A/N: New (and first) story, woohoo! I stumbled across this movie and was so blown away by it that I proceeded to watch it again... and again... and again. It's raw, heartfelt, and just amazing, not to mention I'll love practically anything with Tom Hardy in it. So here we are. R&R if you enjoy, I'm open to questions and would love to hear any comments, suggestions, or concerns you may have :)
Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story except my OC are licensed to me and belong to the wonderful screenwriters and producers of this movie. Title is the song by The Nationals, which is played at the end of the film. Chapter title pulled from The Anthem by Good Charlotte.
1. It's a Good Life, That's What I'm Told
Two years.
He knew it could be worse, that there have been sentences up to four or five, hell, he knew that in some cases desertion was punishable by death. He could've walked straight out of that cage into a firing squad instead of the hospital. And in the long run, it wouldn't be so bad. Not really. One year two times over, one month twenty-four times over. The time would pass however he broke it down – that really wasn't an issue.
But just… fuck. Those were two years of his life, dammit, just about to be flushed down the goddamn drain like… what? Like nothing ever happened? Like he hadn't fought for his country, hadn't held Manny in his arms as he died with his wife's name on his lips, hadn't seen his entire unit blown to bits by the same fucking country they were fighting for? Wasn't it enough? They want to talk about deserting his unit, huh? By the time the last bomb hit, he had no unit. Jesus. Two years.
Tommy fell back in passenger seat of the old Ford, breathing heavily as they drove away from the prison. One night in a holding cell, it hadn't been all that rough. Somehow Brendan managed to buy him more time, a little bit of reprieve before he was tossed on his ass into bars. He stole glances at his brother as they drove. Brendan looked… relaxed, almost. Peaceful. With one arm on the wheel and the other resting casually on the console between them, he appeared more at ease around Tommy than he had in the last month. Things between them were… Well, he wasn't gonna lie and say they've been good, because they haven't, really. Far from it, in fact. But the brothers had fallen into a companionable silence, and he thought maybe it could be a start. Maybe, over some time, they'd patch things up between them. He nearly snorted at the thought. Over some time indeed. Two years.
"That it, huh?" Tommy mused, schooling his voice into impassiveness, like it didn't really matter. Like he wasn't about to lose two years of his life, of his training, of his career to a fucking cell.
Brendan glanced at him sideways in the rearview mirror, and he couldn't quite pick apart the look crossing his face. "That's it?" he echoed incredulously. "Well, what were you expecting? Jesus, to even give you two years is…" He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly looking very, very tired and though he probably shouldn't have been, Tommy was surprised at how much he seemed to care. "The balls of those guys, I can't believe it," Brendan continued, shaking his head. "I mean, God Tommy, it was friendly fire for Christ's sake. PTSD, you know. You hear about that stuff all the time. And then you went and saved those kids, to top it off." A small, disbelieving laugh made its way out of Brendan's mouth. "How the hell…" he muttered, shaking his head again. Raising his free hand from its place on the console, he clapped Tommy on the shoulder awkwardly. "Ripped the door off a goddamn tank, man, I'm proud of you."
He jerked away from Brendan's touch, dragging his eyes away so he didn't have to see the hurt flicker in his brother's eyes. "'At's what Pop said, too, you know. 'At's what everyone's been saying. Running 'round all high and mighty and telling me that they're proud of me, that they're sorry," he drawled, staring resolutely out the window, jaw clenched. The morning sun beat down on his face but he didn't feel it, didn't care. ""That stuff", huh?" Tommy laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "What the fuck would you know about PTSD?" he spat, lips twisting cruelly. He knew the words were biting, knew they'd hurt Brendan but it felt like a dam had been opened and now everything was flooding out. Try as he might, he couldn't stop. "What, you think I'm all fucked up now, huh?" Brendan's breaths were coming in shallow breaths and he was gritting his teeth and God, why couldn't he just shut up? "Got in a cage and took a few swings at my own brother, must be something wrong with me, huh?"
He flexed his shoulder, the joint popping obscenely as it squeezed out of its socket. It was sickening. The sound echoed through the car and he didn't have to look to see guilt flood the lines of Brendan's weary face. The apology was there but Tommy didn't want to hear it. He'd heard it over and over again, in the cage, with the paramedics, lying in that hospital bed high as a kite off the morphine drip in his arm. He'd heard his Pop apologize too, over and over as the old man shuffled around pathetically, muttering how sorry he was in between promises to getting back to the AA or something. Hell, he'd heard the damn people that pass him on the streets apologize, his "oh-so-adoring fans". They walked around with their false sympathy and couldn't seem to stop telling him how sorry they all were, like they knew him or something. Bullshit. Tommy was done with fucking apologies. He chuckled darkly and there wasn't anything funny, the sound pulled out of him with a sneer. "I meant what I said before, you got some serious stones."
By the time Tommy chanced a look over, Brendan's face looked the same as always, though both his hands clenched tightly around the wheel.
They pulled into Brendan's driveway, still not saying a word. Tommy took advantage of the silence to get a good look at Brendan's house, trying to get a picture of the life his brother had. A typical suburban flat, complete with a wide, grassy lawn and well-groomed garden. Perfect for the kind of guy with a wife, two kids, and a minivan. Which was… exactly the kind of guy his brother was. He swallowed the bitterness rising inside him. Yeah, Brendan got what he wanted when he stayed.
"'Ey man, you gonna just sit there or you gonna come in?" Brendan asked, forcing a small smile as he yanked the passenger door open, probably wondering what the hell was taking him so long.
Tommy looked up, eyes unfocused for a minute before he swallowed, nodding. "Yeah. I – yeah." Brendan was making an effort, and damned if he was gonna be the one to throw it all to shit. Not today, anyways. "You opening the door for me like I'm some chick now?" he asked, reaching over to punch his brother's shoulder playfully.
Brendan grinned and it was visible how a little tension eased out of him. Things were still rocky, tentative, and awkward between the two, but it was a start. "Yeah, well, you were takin' so long you I thought maybe you'd turned into one," he shot back, dodging the swipe his way at the comment. "C'mon, let's get you some food." He paused at the door, key in hand as he waited for Tommy to catch up. "You hungry?"
Right on cue, Tommy's stomach growled, eliciting a sharp bark of laughter from the both of them. "Damn right I am." He shuddered, thinking of the food from the previous night. "Jail's got worse food than the Corps and that's sayin' something."
They share a laugh as Tess opened the door like some sort of psychic, although it probably wasn't hard to guess they were home from the racket they were making outside. "You guys gonna come in or what?" she asked, sounding so much like her husband that Tommy wanted to laugh. Brendan grinned sheepishly, pocketing his keys as he leaned in for a quick peck. Tommy averted his eyes and told himself there wasn't a clench in his chest at the sight of the happy couple, that there wasn't a small, tiny piece of him that wanted for himself even a fraction of what Brendan and his wife had.
Tess smiled at him warmly, beckoning him inside. "Hey Tommy, it's good to see you." Her tone actually sounded genuine, and for all its worth, he thought she was definitely a better actress than Brendan. "Come on in, the girls can't wait to meet you, and there's pancakes if you're hungry." And shit, he had to give her props for trying. Because here he was, the man who landed a good beating on her husband the last time she saw him, and in turn had his shoulder dislocated by the same man. And here she was, smiling and telling him to come in, to come meet their daughters, like she wanted him to be a part of their family too. He'd like that, maybe. Someday.
The dynamic of Brendan's house was unlike anything Tommy had ever seen. Well, 'course it's not, he thought wryly. Like there could ever be any sort of family dynamic in Paddy Conlon's household. But as soon as he stepped foot into that house, the mood was just so domestic and homey and the feel sent his mind reeling. What he wouldn't have given for that as a child. He caught Brendan's eye across the foyer as he slid his shoes off. "Nice place," he remarked quietly. And he didn't say anything about how it was the place he left Tommy and Ma for, he didn't mention that while he was off with Tess, Ma was coughing up blood and Tommy was rubbing her down with holy water because there just wasn't money to pay for insurance. He didn't have to, and for the first time, he didn't want to either, either. It was just a nice place. Brendan nodded his thanks, mouth lifting into a tentative half smile. He understood.
"Girls!" called Tess, breaking their moment of silence. "Come down and meet your Uncle Tommy!" There was a pause, and then a flurry of little footsteps down the stairs and excited shouts and giggles.
"He's here, he's here!" little voices exclaimed joyfully, nearly stopping Tommy in his tracks. He's… what? Brendan, Tess, they told the girls about him? And good things, too, judging from the excitement their small voices held. His head whipped around to look at his brother but Brendan studiously avoided his gaze. Tommy didn't have time to even process that because the next minute, two blurs of blonde pig-tails came hurtling down the stairs.
The older girl, at least seven or eight, slid to a stop expertly, beaming up at him. The littler one struggled however, skidding as she tried to stop. She stumbled forward, right into Tommy. He reached down to steady her, suddenly very aware of the large lump forming in his throat. No words would pass through, but thankfully the oldest girl had enough of them. "Hi Uncle Tommy!" she cried, bouncing on her toes excitedly. "I'm Emily."
He smiled back at her almost unthinkingly, swallowing down the lump in his throat at the words 'Uncle Tommy'. "Hi, Emily," he replied softly, eyes impossibly soft. "It's real good to meet you." And it was. God, it was. He looked down to the little girl at his feet. "And how about you? What's your name?"
She blinked up at him, eyes large and glassy. "Rosie," she whispered, entirely too solemn for a girl around age five. "My – my name is Rosie." The little thing was blushing shyly and stuttering over her words as she tried to hide her face in his pant leg and Tommy thought it was just about the cutest thing he'd ever seen. "You're big," she whispered, almost as an afterthought as she stared up at him with those giant eyes. He stared down at her for a second, astonished, before a laugh bubbled forth from his lips. Of all the things…
Brendan and Tess stood in the kitchen, Tess with her hand over her mouth as she watched the scene unfold and Brendan blinking rapidly. He hadn't heard his brother laugh, truly laugh like that in years.
"Well," Tommy started, crouching down beside her with a grin. "How about now? See, I'm not so big." Rosie shook her head, taking a hesitant step forward before wrapping her tiny arms around his neck and pressing her face into his shoulder. Tommy froze at first, then slowly pulled his arms around his niece, holding her to him.
If Tess began to tear up in the kitchen, nobody said a word.
"Tag! Uncle Tommy, you're it!" yelled Emily as she darted away from him. Rosie refused to let go of his leg, making it a fair challenge to waddle after her older sister. After breakfast, the girls had kidnapped him, dragging him outside to play.
Tommy looked down at Brendan's youngest clinging to his leg like a lifeline. "Hey, Rosie," he prompted softly, "don't you wanna go get your sister?" She shrugged bashfully and he took that as an alright answer. Reaching down, he pried her little hands from around her leg and enclosed one with his, leading her over to where Emily gleefully skipped about, shouting "Bet you can't catch me!"
He squeezed Rosie's hand, grinning. "Come on. Let's go get her." All of a sudden, the little girl burst out in a grin, beaming up at him as she broke into a run, dragging him by the arm to chase after her sister. "Whoaaaa!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Where'd all that energy come from?" Rosie just giggled as she ran, nearly tripping over herself. Emily squealed as they neared her, dancing away. Tommy just leaned down, picked up Rosie, and placed her on his shoulders, chasing after the kid and grabbing her in a bear hug as she shrieked.
Rosie was ecstatic. "Got you, Em, got you! Me an' Uncle Tommy got you!" She was smiling so widely as she pushed her wild hair from her face, shouting gleefully. It was the most he'd heard her speak since he got there. He just grinned back at her, not quite trusting himself to form words, and brushed her hair back, clumsily redoing her pigtails.
After a couple rounds of tag, hide-and-seek, and later, hide-and-seek tag, the girls quieted down and Tommy had somehow been roped into swing duty, oblivious to Brendan and Tess watching through the porch screen. "He's good with them," she remarked, watching their daughters shout and giggle as Tommy takes turns pushing them. Brendan swallowed thickly, nodding. He wasn't sure what to expect when he took Tommy home with him. Tess was fully on board with it and come on, it's not like he was about to leave his own brother in jail, no matter how bad things got between them. But he never, never expected this, for his brother to turn into this fun uncle and immediately become wrapped around his little girls' fingers. Watching the man out there, you'd never be able to guess he'd been abused as a child, had been to war, was awaiting a prison sentence. Tommy looked… happy.
"Yeah. He really is."
Tommy and the kids stayed outside playing the whole morning. He didn't notice how much time had gone by until he saw Tess on the porch, calling them in for lunch.