𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿: bloodsport.
𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗯𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 cage of her ribs. it drums so deeply in her chest that her pulse seems to tear out of her skin. she can hear the distinct lull of the gunman's irish accent as he breathes against her neck; an ira member no doubt. the cold barrel of the gun sends chills down her spine as he gently orders her to step deeper into the desolate alleyway behind them. she complies with no hesitation.
the alleyway is narrow and swollen with steam escaping the vents of the wash house next door. puddles of water stain diana's shoes and petticoats as the gunman draws her deeper into its recesses. she has no way of escaping. memories of the asylum intrude her thoughts, as does the haunting feeling of captivity. her body instinctively trembles at the trauma that gnaws at her insides.
"if you tell me what you know, this gun won't shoot through you. understand?" diana heaves out a flurried breath before reluctantly nodding at his demand. "we know you're connected to the peaky blinders. sources of mine have seen you meeting with thomas shelby at the garrison in the late evening. now rumours of guns are being brought up. i hope you have the common sense to tell me why tommy would be concerned with stolen guns from the bsa factory?"
"i don't know anything about that." diana stifles a shriek of pain as he pummels the gun barrel in between her shoulder blades which causes her to stumble forward. within a brief moment, the man grasps the neck of her blouse and wrenches her back up until he has her neck trapped within the nook of his right arm. he presses the barrel to her temple. "i swear to god, i don't fucking know."
"if you don't tell me the truth now, I'll take you in for interrogation on behalf of the irish free state — and if that happens, you're going to wish i buried this bullet in you." his words leave his mouth with bitter fury as he presses the barrel in deeper.
"my meeting with tommy had nothing to do with those guns. i have no affiliation with his family's business." diana speaks with urgency, her eyes peeling the alleyway for the slight opportunity for someone walking past. "it was strictly personal — i came back to small heath to rekindle our engagement. the ring around my neck was what he had given me that night at the garrison. if you don't believe me, he had our names engraved inside the band — you can check."
the gunman is still for a brief moment, digesting diana's words with suspicion. the severity of the gun pressed against her head doesn't cease as he refuses to remove his arm.
"you expect me to believe that tommy wouldn't tell his own fiancee about his business?"
"it's not a woman's place to know about such things." diana silently pleads for his grip to loosen as it presses relentlessly into her windpipe, causing her to splutter out a strained cough.
"if that's the honest truth, then you won't have any trouble holding up your story during interrogation. it's hard to lie when your face is bloodied and swollen."
his grip around diana's neck thrusts her back as he begins to haul her deeper into the alleyway. her shoes drag along the uneven cobblestones as she twists and pushes her body against his grasp. she tries to muster a scream with his arm jammed against her throat, but a large plump hand presses her mouth shut. sweat covers her forehead as she desperately attempts to free herself, but her body is too small in frame to match his. fierce determination claws the inside of her stomach as anxiety pools her insides. she is not helpless. she knows there has to be a way for her to escape.
then without warning, the sharp trill of a whistle pierces the air, breaking the struggle between the two in a moment of alarm. diana's eyes dart towards the far end of the alleyway to see a sudden burst of motion as people pour into the main street like a broken dam. the sound of police whistles echo further into the neighbouring avenues and diana is left to find she has no idea why.
the gunman's gut reaction causes him to loosen his grip against diana's throat as he stumbles back in nervous apprehension. diana spares no time to wonder whether a copper would come barging into the alleyway. instead, she barrels her heel into the gunman's knee and promptly snatches the firearm from his grasp as he flounders to the ground with a gutteral yell. she doesn't bury a bullet in his face in fear of being tracked down — she simply runs.
...
the day slowly passes with agony as law enforcement carry out a police raid across small heath. diana fears that if she returns to her lodging, agatha would surely turn her in out of fear. yet garrison lane lies beset with coppers skinning out each row home that lines the street. diana has no protection from the law who'd begun infiltrating each turn and sharp corner, and she was terrified that at any moment she could be questioned. she soon finds herself back in the huddled crowd of women occupying the wash house, accusations and fearful chatter echoing against the walls.
she hears the name shelby resonating in the air; their name being met with disdain as soon as it's mentioned. diana listens with grave curiosity as they exclaim how the peaky blinders could allow the police to commit such vile acts on its own people. the thought lingers in her mind; how could tommy let this happen? had a man who prided himself on being one with the people deserted his community during all of this? the thought doesn't press on her for much longer. diana knows tommy well enough to realise that this was not his doing.
she hears a new name being thrown between conversations. the name inspector campbell doesn't conjure a single memory or recollection; nothing to create a face for her to picture. diana is certainly painting him as a tyrant in light of the chaos brewing in the streets, and the idea of being caught radiates fear. this is a man that seems determined to face the wrath of the peaky blinders; a police raid is something she hadn't seen in small heath since she was a little girl. diana quickly grasps that she'd have no chance of remaining on the run if she were to ever cross his path: and she'd much rather take a bullet to her skull than return to hollymoor asylum.
diana manages to slip into the wash house after the police enters the premises; a room of wash tubs littering the floor, now covered in soapy water. in a near corner she spies a pile of her clothes scattered across the bench, thankfully untouched by the water pooling the ground. with a flustered sigh she goes to retrieve them. within the hour the sound of whistles and clamouring havoc outside have drowned out into nerve-racking silence, and diana makes the decision to leave.
her walk is somewhat aimless as she isn't quite sure where to head. the fear of being caught by police still scratches beneath the surface of her skin as she passes each street, and her heart still pulses frantically after the events that had unfolded before. the evening breeze brushes past, and the feeling of the gunman's barrel feels cold against her temple once more. it's in this fleeting moment of apprehension that she pictures tommy.
her younger self would have run straight to his house, knowing he'd have a gun to his head before dusk. she imagines his scent lingering in the crook of his neck as he pulls her into a tight embrace; a memory that diana shamefully clings onto from time to time.
it bothers her that she holds on to these past memories as a sense of comfort. it bothers her, because the warmth that comes from remembering them is fleeting; it doesn't take long to remember that those memories are dead. that the tommy she once knew and loved no longer exists, and the version of her that was capable of loving that deeply doesn't either. now all they have become are terrible people capable of doing terrible things, and there's nothing comforting in that.
yet despite this bitter truth, diana finds herself standing once more in the heart of garrison lane as if by muscle memory. she has to speak to tommy and ask him about what had happened. she needs an explanation. a few feet away she sees tommy's automobile nestled in the shed by the brick-faced betting shop. the streets are quieter than usual, yet the smell of rich tobacco still clings to the air, meaning the family had returned not long before. diana adjusts her grip on the sack of dried washing over her shoulder, and makes her way towards their semi attached house.
she knocks, more out of politeness than anything. the last time she had stepped foot in this house, was a time in which she was considered trusted enough to come and go just as family would. this time a heavy cloud of solemness hangs in the air, mixed with the thick smoke of burnt tobacco. she doesn't feel welcome, but under the current circumstances she doesn't particularly care.
the entryway into the kitchen is empty, except for tommy who sits anxiously perched at the end of his chair as if ready to leave at any moment. he rolls a near-finished cigarette between his thumb and index finger before putting it to his mouth as he looks up at her.
"the door was closed for a reason."
"you have a key, but i don't see much reason in that since you left it unlocked." diana hovers in the entryway for a moment before cautiously making her way towards the dining table where tommy sits. "what's going on, tommy?" her tone is serious now, probing and tainted with concern.
"coppers have smashed up houses and businesses that's what's going on."
"i noticed they left the garrison untouched."
"i think you can manage to figure out why that is." his words are curt with impatience. he has more important things to plan for while he waits for polly and the rest of the family to return from the shop. he was still riled from his family's heated discussion only moments before. arthur had been arrested and the revelation of ada's whereabouts with freddie thorne had left him highly wired with brewing rage as he pondered over the raids.
"christ, tommy this is about the guns isn't it? they know you've hidden them." a large part of diana hopes he would tell her she's wrong. she knows what that added pressure would mean for the both of them, and the threat of imprisonment continues to loom over her head.
"all they know are rumours. they have no real evidence against me." his cigarette hangs from the side of his lip as he shifts to grab his cigarette tin. as he does this, diana notices a broken picture frame of the king sitting atop the table in front of him. he speaks nothing of it as he lights a new cigarette. "our agreement is still in the air with all of this happening, if that's what you're wondering. i haven't forgotten. if you think a police raid will stop my business endeavours, then i'm offended you think so little of me."
"that's not why i'm worried, tommy." diana pulls out a chair and sits by his side, there's a pensive air about her as she speaks. "it's not just the police, the ira are onto you too. one of their members found me at the wash house earlier today and put a gun to my head."
tommy turns his attention fully onto her, ringing his thin cigarette between his fingers as he analyses her expression.
"they've heard rumours about the guns as well, and they know you're involved. if you're not careful they'll either get their hands on the guns or you before the coppers even have a chance. you're making enemies on every side." diana begins to fear how deep she's gotten into tommy's web of deception in small heath. gaining enemies from every corner would surely not keep her identity a secret for long. she turns to face him finally, her eyes meeting his with sober severity.
"is that how you got this?" his voice is more gentle this time. diana can't help but flinch as tommy raises his thumb to the scratch on her left temple. not out of pain but simply the alien feeling of having his fingers gently press against her skin after all this time. she should have pulled back, but instead she keeps her eyes on him. she watches, his eyebrows knitting into a frown as he rubs off the dried blood that coats her hairline.
"it's just a scratch tommy." her voice is dismissive, but her eyes refuse to leave his face, stunned to find them so close in proximity. "it's nothing."
"jesus diana you had a gun to your head and you won't even let me clean off the blood." he mutters in annoyance at her prideful stubborness. she watches his swift movements as he leaves the table momentarily to grab a cloth from a nearby cupboard and run it under the tap. diana feels out of place; unsure of how to respond in a situation where neither of them are arguing.
"i feel like i'm cursed." diana speaks, a small laugh leaves her lips. "trouble seems to follow me wherever i go."
"so that's how we managed to find each other then." tommy returns to his seat, shifting it closer towards diana until their knees were touching.
"this reminds me of when we were children." she muses as tommy gently presses the cold cloth to her temple. "the countless times i came to your door with bloody noses and cut lips, i'm surprised you didn't get sick of me."
"who said i didn't? but i can't seem to get rid of you." his lips form a faint, amused smile as he wipes the last stain of blood from the side of her head. tommy's expression slowly grows stern. "i didn't mean what i said before."
"what do you mean?"
"last night at the garrison. i was... harsh." diana simply nods. tommy never apologises, and she knows this is the closest she would get to receiving one. but diana doesn't expect an apology for that night. "kimber won't lay a finger on you anymore."
he abandons the damp cloth, but his fingers still linger, barely touching her skin as he brings them down to her neck. diana can feel her stomach flutter with apprehension. for a split moment she feels young, as if looking into tommy's eyes is newfound ground.
"what's this?" his fingers touch the chain of her engagement ring hanging from her neck. with a hitched breath she grabs his hand, stopping him from pulling it out. his hand is more callous and rough now; without thinking, diana begins to intertwine her fingers in his out of muscle memory.
"tommy." the pair move away in a matter of seconds as another presence enters the room. diana looks over to see polly's dark eyes studying hers with brittle intensity as cold as a sneer. polly and diana have one thing in common: they're willing to take orders from no one, and she knows that diana would never listen to hers. "what's this i hear about everyone burning pictures of the king?"
tommy doesn't dare look back at diana as he stands, refusing to give polly the satisfaction of thinking anything was lingering between the two ex-lovers. "we're having ourselves a bonfire polly. tell everyone to bring their pictures to watery lane, we're sending a message."
diana doesn't move, her eyebrows furrowed in curious perplexity. would tommy dare? she watches as the pair of them head for the door, neither of them casting her a second glance.