Sophie looked through the scope surveying the stage. Everything was exactly as Tommy said it would be. The podium was set slightly off center, the banner hung directly behind it, and a small piece of tape marked the floor where Tommy would stand. He’d even described the decor to the finest detail, sketching out on a small piece of paper where each fern would be placed by the stage. Sophie hadn’t understood why he bothered with such details, but she enjoyed being close with him again and chose to just let him go on so she could watch the way his mouth moved when he spoke.
She was physically ready, wiping the sweat from her palms and rolling her head to loosen the tension in her neck. She checked the pocket watch Tommy had slipped her. She had fifteen minutes.
It was mental readiness she lacked. Sure, she’d been in situations like this before, and she’d always handled them with more grace and aplomb than anyone would have imagined she would, but this was different. It wasn’t just her safety that balanced precariously on her shoulders It was Tommy’s as well.
Her mind flashed back to that morning two years before, the morning that everything had changed. The moment that Robert pulled the trigger still haunted her. She remembered the sensation in her fingertips. The click of the gun as she realized it’d jammed. The ringing in her ears as she fell to the floor beside Tommy. She remembered how bright red his blood was as it wet his shirt.
The fifteen minutes she waited for him to enter the arena were the longest she could remember. But when he finally entered, even the roaring crowd couldn’t drown out the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. Each beat was both heard and felt as she watched him approach the stage and take his place.
It was the first time she’d seen him since leaving his office that morning, but she hadn’t stopped thinking of him.
He’d been able to move without waking her, reaching for his coat and removing his cigarette case and lighter. It wasn’t until he lit the cigarette that she woke, hearing the lighter strike and the slow burn of the paper.
She smiled before ever opening her eyes, remembering at that instant exactly where she had fallen asleep.
She felt him beneath her. The skin of her cheek pressed against the skin of his chest. She felt him breathing, the deep breaths he took as he inhaled his cigarette. She smelled the warmth of him, even though the room was cold.
“Good morning,” she said quietly, raising her head to look into his steely blue eyes.
Tommy stared back, looking deep into hers, and Sophie realized how much she’d missed that look. She’d missed those eyes. The smile behind them that he’d kept hidden from so many people.
He said nothing, but gently rubbed her lips with the pad of his thumb. And that gesture said all she needed to hear.
“We’ve wasted so much time,” she said.
“No more,” Tommy responded. “That’s enough. One more day. One more job.”
Sophie chucked. “And then what? We rest? It’s over? You and I both know that’s not true.”
Tommy sat up, pushing Sophie with him to sit on the sofa. He wrapped the small blanket they’d slept under around her shoulders and rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm her. His cigarette hung languidly from his lips as he spoke.
“No,” he said. “I suppose not.”
Sophie looked down at her hands. Too many thoughts flooded her mind at once. What had been, what was now, what could come. It overwhelmed her, almost pushing her to the brink of tears. But she finally had him back. She was finally there, really with him, and she wouldn't be scared away.
“But we can stop wasting time. I never stopped thinking about you--.”
“Nor I,” she interrupted, before leaning in for another kiss.
They had finally made their way back to one another and now they were risking it all.
Sophie returned the watch to her pocket and fished out the small, metal capsule. It was strange that something so small could signify so much. She found herself wondering how quickly everything could change, to epic proportions. One tiny capsule could take him away, forever. Turning it over in her fingers, she thought about how close he’d been, how many times he’d resolved to end it. She couldn’t help but hope it was the thought of her that had stopped him every time. He carried the answer in his pocket, but he hadn’t been able to do it. She hoped he’d been holding on for her.
She felt a familiar lump rise in her throat and failed to stifle the scoff that came with it. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
She placed the capsule in her mouth and used her tongue to move it between her teeth and cheek on the side of her mouth. It tasted metallic--like blood--and she shook her head to rid herself again of the sight of his blood as it threatened to take over her mind’s eye once and for all.
Sophie steadied the gun and trained her sight down the scope.
She looked at Tommy first, confirming that he was in place.
And as she turned slightly to move her sights toward Mosley, she saw the expression on Tommy’s face. It was a look she hadn’t seen in years, but it was instantly familiar.
Fear.
And that’s when she heard a deafening bang behind her.
She knew immediately that the sting in her back was from a bullet. The pain flooded her mind and before she could turn to see her assailant, she’d been forced to the floor by a boot pressing against her wound.
Presence of mind, though, through the pain and fear, allowed her to move the capsule from its hiding place in her mouth--placing it between her teeth. If she’d been a god-fearing woman, she would have prayed. As it were, she thought of Tommy as she bit down. The bittersweet taste of almonds was the last thing she acknowledged before it all turned black.
______________________
“Where’s Sophie?” Tommy demanded as he paced the small dressing room under the arena.
It was just he and Arthur, who was covered in blood from fighting for his life.
He wasn’t sure where it’d all gone wrong, but he knew it had. And now he was properly fucked.
“She’s gone,” Arthur answered, running a hand through his hair. He knew his brother was already fragile. Learning that Sophie hadn’t made it out safely was likely to push him over the edge. But he couldn't think of any other way to say it than to just come right out with the truth.
“What do you mean she’s gone?”
“They’ve taken her.”
Tommy tried to storm past him, grasping for the door as Arthur caught him by the shoulders and fought to steady him. He turned Tommy to face him. He needed him calm if they were ever going to find her.
“Tom, we don’t even know who they are?”
Tommy fought back, pushing his brother away as he also pushed down the tears that threatened to spill forth.
“Is she alive?” He finally asked, looking his brother in the eye--imploring, begging him to give an affirmative answer.
“There’s a lot of blood," Arthur said with a deep sigh. "I don't know, brother."
He tried to push past Arthur again. A lot of blood.
But his brother was able to stop him, forcing him into a hug until he calmed again.
“Who? Who knew, Tom?” He asked.
“It doesn't make sense,” Tommy said quietly, wracking his brain for where it’d gone wrong. “Doesn't make fucking sense.”
Tommy paced the floor rubbing his hands over his face. He knew the problem with determining what happened was the overwhelming number of suspects. He'd found himself with more enemies than he'd ever faced at once. And he was certain they all knew about Sophie, about their past.
But who knew about the plans at the rally?
“Who?” he asked, as he felt his chest tighten. “Who?” He kicked the chair by the dressing table. “Who?!” His voice rose in a frenzy. “The Chinese, the Italians the Branch, Intelligence, McCavern, Mosley?!” He shouted. “Mosley knew nothing! He knew nothing!”
He sat in the chair Arthur propped back up and hung his head in his hands.
“WHO?!” he screamed, frantic now. The word reverberated in his mind.
Who. Who. Who.
He felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes to find himself standing in the driveway outside Arrow House.
“You're fucking scaring me,” Arthur said.
But his voice sounded like a distant echo, and Tommy wouldn't let it settle in his mind.
“What are you doing? Talk to me.”
“Maybe I've found him, Arthur. The man I can't defeat,” Tommy said, turning to look at the field beside the house.
“Mosley?”
“I don't fucking know. Doesn't make sense,” he said, eyes still trained on the field. It was covered by a thick cloud of fog, but he could sense something there. And whatever it was demanded his attention.
“Let's… let's go inside,” Arthur said unsteadily. “We'll work it out. Have a drink.”
But it kept calling for him.
Sophie.
“I need to walk,” Tommy said, not once looking at his brother--just walking determinedly toward the field.
______________________
The fog was thick and Tommy could barely see in front of him. But the sound of his own breathing and the dirt crunching beneath his feet sent him forward without direction.
“Tommy.”
He heard Sophie’s voice and spun around to find her. But he couldn’t see her through the fog.
“Soph?” He yelled.
She heard him again, but this time from a different direction.
Over and over she said his name as he spun around in the mud, hoping desperately that he’d find her, but knowing that he wouldn’t.
He couldn’t do it anymore. He was tired. He was afraid. And he knew she was gone.
Tommy took the gun from his shoulder holster and pressed it to his temple.
He screamed.
_______________________
Sophie woke suddenly and with a start. She looked about the room frantically for the gun she was certain she’d just heard fire. The room was empty and everything appeared to be peaceful.
Perhaps it was another dream.
The room was just as stark, just as clean, as it had been when they wheeled her in some hours before. She could hear the ticking of a clock, but couldn't find it on the walls and had no sense of time. Had it been hours? Days?
She lay back down and closed her eyes. All she could hope at this point was that Tommy would find her--that he’d made it out safely and would come for her as well.
The doctor had made it clear they wouldn't release her without someone there to care for her.
"You're a risk to yourself," he said, holding up the shell of the capsule he'd pulled from her mouth.
She closed her eyes, hoping to find sleep as lying awake had proven to be too difficult. The uncertainty wouldn't let her settle.
Just as she began to nod off, she heard his voice.
It was Tommy.
“Sophie,” he said, as if trying to wake her. But her eyes were suddenly too heavy to open.
“Sophie, come with me, love. We can rest. It's over.”
Sophie let out a deep sigh and finally let go.
_________________
As always, folks, comments and feedback warmly welcome!
Summary: Sophia Murphy’s past is coming for her. Can she outrun it?
Tags: Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character
Warnings: angst; smut; violence; language; rape/non-con; death
Chapter 6 Read Chapter 5 here
“I’m pregnant,” Ada blurted out from nowhere.
Sophie nearly choked on her drink, but was able to swallow the shock before she accidentally spit whiskey all over her friend.
She looked at Ada, surprise spreading across her face, but before Sophie could ask any clarifying questions, Ada saw them coming.
“Yes, I know who the father is. And no, you don’t know him,” she said.
“Ada, that’s wonderful!” Sophie took her friend’s hand and gave it a strong squeeze.
Ada was glowing, clearly happy about the news, so Sophie chose not to press about the details. She was worried for her friend, but she was happy to finally be catching up after so long away.
The two sat at the corner booth in the Garrison while the bustling pub carried on around them. The conversation, as to be expected, eventually shifted to Tommy. Sophie found she couldn't spend much time with anyone in Birmingham, and especially not his family, without him becoming the center of conversation.
She didn’t need to admit the wild range of emotions she felt about the situation, about Tommy, as Ada was able to suss it out by just looking at her.
"Tommy's really been struggling," Ada said.
Sophie knew this. Arthur had mentioned it more than once. And Sophie could see it on his face. He’d looked more tired than he had before. Was more short tempered. Seemed constantly in a foggy haze. And she’d seen him drink more whiskey than ever.
“He’s always struggled, hasn’t he? Facing the war and losing a wife will do that to a man, even one as tough as Tommy.”
“He’s not so tough,” Ada said, chuckling.
She was right. He had softened to her before she left for America. She’d witnessed another side of the infamous brutal gangster. Had even come to believe it was all a mask he wore to most of the world. She had seen beyond it, and she knew Ada always had as well.
“The truth is, I think losing you has pushed him over the brink,” Ada replied.
Her heart sank. That’s the last thing she’d wanted to consider. She couldn’t bear having hurt him and had convinced herself he’d never loved her as deeply as she thought. Despite all of her effort, there had been a part of her that would sneak to the surface and tell her otherwise.
“He didn’t lose me, Ada.”
“Of course he did. And he’s been desperate to have you back, even if he won’t admit it.”
________________________
Sophie woke from a fitful sleep and drowsily mad a cup of coffee to try and force herself more alert. It was early, too early, and all she wanted to do was crawl back into bed and sleep off the whiskey still flowing through her system and forming a miserable headache between her eyes. Damn you Ada, letting me drink enough for the both of us, she thought.
Despite having risen early, she found herself rushing out the door for her meeting. She’d taken too long trying to hide the dark circles under her eyes and was anxious to be late.
As she arrived at Charlie’s yard, she realized she was right on time. Tommy was already there, as was Arthur, with a rifle slung over his shoulder. With them stood a man she didn’t recognize. They were just wrapping up a conversation as she approached. The man looked at Sophie, tipping his hat, and greeting her with a thick Scottish accent.
“I think you’re free to go now, Mr. McCavern,” Arthur said, clenching his fists.
“Not until you’ve properly introduced me,” the man responded, not taking his eyes off Sophie.
Arthur took a step toward the man, but Tommy raised his hand and held his brother back.
“Sophie, this is Jimmy McCavern, a business associate,” Tommy said, training his stare on Jimmy. “This is Sophia Murphy.”
She chose not to shake his outstretched hand, and nodded politely instead.
As he walked away, Sophie noticed the goosebumps that had formed on her arms. She didn’t know who he was or how he was wrapped up with the Shelby clan, but she trusted Arthur's judgement and didn’t care to spend any more time than was absolutely necessary in his company.
“I thought you said he’d be gone before she got here,” Arthur said to his brother.
But Tommy didn’t say anything in response and just took the rifle off Arthur’s shoulder and turned to Sophie.
“Let’s see it then,” he said, checking the cartridge to ensure it was loaded and giving her the gun, looking her in the eye for the first time all morning. He removed a cigarette from the case in his breast pocket, ran it across his lips, and lit it, all too casually.
“What do you mean?” she asked, annoyed that Tommy clearly expected her to read his mind.
Tommy just pointed at the target set up about 100 meters down the length of the yard.
Sophie knew she could make that shot, had made more difficult ones in recent months, but still she didn’t understand why he was asking her to prove it.
Arthur was similarly confused.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Tom,” he said. “Not Sophie!?”
But Tommy didn’t budge.
She looked him in the eye and determined to prove herself. Just what she was attempting to prove, and why she wanted to, she had no idea.
She leaned against the unlit fire pit, crouching behind it and ignoring the fact that her skirt was soaking in mud. She readied the rifle against her shoulder, trained her sights, and pulled the trigger as she let out a deep breath. As always, her eyes slammed shut at the sound, but she kept them shut and held her breath until Arthur spoke first.
“Fucking hell!!!” he laughed loudly. “Who would have ever guessed there’s a sharpshooter behind that sweet face of yours, love!!??”
Tommy said nothing and instead walked toward the target to inspect the mark left by the bullet. As he expected, it’d pierced the middle of the bulls-eye. He knew she’d be perfect for the job. And as much as it pained him to think of putting her in harms way, he knew he needed her if he was actually going to pull it off. He threw his spent cigarette on the ground.
Now the only thing he had to do was convince Sophie she was going to shoot Oswald Mosley.
____________________________
“Are you fucking mental?” she asked, after Tommy had explained the details of the plan.
He didn’t answer.
“Of course you are,” she said. “You know, I knew I should have listened to Arthur and to Ada. I didn’t want to believe you were losing your mind, but fuck, Tommy, clearly you already have.”
Tommy stalked toward her, quickly, and pushed her against the damp wall of the barn so fast she hadn’t seen it coming.
He was sick of people calling him crazy. He was sick of everyone questioning his ideas and intentions. He was sick of no one listening to him. But mostly, he was just sick. And that angered him the most. Tommy knew that whatever was happening to him wasn’t healthy. He knew he needed to get his head sorted. That the hallucinations, the paranoia, the constant inventory he had to take of the world around him to ground himself, were all going to catch up with him. But fuck if he wasn’t going to run from it for as long as he could. He knew no other way.
And admitting any of that to Sophie was out of the question.
He held her jaw with one hand, his other propped against the barn next to her head as he pushed with all his weight. He could tell he was hurting her, but she looked him dead in the eye, defiant still.
Tommy knew his plan was risky. But he had to kill the message. And to that, he had to kill the man. Sophie was the only hope he had.
Just as he was about to loosen his grip and let her go, she spoke.
“I nearly came back to Birmingham twice,” she said. “Once when Arthur phoned to say he was worried about Charlie, after he was thrown from the horse. But Michael talked me out of it. He said Arthur was exaggerating.”
Arthur had been right to be worried. Charlie was in hospital for several weeks. But he had been alright--suffering from a broken arm and lots of bruises to be sure, but in no real danger.
Tommy had no idea Arthur had told her about that. He realized then that his brother had probably told her much more.
“And the second time?” he asked, resisting the overwhelming urge to kiss her now that he stood so close. Even there, in the muck and the mud, she smelled sweet and radiated a warmth he’d hopelessly missed every day since she’d been gone.
“The second time was when Arthur phoned to say he was worried about you.”
Tommy let go of her then, but remained close, resting both hands on either side of her head now, and leaning forward. He looked at their shoes, unable to take her intense eye contact any longer for fear she’d see straight through him.
“He was right to be worried, wasn’t he, Tommy? You are going a little mad, aren’t you?”
And he realized it was too late. She'd already seen straight through him.
Instead of answering, Tommy leaned in and kissed her.
It was different from the kiss in his office. It was real, somehow--laced with heat and passion. Slow and steady at first, but building to a frenzy when he pressed his body against hers.
Sophie knew it was a mistake, but couldn’t help kissing back. She’d wanted this to happen since stepping back on English soil. But she was terrified of what it might mean.
Tommy was supposedly with Jesse. Sophie was now a hired gun working for him. Both Mosley and this McCavern fellow were clearly circling the waters.
But most of all, Tommy was unwell. She wasn’t even sure if he was fully aware of what he was doing.
For that moment, though, that brief moment, she pushed it all down and allowed herself to feel whole again. Things finally felt real in that moment, wrapped in his arms, feeling the heat radiate from him, and kissing him like her life depended on it.
And it very likely did.
__________________________
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