Summary: No matter how close the family was, no matter how powerful or rich he got, Tommy always had to stand alone. Guilt and remorse, his only company in the middle of the night to fight his demons.
Wow Anna, you made this part give me chills and my heart clench by feeling Tommyâs pain.
He gave absolutely everything, to everyone and yes, he lost Grace and Ruby⊠but to be abandoned by Lizzie, and taking Charlie when he needed someone the most makes me want to step into the story and give this poor man a hug.
They all deserved better. Better than his war. Better than his demons. Better than him.- he couldâve been a different man if the circumstances were different to him, a different version, he wanted to do great things.
Itâs just⊠too much. Alone, surrounded by only the material things he owned itâs not a surprise he started to drink again and he was restless. He was just a man with big dreams. đđ„ș you did this beautifully.
it is just so tragic, yeah. The fact that lizzie left when Tommy needed her the mostâ not that I blame her, I think she was very strong for holding on all these yearsâ and all he has left are useless. The house was bought for Grace, for his family and everything inside was for them as well. Now he doesnât have a family but the house remains...đ„Č thank you for reading!! đ
The image of Tommy as a ghost rattling around his empty house, tortured by alternating silence and the haunting sounds of his children is chilling, Anna!! It truly is hell for him and youâve described his perception of it all so well. This juxtaposition hit me hard: âNo matter how many fires crackled in the hearth, no matter the time of the day or the season, Tommy was always cold.â vs âThere was a time where Tommy would enter a warm, softly lit hall and be welcomed by a kiss from his wife or hugs from his children.â This is such a powerful way to show what he has lost.
Lee, thank you soooo much!!!! đ„čđ„č you really understood everything I tried to express and it is SO rewarding!! and omggg you canât imagine how happy you just made me by quoting those particular sentences!! I was quite proud of myself when I wrote them so I'm glad you enjoyed them as well đ
Now this was dark, but done in such a beautiful way.
His regret is so palpable, and the thought of something that was supposed to be a family home filled with joy turning into something like a crypt. It seemed like while he intended to have the family with Grace, as he reflects on it, he remembers having that with Lizzie (with the children running in the corridor) but probably didnât cherish it at the time because she wasnât Grace and he wasnât Tommy.
But that is so typically Tommy, succumbing to a curse of his own making.
Thank you for writing this and sharing it with us!
Thank you, Val!! đ I really liked that idea of Tommy at the end of s2 buying a house, filled with hope for the future and then see how it actually turned out. And the worst is that...he can only blame himself for that (itâs habit more complicated but bottom line is that lizzie left because of him)
Just when I thought this couldnât get better, it actually got! Anna if only you could see me gasping at this chapter, I just wanted to reach out for Tommy through the screen and hold him, he feels so guilty, his pain is so palpable⊠đ„șđ it wasnât his fault he didnât failed them⊠but he feels like he did.
oh my, thank you!! đ„čđ it is incredibly sad how he takes responsibility of the deaths of all his loved ones even though itâs more complicated than that...
Anna, this is so well-written! It is darkly poetic, capturing the torturous nature of Tommyâs guilt perfectly. It also illustrates the profound loss heâs experienced throughout his life. This was another chapter that moved me to tears! Amazing, brilliant work, darling!
Thank you, darling!! đ I really tried to give some sort of...ârecapâ chapter and âinviteâ all the important people Tommy has lost for one last night of loneliness đ„Č
Summary: Tommy finds himself in his office in the middle of the night, again. He survived, he came back from the grave and life might not be such a burden anymore.
Warnings: mentions of death, angst and some fluff (youâve read that write)
Beautiful ending to the story. Iâm glad that his love is going to be there for him. I can see a new beginning for Tommy now. Hopefully heâs a changed man now.
Summary: Tommy finds himself in his office in the middle of the night, again. He survived, he came back from the grave and life might not be such a burden anymore.
Warnings: mentions of death, angst and some fluff (youâve read that write)
Hello everyone!! I just wanted to say I've read cried over your lovely comments, art, asks and Iâm so thankful for each and every one of you!! Iâm slowly going to catch up on everything and give you all a proper answer but yeah, just wanted to let you all know that I appreciate you all so much!!
If you havenât already, PLEASE go and check out @madame-wilsonnâs series, Midnights, itâs so well written and the content is incredible! Youâll be missing out if you donât and honestly, Anna deserves so much more credit for this series!
Donât forget to like, reblog and comment if you do take the time to read itđ
Summary: Tommyâs days are numbered and in a last, desperate attempt to make things right, he writes a list of regrets
A/N: iâm so so sorry for my inactivity, I was just a bitâŠprocrastinating and on top of that, Iâve received some terrible news. Iâm not feeling quite good tbh but I will try to catch up on everything Iâve missed. In the mean time, I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3
I loved this one! I feel like him making the list of regrets in a, dare I say it, good natured way, as a list of things that need to be fixed before he can be gone, and then it being found without that context is a really great parallel.
Thank you so much!! đđ„° It was obviously inspired by the scene with Lizzie in the hotel room, I really wanted to give the context and what lead him to actually write that list (that lizzie would end up reading later on)
Summary: Tommy finds himself in his office in the middle of the night, again. He survived, he came back from the grave and life might not be such a burden anymore.
Warnings: mentions of death, angst and some fluff (youâve read that write)
Word count: 2,031 words
The clock in the corner of the room rang three sharp strokes, Tommy didnât look up. He had sat down in his chair at a quarter to midnight, listening to the quiet movements of the night.
A few years ago, he would have used his insomnia to work and prepare speeches and plot expansions of the business. He didnât have any work to do anymore. But the insomnia didnât leave.
Almost every night, he would give up the idea of more than a few hours of restless sleep and go to his office. He would sit in his chair, hands rubbing his tired eyes and ruffling his hair. He found himself being tortured with thoughts and ruminations but he could never pinpoint what troubled him. Sometimes, he thought his body had just gotten accustomed to the nauseous rush of worry immobilizing him.
Sometime around four, his muscles began to ache after being still for so long. Tommy reached for a cigarette. He grabbed one in the cigarette holder, placed it between his lips and dampened the tip like he had done countless times. The small ritual seemed to appease him, it felt natural, familiar.
One glance at his desk, his eyes fell on the small portraits and family pictures. He didnât have as many anymore. He took most of them before Arrow House was destroyed but he used to have immense paintings and pictures in every room. He only had a few left. One with Grace, in New York. One with Lizzie, Charlie and Ruby. One of Charlie and Ruby together. Then a few individual portraits. It was all he had left of his old life. A few proofs that once, he had a family.
He tried to mend his relationship with Charlie and Lizzie. It was a long and difficult process, especially with his son.
The same night after he learnt about Mosleyâs twisted plan, he found Lizzie and told her everything, like he promised. She believed himâ he wasnât so good at lying anymoreâ but it didnât change much. She lived in the house he bought for her and Charlie and he got to see them, often. Tommy tried to build a relationship with his son, spend weekends with him, go horse riding and attend his violin recitals. It was still hard for Charlie but he seemed to forgive his father the more they spent time together.
Tommy missed Ruby the most. He tried to honor her memory. He tried to live. But the wound in his chest had never healed, it never would.
Her birthday was coming up, he dreaded that time of the year. She used to love her birthday. She would wake up and skip down the stairs, waiting for everyone to sing at the breakfast table. She loved her birthday because it meant having Tommy home, even just for dinner. Thatâs all she wanted. Whenever he would ask her what gifts she desired, she would hug him and whisper âI want you to help me blow my candles, daddy.â
So he intended to respect her wishes. He took Lizzie and Charlie to Charlieâs yardâRubyâs favorite placeâ and they blew her candles, together. He could feel Ruby with them, watching over her mum and brother. They tried to enjoy the day because his little girl wouldnât want them to be sad. She was a joyful child, always beaming. Her happiness was contagious, her bubbly laugh enough to make anyone smileâ even Tommy.
She would have been eleven in November. He tried to imagine what she would be like today. Would her hair still be as long? How tall would she be? Would she still ask him to build her snowmen?
Questions that would stay without answers.
Often, Tommy sat in the office and he felt a gap, he felt cold. Ruby used to sneak in in the middle of the night when he worked. She would quietly tiptoe to the study downstairs and sit on his lap. She didnât speak, she knew her daddy was busy working but she enjoyed his presence and allowed him to enjoy hers. Tommy missed those nights. He missed the weight of carrying her.
Even the office wasnât the same. It was smaller, just like the rest of the house. There was no point in buying a manor. It would have been too big, too empty. Here, he felt somewhat at ease. He felt home.
âTommy?â
He looked up from the pictures, his gaze falling on you, standing by the door.
âWhatâs going on, love?â
Tommy shook his head as you made your way towards him. âNothing.â Your arms wrapped around his bare shoulders, you gently dropped a kiss behind his ear. âCanât sleep?â
He was a troubled man, your husband. It was rare for him to stay in bed, you couldnât even remember a time he actually slept through the night. But he didnât like waking you up, no matter how many times you asked. You hated the idea of him struggling with nightmares and those awful voices alone.
Truth was, Tommy felt guilty. He used to be a burden to those around him, he didnât want to be a burden to you. He tried to be quiet at night, to come back to bed before you could realize he was gone but you always seemed to know. And he hated seeing your tired eyes in the morning after you had to calm him down because of some nightmare.
He wouldnât lie and say he didnât enjoy your presence. Even when you didnât wake up, he would sometimes lie next to you and watch you breathe. There was a calmness about you. Something in the way your hands fit in his, how your eyes seemed to gleam at the sight of him that made his demons cower with shame.
Tommyâs hand wrapped around your wrist, your lips trailed down his neck, resting on his shoulder. You felt him shiver under your feather-like touch and a soft smile appeared on your lips. Your face nestled in the crook of his neck, you stood behind him, silently. Tommy reveled in your gentle embrace, cherishing your warm breath fanning over his skin. He just wanted to stay there, let your touch repair the broken pieces.
âYou should go to bed, love,â he finally whispered. It wasnât fair to you to let you fix him. You didnât have to wake up for him, you shouldnât have to. âIâm alright,â Tommy added, hoping it would soothe your worry.
âDo you want me to leave you alone?â
Alone. He knew alone all too well. He had been alone. Alone for so long. And lonelinessâŠLoneliness was cold. Loneliness was painful.
Tommy didnât want to feel the lonely sting he had been so accustomed to. Not when he had tasted the warmth, a golden feeling seeping through the cracks and somehow making him more than just broken pieces. He didnât want to be alone anymore. Not when he could be with you.
âIâll go to bed, then,â you misinterpreted his long silence for a sign to leave. You kissed his cheek and added: âYou can come whenever you want, alright?â
But as your hand left his warm skin, Tommy grabbed your fingers and squeezed them lightly. He kept quiet. He didnât really know what to say. Maybe he did know, he just had no idea how to say the words. So he sat there, fiddling with his fingers and twisting his jaw nervously. You quickly picked on his quirk. He always did it whenever something was bothering him, when the thoughts in his mind became louder than the world around.
Leaning on the edge of the desk, you took his shaky hand, holding it tightly and bringing it to your lips.
âItâs okay, Tom,â you brushed the hair falling on his face, fingers trailing over his cheek. Tommy stared at you and for a moment, wondered if this was real, if you were real or if his demons were yet again torturing him with deceitful illusions. He observed your face, trying to find a clue, any indication that he was dreaming and that soon, you would disappear. That soon, he would be alone. Again.
âYouâre too good to me, love,â he finally mumbled, reaching for you. The words had left his mouth without him realizing. But it was true. You were too good. He often looked at you and couldnât help but ruminate how somebody as gentle as you could have been sent to him? For all his deeds and all his sins, he should be punished. Not given some other chance. Not after all the chances he had wasted.
âIâm not too good to you, Tommy. Iâm the good that you deserve,â your voice was so soft, it almost made him cry. It was a funny thing. You handled him with such care, such kindness he could feel his lips wobble and his eyes burn with tears. Tommy didnât understand why your love made him feel that way, why the simplest gesture of affection made him want to get on his knees and weep. And he knew that even if it happened, you would embrace him and kiss him and tell him you did love him and repeat it until your voice got sore.
âAnd anyone trying to make you believe the opposite is wrongâ you put a finger under his chin, tilting his face up and added with a sly smirk âbecause I am always right.â
Tommy felt his chest rumble, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He didnât recognize his own laugh anymore but one time, you had told him it was your favorite sound and Tommy swore he would try and laugh more. He quickly realized he never had to try.
Sighing, Tommy remembered the question you had asked when you joined him. âI donât know whatâs going on, Y/N.â he looked at you but all he could find in your gaze was comfort. âI canât sleep and I donât know why.â
You leaned in, your lips softly resting on his foreheadâ kissing the troubles away. âYouâve always allowed people to depend on you and never allowed yourself to depend on anybody.â
Sometimesâmost of the timeâyour heart broke for him. You had never admitted it out loud before, it would only make him feel terrible but it did. You didnât know him during all these years, you werenât there for him like he needed. He told you stories from his past, bits and pieces whispered in the dead of the nightâsecrets from your lover that he entrusted you with, that you protected and kept close to your heart. But all these stories, all these events made you realize how alone he had been all this time. And it made you ache. He was far from being perfect, you knew his faults and recognized his flaws but there was so much to him: so much kindness, so much love. So much light that even decades of pain and suffering couldnât even put out.
As the sun rose on the quiet land, gently painting your faces in golden hues, you brought your forehead to his. Your hands brushed against his neck, caressing the back of his head. You whispered an ultimate promise, embodiment of your love and devotion, for all these years spent alone. âYou always carried the weight of the world on your shoulders but you have me now, Tom. We can carry the weight together.â
Tommy stared at you, bewildered. He had never realized how much he craved to hear those words until you spoke them. And strangely, Tommy believed you. He never thought such simple words whispered to him could have that effect but there was somethingâŠsomething about how you cradled his face and how earnest you seemed that made him believe you. That made him feel safe.
His arms wrapped around your waist, he brought you close to him. Tommy held onto you, embracing your form as tightly as he could.
All these years, all this time he thought only death would free him, only death would bring him peace. But he was wrong. It was you.
Summary: Tommy decided to retreat into the hills and wait for death to finally come and release him
Warnings: mentions of death, dead people, blood, suicide, angst
Word count: 933 words
The wind blew, making the leaves chant in the starless night. Tommy could feel the breeze tickling his skin but he wasnât cold. The amount of alcohol rushing through his veins and the small fire in front of him was enough to stay warm.
He sat on the grass, observing the flames dancing, somehow amazed by the show in front of him. It was beautiful. Like glowing snakes circling before his eyes. They were taunting him, compelling him to reach out, let his fingers graze their fiery figures.
âYouâll burn yourself if you do that, love.â
Tommy looked behind the fire, squinting his eyes to see the woman standing before him. That voiceâŠHe knew her.
She approached and his heart sank in his chest.
âMum?â
It had been so long since he had seen her. And even after all these dreadful years, she still looked the same. Long, dark hair against her soft porcelain skin and those eyesâŠjust as deep as his, just as enchanting.
Suddenly, Tommy felt like a little boy again. His mum sat next to him and observed the fire. They used to spend hours like this, just the two of them, quietly enjoying each other. When was the last time he sat with her? Why did it ever stop?
He turned to her, about to ask her but all that left his mouth was a gasp. She was drenched, her dress clinging to her body. The soft, dark locks turned into leeches, hiding the translucent skin underneath. Bruises coloring her cheeks, her arms, the piercing eyes faded into a lifeless blue. âYou didnât help me, Thomas.â
He could only stare in horror, his chest heaving. She had jumped in the Canal and nobody was there to save her. He shouldâve known, he shouldâve seen that his mother needed him. All the spirits and the seances and the moments of eerie silence where it felt like she was oneâŠTommy knew.
And he did nothing.
âWhy didnât you help us, Thomas?â
He turned around.
Polly.
She wore the same blue dress, the same jewelry as he saw her last. The same gaping wound on her chest.
âI-Iâm sorry,â is all he could answer. He repeated his apology. Over and over. Like it mattered. Like it would bring them back.
Small coughs echoed through the vast valley and Tommy searched for the sound. The horrifying wraiths vanished, replaced by an even more frightening sight.
âRuby!â
He scrambled towards the lump on the floor, reaching out for his daughterâs hand. She coughed again, blood splattering all over his clothes. No.
âYou didnât kiss me goodbye, daddy,â she whimpered, her brow covered in cold sweats . âYou killed me.â
âNo, no, Ruby, my darling. Stay with me. Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry,â his voice broke as he tried to touch her, to bring her close. He couldn't fail. He couldn't lose her again.
âOh but you already failed. You killed me too, Tom, remember?â
Grace stood over Rubyâs body, dirt covering the once delicate features of her face. She caressed his daughterâs hair, staring at her husband. Her eyes taunted him as her hands clasped the small shoulder. âYou said youâd protect me. You promised.â
The powdered pink dress turned a crimson red, Tommy extended his hands, trying to soak the blood. âAnd then you let me die.â
âI didnât meanââ but the dark stain dripped over his hands, like all the blood he had shed so carelessly. The blue sapphire over his head shone accusingly. It laughed at him, pridefully reflecting the fireâs light. You killed them all.
On his knees, Tommy searched for his gun. He would end it. End it all. No more pain, no more agony. He would go back and spend the rest of his eternity burning for his sins.
âWhy are you trying to escape? Why are you always running away, Tommy?â Greta sat near the fire, his gun in her hand. âYou promised you would never leave me.â
Dark circles, hollow cheeks and blood tainting her lips. She stared at him, her gaze once full of adoration now void. âYou canât escape now.â
She checked the chamber, lifting the gun. Tommy closed his eyes, his lips trembling as he waited for the final bang.
His heart stopped as the loud noise resonated through the valley but he didnât feel anything. Tommy opened his eyes, searching for blood. Nothing.
All he saw was John, falling on his knees, clutching his chest. His brother stared at him in disbelief, tears welling up in his clear eyes.
The gun. The gun was in his hand. He had fired the shot.
âNoâŠno, John. No. I didnât-â
Tommy joined his brother, his fingers shaking as he tried to touch the wound. He had to soak up the wound before he lost too much blood. He had to put pressure on it. He had toâŠ
âW-why did you do it, Tom?â
âNo, I didnât mean to, Iââ
Johnâs body had already vanished, only leaving the overwhelming guilt for Tommy to drown in. His lips wavered, his fist hitting the ground as if to make amends. The crisp air seemed to laugh at his miserable state.
âIt was too late,â it seemed to snicker. âYou killed them all, you failed.â
In the eerie night, Tommy sat near the fire. The flames called for him. The cold breeze hurt his lungs, only the warm hearth would make the pain stop. There was no rest for him, no absolution.
Summary: Lizzie and Charlie are gone, leaving Tommy and his demons behind, locked in Arrow House.
Warnings: mentions of death, angst
Word count: 1,046 words
Threatening clouds darkened the evening sky, an eerie aura floating over the manorâs tall windows. Tommy stood in the middle of the bitter hall. Alone.
He hated that house. He was the one who bought it in the first place, yes but nothing couldâve prepared him for the endless torments of his own living hell.
It was for her that he had chosen the biggest manor England had to offer. A luxurious house. A dozen bedrooms, a library, a gigantic kitchen, gardens, greenhouses, stables. But all that was left of her was her painting in the staircase.
Tommy dragged his feet to his office, grabbed a glass, filled it with his precious golden liquid, drank it all. And poured himself another.
A cigarette to go with the sweet burn of the whiskey, Tommy slumped on his chair. It was the only place in that goddamned house he could still stand.
Everything else made him nauseous. The great manor turned into a pale phantom of its gilding glory. A gaping pit in the middle of the battlefield.
He could have settled for a simpler house. But she wanted more. She wanted space for the kids to play. A place for her sumptuous parties. Enough rooms to welcome all the extended family.
Now everything was empty. Bleak. Dead.
Lizzie hated the house as well. She hated the painting in the staircase. She hated her husband. She hated his wife whoâ although buried for yearsâ had never really disappeared.
She wanted to blow up the house. Thatâs what she had confessed a few days before.
Right before she left him, taking his son with her.
Tommy wasnât mad. No, he was even surprised she didnât leave earlier. She deserved better. Charlie deserved better. Ruby deserved better. They all deserved better. Better than his war. Better than his demons. Better than him.
He observed the room and somewhere, deep in the mud of his thoughts, he heard a clear laugh ringing. Ruby and Charlie, running through the corridors, their light voices echoing, bursting with joy and innocence.
The only noise left in the manor was silence.
That silence was deafening. That silence drove him mad. That silence crept up behind him, lurking in every corner, drowning his heart in an immense darkness.
Frances brought a small tray of food after some time. She knew Tommy didnât like being in the dining room. It was too big, too empty.
Every time he dared to sit there, it reminded him of old times, like dusty pictures found in the attic. Weddings and anniversaries. Chandeliers shimmering. Guests chattering. Music booming. Setting a foot there only tore the wound wide open. All he could think about was the sliver of peace he had once known. A few moments of calm in the middle of the tempestuous ocean. Now, the sound of people laughing joined the demons snickering in his mind in the dull, isolated dining room.
Tommy didnât even bother looking at his meal. Instead, he poured himself another glass of whiskey. The past four years of stone cold sobriety made him scoff. He used to drink too much and his family hated it and then, he wasnât drinking at all but they were still not happy.
Now, he had no family and plenty of whiskey.
He focused on the numbers and documents before him, trying to drown the noise in his head with waves of information.
The exhaustion threatened to defeat him but Tommy couldnât sleep.
He had work to do. Polly agreed to give him some time to put his business in order. His one last deal. One last deal and then he could rest.
Tommy grabbed the glass in front of him. He swallowed its content. The effect wasnât there anymore but it was the only way to keep the cold away.
No matter how many fires crackled in the hearth, no matter the time of the day or the season, Tommy was always cold.
Sometimes he thought he might have been dead already. Perhaps he was a lone ghost, wandering in the gloomy corridors of Arrow House.
Lizzie used to remind him how he was a mere shadow of the man she had known. A specter terrifying their children until the idea of being near him was unfathomable.
Tommy sighed, getting his cigarette holder out of his pocket. His gaze met the distorted reflection staring back at him in the dim light. His eyes, a piercing shade of cerulean. A frightening, fascinating color. People could never look him in the eyes. They said that in his gaze lied the devil.
All he saw was the fatigue. Hollow cheeks, a shallow complexion. A poor copy of the young man who fucking volunteered.
He walked in the hall, for only company the bottle in his hand and the creaking of the wooden floor. Tommy sat on the stairs, right beneath the giant painting.
She looked down on him, disdain and disappointment hovering over his head as he swallowed another sip.
The house had been for her because her dream was to have children running everywhere, to have joyous chatter all the time. Because there was a time where the manor was more than haunted walls. There was a time where the manor was a home. A place of hope. A place of laughter. A place of happiness.
There was a time where Tommy would enter a warm, softly lit hall and be welcomed by a kiss from his wife or hugs from his children.
Even after Grace, he tried to keep her memory alive, honoring her wishes. He had Charlie and Ruby and even Lizzie for a while.
He hung colorful drawings in his office, took Ruby horse riding and played with Charlie in the garden. The idea of going home, his kids running to greet him in the driveway made him smile. Dinners were a moment of lively discussions. Cousins came to play on Sundays. Movies in the big drawing room. His sonâs deep blue eyes reminding him of his mum. His daughter snuggling close to him after a nightmare. Her hair tickling his cheeks.
And all he had left was the golden liquid, turned dull in the dimly lit staircase. His only comfort in the cold and dead manor.
Summary: Tommyâs days are numbered and in a last, desperate attempt to make things right, he writes a list of regrets
A/N: iâm so so sorry for my inactivity, I was just a bitâŠprocrastinating and on top of that, Iâve received some terrible news. Iâm not feeling quite good tbh but I will try to catch up on everything Iâve missed. In the mean time, I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3
I adored the chess reference at the beginning so clever - and Tommyâs list of regrets was just sobering, how he reflects on each and every person he cares about in his life and how he hurt and disappointed them both. It is tricky because on the one hand, you want to pity him but on the other he has just made so many mistakes.
Thank you very much for writing this and sharing it with us!
