Six months. Six months he told himself it was alright. Six months of 'My wife's visiting family,' and 'She sends her regards,' and 'She's a bit ill at the moment'. Six months of sleeping in a cold bed. Six months of Charlie scowling at him and Ruby shying away from him. Six months of missing one wife for wanting the other. And the other, the first, no longer showed herself to him. Gold and blue no longer haunted the corners of Arrow House or the recesses of his fragile mind.

Now he was standing outside of Lizzie's house. The house he bought her. The house she'd fucking run away from him to. He didn't knock. He'd tried it once and she'd ignored him. She'd called out the fucking locksmith to have the locks changed. He'd gotten a copy. He was Tommy fucking Shelby, people gave him what he wanted. But even with the key added to his others he hadn't gone back. He hadn't used it.

Today he did. He let himself in and slammed the door behind him. He wouldn't sneak like a fucking thief in his own house. He wouldn't tiptoe around to avoid his fucking wife. Not anymore. Lizzie rushed around the corner, gun drawn. John had bought her that gun. Arthur had taught her to shoot it. And Tommy was the first man she'd ever drawn it on.

"Christ, Tommy!" Her hand dropped to her side and she sagged with relief. "You couldn't have knocked? Or called? Or anything?" He didn't respond. But she didn't expect him to. Lizzie set the gun on a side table. He walked over and picked it up, opening the chamber, and removed the rounds. Then he set the empty weapon back on the table. "What are you doing here, Tommy?"

He looked at his wife. He took in the flush of her cheeks and the way her hair fell about her shoulders. He let his eyes wander down her body slowly, noting the changes in her. She'd put on a little weight, lost a bit of that waifish look she tended to have. But it didn't take away from her beauty. She was still lovely as ever.

He'd had time. He'd thought it through. He'd forced himself to face the past- face himself. And now he was facing Lizzie. "I want you to come home." She didn't even blink, Lizzie. "Come home, Lizzie. Things'll be different this time, yeah? Better." But she wasn't looking at him anymore. No, she had her head down and her arms were folded across her chest. "Liz?"

"Get out." He tensed. "Get out, Tommy. I won't do this again. You hear me? You aren't going to put me through this again." She turned to way away, but he caught her arm- pulled her back. Her hand slapped across his face. "I'm not your plaything, Thomas Shelby. I won't be your plaything. Not anymore. I deserve better than that. And Ruby deserves better than watching her mom love a man who doesn't even want her. I won't be my mother, Tommy. I won't be your mother. And I won't go back to living in Grace's shadow."

Tommy spun Lizzie around, half pushing, half dragging her to one of the bedrooms. He heard her cursing him. He felt her struggling. But it didn't matter. None of it fucking mattered anymore. Because it'd been six fucking months, yeah? And it wouldn't be another six between them. They'd fix this now, here, and fuck Lizzie for putting them in this damn situation. Fuck her for caring. Fuck her for loving him. Fuck her for making him feel shit he didn't think was possible after Greta and France and Grace.

He kicked the door closed and pushed Lizzie down onto the bed. She scrambled up to her knees and turned, glaring at him all the while. "You aren't gonna fuck me, Tommy. Not like this. Not when I don't want it. You aren't that far gone."

He didn't pause. He shrugged out of his coat and his suit jacket, let them fall to the floor. Then he worked the buttons of his shirt and tossed it to the side. He crawled onto the bed, hands pinning Lizzie down by the hips. "You're right. I won't force you. But you will listen. You will shut your fucking mouth and listen." He tightened his grip, just a bit. But it was enough. It'd bruise and she'd have his mark on her for a day of two after this was gone.

"Tommy…."

He heard the fear hidden in her voice. He heard it and he hated it, but he wouldn't stop. Not now. Not when she was finally in his reach and he needed her to hear him. Not when he'd been missing her and hating her and fucking- No, he wouldn't stop. Not until things were square between them. "I miss you." She fought him harder. He bracketed her legs with his thighs, let his weight pin her further into the bed. "I fucking miss having you next to me at night. I miss breakfast with you and the kids. And the way you hum in the bath."

"Stop it," there were tears in her eyes, "Tommy, stop…"

His hands left her hips and grabbed her wrists, pinned them to the bed above her head. "I miss watching you run around with Ruby. I miss listening to you tell stories to Charlie. I miss your cunt. I miss your kiss. And I shouldn't have to miss any of it. You're my wife. I shouldn't have to fucking drive across town to see you. Or pin you to the fucking bed to get you to listen to me."

She was crying now, Lizzie. Sobs shook her. Tears soaked into the fabric beneath her head. And she fought him. Harder than he'd ever seen her fight anyone. And it hurt. Fucking hell, it hurt. Because it should never have come to this. He scooped her up and pulled her into his chest. His arms banded around her tight even as her fists beat against his back. "I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"I know." He pressed his face to her hair, tried to breathe through the pain crushing his chest and slipping into his veins. "I know, Lizzie. But I'm trying, alright? You gotta let me try, Liz. It'll be better, yeah? Things'll be better." They would. They'd be better. Because he couldn't have her hate him. Not her- not his Lizzie. "Please come back to me, Liz. Come home- to me and Charlie. Let me do things right this time."

All of a sudden she went quiet. Her body went lax against him. He pulled back, loosened his hold, to see her face. But she was just still, her eyes bright with tears, watching him. She was watching and judging and weighing the truth against all his past lies. And she didn't believe him, he knew it, could see it on her face. He didn't blame her. But there was something else, too. Something sadder and wearier. A heavy sigh fell from her and her eyes closed. "Alright, Tommy, I'll go back with you." He pulled her close again- held her tight.

"I promise, Liz, things'll be good."

He took her to the ballet the night after she came back. Grace's portrait was in his office when they got back. Lizzie froze on the stairs and stared at the empty space on the wall. He didn't look- felt wrong not having Grace's eyes gazing back at him. He expected her to ask, to mention it, to say something. But the words, the questions, never came. She started up the stairs again and that was the end of it.

He talked to her. At night. When they were lying in bed waiting for sleep. Wasn't much, the words seemed to die in his throat more than they came out. But he tried. And she listened, Lizzie. He'd tell her about going to travel with the Romani. He'd tell her about horses he'd bought or sold. He told her about Ada as a kid. It was rambling more than anything, but she never turned away. No, she stayed up and she listened and she squeezed his hand when the words got stuck. And it was good, fucking hard sometimes, but good.

She'd send Ruby to him, now. If she fell and got a scrape or she wanted a sweet, Lizzie'd send their girl to him. It was awkward, for him and Ruby both. And he couldn't say that he liked the interruptions. But he didn't stop Lizzie sending and he didn't stop Ruby coming. Because it'd been six months without her little voice. It'd been six months without her laugh or cry or pounding feet on the stairs. It wasn't quiet, there was barely a moment's peace with Ruby and Charlie together again. But it was better than the silence. It was better than looking at his daughter and seeing the light dim in her eyes.

He forced himself to touch his wife. Not fucking, that'd always been easy for him. But little touches- hand on a shoulder, fingers twined leaving the dinner table. It was awkward for him, being soft with Lizzie. Reminding himself it was alright, reminding himself that Lizzie deserved the kindness. Forcing himself not to think of Grace every time. It got easier, though- the touching.

And like most other things with Lizzie, the simplicity brought a bit of comfort.

Lizzie was asleep when he stepped into his bedroom.

He'd seen Lizzie sleeping before. He knew the way she curled into herself when he wasn't next her. He knew the way she'd kick at the blankets when she was too warm. He knew, but he'd never quite noticed. He noticed now. Standing beside the bed, Tommy took in the way her face would shift with whatever thing she was seeing in her dreams. He took in the way she pulled his pillow closer, like she was reaching for him.

He'd known- for years he'd known- that she loved him. He'd known what she'd do if he asked. And he'd used it. He'd used her. Because she was just Lizzie. Because she thought she loved him. Because she'd do anything for Tommy Shelby. He hadn't cared before. He hadn't looked at her and seen much valuable about her. Now, though, he could. He could see it. She was quick. She was tough. She knew when to be kind and when to be cold. She'd a backbone, his Lizzie, and claws.

Tommy shrugged out of his clothes and got into the bed. Lizzie reached out in her sleep, her hand resting on his chest. Putting an arm around Lizzie, Tommy pulled her close. She shifted closer to him. Sleep was the only time that Lizzie clung to him- sleep and fucking. Tucking Lizzie against his side, Tommy stared at the ceiling. He'd held Grace like this. And she had reached for him the way Lizzie was. Thinking of Grace brought the usual ache. But now, it was mixed- had been mixed for a while. Mixed with guilt for thinking of Grace while holding Lizzie.

He pulled Lizzie closer. She shifted, hummed a bit, and he hoped she didn't wake. She did. Tommy forced himself still. Forced himself not to react, half hoping that she'd stay. But like every other time, he felt her tense. He felt her pull away, felt her move back to her side. Like he'd be mad- like she'd trespassed. The thought came, that he could pull her back. The thought came that he could ask her to stay. But she'd do it. She'd come back and lay tense beside him until he couldn't stand it and left.

"Just got in?"

"Yeah."

"You eat today?"

No. "Yeah."

She was silent a minute. But it was the loud kind, the one filled with so many words. Words he knew even though he'd never heard them. He didn't look- didn't need to- he knew she was biting her lip. And damn her for knowing him so well. Damn him for knowing her so well. Fuck it all that even with the knowing they still couldn't get it right half the time.

"Gonna go check on Ruby."

He almost reached for her, almost pulled her back to him.

But he'd held her to him. For years. He'd held her. He'd kept her. He'd fucked her and turned her out and put his kid in her. He'd married her and hated her and nearly lost her. And through it all he'd never let go. Never let her move more that arm's length from him. Words like knives and hands like broken glass. But he'd held her. He'd pulled her in, and kept her close.

And she was still bleeding from all his sharp edges.

"Night, Charlie. I love you."

Tommy paused outside of Charlie's room. He knew Lizzie tucked the kids in after the nanny. He knew she told stories and hummed lullabies. He knew that Charlie went to her for scraped knees and bad moods and sick bellies. He knew that Lizzie loved the boy. But still, it surprised him to hear it plain.

"Night, Mum- I mean Lizzie. Love you, too."

It was odd. It was so odd. The way the pain came. The way it flooded through him. The way he couldn't stop it or slow it. The way it held him paralyzed and cold and empty. The way he could see, he could fucking see the way Grace's face would fall. The way he could hear the sharp gasp she'd give at hearing what he'd just heard.

It was strange. So fucking strange how the anger came. Burning in his veins and leaving the taste of smoke and ash in his mouth. The way he felt hate rising and rising and driving out every bit of sanity he'd managed to keep hold of. Because how? How was it that Lizzie, fucking Lizzie, was the one giving his son goodnight hugs and kisses. How was it that Grace, his perfect Grace, was nothing but bones rotting in a coffin? How was it that Charlie could forget, even for a moment, the angel who'd birthed him?

It was fucking exhausting. Because as quick as the anger and the hate and the pain came- it was all gone. Because why wouldn't it be Lizzie? Who the fuck else would it be but Lizzie. Not even to his second birthday and Lizzie was already coming every night. It was Lizzie's desk the nanny brought Charlie to when he came to the office. It was Lizzie who he reached for when he was sleepy. It was Lizzie who he found when he wanted a sweet. God, it was fucking Lizzie there with him when he'd a fever and Tommy'd been too fucking gone on dope to do more than breathe and keep from falling over.

"He didn't mean it." Head snapping up, Tommy met green eyes. He wondered how long she'd been there. Wondered how to get that nervous, sad look out of her eyes. Hated that he was more used to it, than her smiles now days. He ran a hand down his face. Then did it again, harder. "I'll talk to him. Tomorrow. Remind him-" She shrugged, eyes dropping to her shoes, and it made something crack inside of Tommy. His hand moved to hold hers. She didn't flinch, but it was a close thing. He shoved his hand in his pocket.

"No need. I'll do it." They both let out a deep breath. The demon that sounded like his father mocked, 'Fucking whore, trying to replace your real lady.' The demon that sounded like his mother soothed, 'It's a good, strong woman who can love another woman's child.' The voice that sounded like his own said, "Why? Why do you do it?" He hated himself for asking. Hated the confused look on his wife's face that meant he'd have to explain. "You love him like he's yours."

"He needed it and I could do it. Seems wrong to make a kid feel unloved just 'cuz his mother was…his mother." And again that stab of pain, that rush of anger, that burning hate. Because what did it say about him that he'd struggled to love his own kid because of her mother, when Lizzie could love Charlie in spite of Grace. "And…" She paused and Tommy vacillated between curiosity and unease. "I guess maybe… Maybe I poured so much love into Charlie, because I couldn't give it to you. Because he'd take it and want it, when you don't."

It'd been weeks since he'd walked away from Lizzie first.

He walked away that night.

He sat at her grave. He sat, side pressed to her gravestone, and watched flames dance in the fire across from him. His fingers rolled the little brown bottle back and forth. "I shouldn't." He knew he shouldn't. he'd promised himself. He'd promised Lizzie, even though she didn't know it. But… "I know it's not you. Feels like you, smells like you, sounds just fucking like you." He held up the bottle. The top was off and the bitterness was coating his tongue before he could talk himself out of any of this.

He sat, for a long time. Or maybe not. Perhaps it just felt long. Like waiting for water to boil. He didn't know, did he? Not with his head going cloudy. Not with the fire leaping and dancing and creating pictures in the flames. But for however long he sat, it was nice. Nice, not to have so much in his head. Nice not to have to feel so much and think so much and be so much.

It was a surprise, after so long without, to feel her touch. It was a shock, but he leaned into it without a second of hesitation. Because this, this, was what he'd been missing and aching for. "You're not real." A quiet hum, then a kiss to his cheek. "I miss you. Still- after all this time." Another kiss. "It's hurting her. Lizzie. It's hurting her, and…" He didn't want to hurt her anymore. "I love her, Grace. I love her, but I've done wrong by her. I've done wrong by my Ruby, too. Even our boy. Missed you so much I could barely look at him some days. Missed you so much I drowned out the pain. But I drowned out everyone else, too."

The hand that had been running through his hair, paused. The cool lips that had been resting at his throat slid away. It was like when they'd lie in bed together. His head on her shoulder, her lips pressed to his neck. "So then… You've come to say goodbye. You've come to leave me." And it hurt, hearing her sweet voice say those words. It hurt, but he nodded. Because he couldn't keep living with a ghost. He couldn't have one foot in the grave and his heart already there. Lizzie deserved more from him. Ruby and Charlie needed more of him than that. And Grace…

"You left me first. You said goodbye first."

There were no more words. Her hands ran through his har. Her cool lips left kisses along his jaw and his cheek. He watched the flames. He listened to the wind in the trees. He let himself remember the feeling of her against him. But when his mind cleared, when the hands faded away, when the fire died, when she was gone… He stood up. He walked away. He didn't look back.

It ached, but he knew it would fade.

This time he'd let it fade.