
"My initials on your backside," Tommy mused. "That's quite an image."
The Inspector shook his head and made a move to walk away, but was stopped by the man once more.
"Inspector, since we're getting along so well, can you answer me a question? Who gave you Freddie Thorne?"
"As everyone in the city knows, it was you, Mr. Shelby."
Tommy knew that for his next mission of the day, it was going to end up with him being killed by the IRA, or his Sybil Day. He was doing everything she warned him not to do: get in trouble, and bring the barmaid into it. But in his current situation, he really had no choice. And as he walked back to his home, he let his thoughts take over, knowing exactly what he needed to do, and dreading just that.
Oh, how much could change from one day to the next.
He knew. He didn't know how he knew — he reckoned maybe it was God letting him live just once more day — but he felt it. He was his mother's boy, after all. He could feel everything. Something bad was going to happen, and if his day were any indication of what it may be, he knew that he couldn't let Sybil be caught in the crossfire. Even if it meant abandoning their little piece of heaven and returning to the pits of hell.
Entering their home, he began packing her bag. He didn't bother with his things; he knew that Inspector Campbell would look for that. But as far as he knew, Sybil was a guest at his house. Something temporary, until she got over her fear of being alone. She'd be safe in her home, but not his.
The thought of it made him feel ill.
He avoided looking at her blissful form, slumped over her grading work for the evening, knowing that whilst his day was filled with murder and wrongdoings from alliances and barmaids and distress, hers was filled with the screeching and laughter and healthy trouble of youth who didn't know what world lied just outside the windows. What crime had she committed in a past life to deserve the love of a man like him?
Packing away the last of her possessions, Tommy wasted no time in waking her up, deciding to get it over with before the rug was pulled out from under his feet.
"Tommy?" she asked, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. "Oh, I must've fallen asleep whilst grading, how silly of me..."
Sybil let out a sleepy little laugh, expecting her man to roll his eyes lovingly and join her for a cup of tea. But upon taking in his state, she knew that there would be no such events.
"What's wrong?"
"You have to go," he responded quietly. "The sooner, the better. I'll explain everything later, but as for now, you have to go."
It was then when Sybil saw her bags, and although she knew this moment would come eventually, her heart still sunk.
"I'm going home, aren't I?" she asked quietly, trying her hardest to hide the heartbreak in her tone. "I've overstayed my welcome, I'm sorry, Thomas."
The last thing she needed was to make anything harder on her man.
"No, Sybbie," Tommy spoke, getting on his knees in front of the bed. "This is your home. Right here, with me, that is where you belong. But in order to keep it, protect it, I need you to lay low. It won't be long, love. Then, we'll move you right back here, where you belong, and then you'll never have to step foot in that place again. Sound good? Eh?"
Sybil nodded, sighing shakily. So much was happening so suddenly, but that was the price she paid for love, she supposed.
"I'm going to do some things, Sybil. Things that you're not going to like. Things that concern dangerous people. But all I ask is that you have faith in me; that you trust me. Can you do that?"
"Yes," she replied surely. "And all I ask is that you come home safe, Thomas. That's all I ask."
The two locked eyes, and Tommy could have sworn to her that he was invincible. That no harm could come to him. So, he did.
"I'll make sure of it."
That was all Sybil needed to remove herself from the comfort of their home and into his car, desperately trying to ignore the pit in her stomach as they made their way to her flat.
Sybil didn't know what to expect as Thomas unlocked the door of her flat and pulled it open, but it definitely wasn't what she was met with. Her flat was... just as she remembered it. Everything was in its place, it still smelled like her candles, and it even had some of her work that she'd taken home with her on her desk in the corner.
It was as if nothing had ever happened.
Sensing her unease, Thomas led her into her bedroom, prying her eyes away from where Archibald Hayes once laid in a pool of his own blood. Dropping her bags, he peeled back the covers to her bed and helped her in, detesting the sight of her without him already.
"It'll only be a little while, Sybbie." he reassured. "A few days at most. Just until I figure everything out, and the dust settles."
Sybil nodded, pulling the covers up to her chin, knowing she wasn't going to get any sleep that night.
"And just know, Sybil, that no matter what I say... no matter what I do... I don't mean it." he disclosed, sitting on the edge of her bed. "But for the time being... I need you to believe it; even if you aren't hearing it."
"I should have gotten these terms and conditions before I agreed to give you my blind faith."
"That's what faith is, isn't it?" he smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I've got to go, Sybbie, but I'll see you soon. I've got some things to attend to."
"Are these things that I'm allowed to know about? Or things best left unsaid?"
Thomas almost laughed at her question. If anyone were to get condemned with his love, it was a good thing it was Sybil Day. She was a little too good at being a criminal's love interest — it almost concerned Tommy.
"I'm going to have dealings with dangerous men. And then after that, Inspector Campbell is going to come for me. Don't ask me how I know, because I couldn't answer even if I wanted to. But he is going to come for me, and he is going to use all the power he's got to do so. But I'm going to get rid of that copper, Sybil. By any means necessary."
Sybil took him in for a moment, and nodded, knowing that that was more information then he was probably supposed to let on, and was grateful for it. Nodding, she gave him the signal that she was okay with where she was, and that he could go.
"Be safe, Thomas."
Pressing a kiss to her lips once more before he left, he ran his fingers through her hair and made sure she was tucked in securely before moving towards the door.
"I'll do everything in my power to do so," he promised. "I love you, Sybil."
"I love you too."
And with those parting words, Tommy left Sybil Day's flat through the back exit, and made his way into the Lion's den.
Banging on the door of the Garrison, Tommy waited impatiently for Grace to open the door, letting himself in as soon as the door was just barely cracked.
"I'll leave that open." he spoke, pointing to the door.
Grace, as dumbfounded as she was, couldn't help but be pleasantly surprised by the man's intrusion. Especially without his little lamb that seemed to follow him wherever he went. She watched as he rearranged tables and chairs, approaching the bar where she began to pour him his usual drink.
"No." he interrupted, shocking her further.
"Are you expecting trouble?"
"Yeah."
"At this hour?"
"Midnight is as good an hour as any."
Grace's eyes widened as he loaded a gun and placed it in front of her, trying her hardest to pretend like she's never held one, let alone killed a man with one.
"What the hell is going on?"
"When the St. Andrew's bell strikes midnight, two IRA men are going to come through that door. When they have what they want, they plan to kill me. It's your job to stop that from happening."
"You could have given me some more warning."
Truth be told, Thomas did consider having his Sybil help him. It was only for a split second, as his mind calculated all of the possible outcomes of the night, but it did cross his mind. It didn't matter to Thomas whether it was for a second or an hour — a possibility was a possibility and a thought was a thought. But as soon as the thought came, it left. He knew that he couldn't allow that for a multitude of reasons. Inspector Campbell, the immediate danger of it all, the IRA men putting a hit on her instead, and the fact that he didn't want any more blood on her hands than there already was to name a few. So, he was stuck with the wolf in barmaid's clothing.
And, oh, how he detested it.
"I just got the message myself." he clarified, loading another gun. "They want to meet here alone."
"And barmaids don't count?"
"No. Barmaids don't count." Thomas said stoically, his movements betraying his tone. "Now, you're gonna be in that back room. I'm going to be sitting there. When I make a toast, you're gonna come out with that thing raised. You don't shoot, you just point, I'll do the rest."
"Will you kill them?"
"No, the police want them alive."
At this new piece of information, Grace was floored.
"The police know about this?"
"Look, just hold it up. Just point. Right? All right, go. Go on, go!"
Tommy rushed and got glasses and his table sat up, waiting anxiously as the St. Andrew's bell rang through Birmingham. And within less than a minute, the IRA men came strolling through the open door, like they owned the place. Keeping his composure, Tommy poured a glass, sliding it to one of the men, who promptly slid it back.
"Lost your thirst, eh?" he asked, staring him down.
"Just show us where." the one from earlier spat.
Reaching into his breast pocket, Tommy fished out a folded up piece of paper, holding it up in front of them.
"Give me the cash."
The IRA man slid over a busted envelope with the money over to Tommy wordlessly, and, as promised, he gave them the map.
"You're going to need a shovel."
And, just as he knew they would, the Irishmen shared a grin before drawing their weapon, and pointing it directly at him.
"You thick fucking tinker," the ginger man chided. "Did you think we'd let you live?"
"Make your peace, Mr. Shelby."
Tommy sighed, knowing that this night wasn't going to end well for any party involved. And if he were being quite frank, he'd had enough of gingers thinking that they can threaten him.
"I will make my peace in my own way." he spoke, picking up the glass and letting Grace know that it was almost time. "To barmaids who don't count."
And as soon as those words were uttered, Grace emerged from the back, shooting and killing the ginger man with the gun. Immediately, the other man sprang into action, leaving Thomas no choice but to retaliate. Throwing him against the bar, he tried to rid the man of his gun, resulting in Grace being hit in the process. Grappling to the floor, the man gets the upper hand on Tommy, choking him out and consequently sending him back to his near death experience in the tunnels back during his time in France. And before Tommy could even realize what he was doing, he had beaten the man to death.
Panting, he glanced over at the barmaid and stood up, walking over to her and helping her up. He looked at her, running a finger over her injury, before pulling her in close.
"Why did you shoot?" he asked, voice shaking. "Why did you shoot, Grace?"
"I didn't know I had it in me like that." she cried.
Resting his forehead against hers, he looked her in the eyes, blue to blue, and spoke the words that shook her to her core.
"Now you've seen me."
"And you've seen me." she whispered, trying to hold herself together. "I'm sorry."
Tommy pulled her into a hug, letting her come undone on his shoulder, listening to the sounds of the police finally coming through the Garrison. Letting her go, he turned to face the policemen with wild eyes.
"You were supposed to come on the sixth chime. You were supposed to come in on the sixth fucking chime!"
Thomas leant on the bar as the cops took in the scene, letting his eyes float up to the ceiling.
"They refused to surrender." he lied. "They fought well. They were brave men."
"Well, he looks like he was killed by a wild fucking animal." the policeman snarled. "Still. This never happened and they were never here. Who cares?"
"Get the bodies out of here."
"All right, are they making the lady uncomfortable? I'll leave you two love birds to it, then, eh?"
Thomas could have killed another man with his bare hands at the thought of him calling Grace his lover, but for the sake of his plan, he let it stand. Grace knew that if he were taken, he would have corrected him and left alone. He had to be smart, no matter how badly it disgusted him.
And that was exactly how he ended up walking the barmaid home, sharing a cigarette outside her flat.
"Thank you." she spoke, passing it to him after she took a drag.
"I'm sorry." he replied.
And with that, he stalked off into the night, knowing that the next phase of his plan was coming into motion.
He was going to get rid of that Inspector, and then, he was going legitimate.
All with Sybil Day right by his side.
n// this was Not proofread so im sorry for any mistakes!!! also please let me know your thoughts i've missed u all so dearly <33 hope u are all safe and well and loved bye!