Hello! A nice, long chapter for you all to mark the beginning of new content since my updates (and an apology to those of you who were left hanging for months during my hiatus, I hope this makes up for it a little)! If you have visited this fic before, I highly recommend rereading the previous chapters as I have added (at least, what I hope are) improvements!
Reviews, as always, are very much appreciated! Would love to hear your thoughts on Maggie, her relationship with the other characters, portrayals of the characters from the show and my writing style! Thank you so much for reading!
[content warning: this is a peaky blinders fic and the show should come with its own warning, though this chapter does contain violence and implied sexual advances]
"This is what is known as your final briefing before going over the top," Arthur declares to the gathering of men from the wooden box he stands on, "Sixty miles down that road is Cheltenham racetrack. Johnny, what's our mission?"
"To stick it to the Lee family, Arthur!" John yells, his mischievous grin splitting his cheeks.
"That's right," Arthur grins back, excited that the day has come. The day they take Cheltenham.
He looks past the line of men and over to the coal yard to see a woman approaching through the smog.
"Maggie!" he calls out, the young woman raising her head and offering a short, embarrassed smile.
Maggie wobbles slightly as she trawls through the mud to reach them, careful not to dirty the bottom of her dress. She does not want to face Ada's wrath if she ruins such a pretty skirt, having fisted the fabric so that it is raised to her calves. Maggie is relieved she does not have the money to afford heels so is forced to wear her usual boots (that would need a wash down before they arrived at Cheltenham) and can at least walk. Finally reaching the men, she hears John whistle appreciatively as she stands beside Finn, who reaches a hand out for her to hold.
"What a gentleman," she smiles at the boy as she stables herself, ignoring John as his younger brother grins at her compliment.
Unused to wearing such pretty dresses and getting such attention, Maggie blushes as she accidentally catches John's eye and he sends her a wink. She quickly turns, refusing to look at him or any of them besides Arthur as he continues to speak, "The Lees are skimming money off the legal bookies. Running chalk, selling rafflers, beating them. But today, we will stop them."
John raises his hand, mockingly, before asking, "What about Kimber's men? I thought he had his own protection?"
Maggie shudders at the name of that man. She is tempted to run home and change, refusing to be a part of any of this. Her feet itch where they stand in the mud, ready to run if not for the hold of Finn's small hand.
"Kimber has let his troops go rotten," the men turn at the sound of another voice behind them. Tommy steps forward to join the line up, cigarette dangling from his lips, "They're on the take from the Lees to look the other way."
"We're going to show Kimber how it should be done," Arthur continues for his brother, the pair sharing an enthusiastic nod.
Tommy scans the line up of men, satisfied they are prepared for the day; the glint of the blades in their caps as sharp as their suits. His eyes then shift to the woman standing at the end of the line.
He sighs around his cigarette. Maggie has a simple beauty to her, Tommy always thought so. He supposes that is what has gotten her involved in this mess.
The lilac fabric bunched into a fist while the other hand holds his brother's falls delicately over her shoulders and across her figure, accentuating a slight curve to her waist usually hidden by her scrubs. Her hair falls in soft waves around her blushed cheeks, an enticing dash of rouge on her lips standing out amongst the grey of Charlie's yard. Her dress is not as bright or, dare he say, garish as the one Grace has chosen. Her hair is not as perfectly styled. And her boots give away her hesitance at dressing for the occasion, a reassuring comfort to her in an otherwise unfamiliar get-up perhaps. In fact, hardly anything about her today is far from how she usually looks, even after a gruelling shift at the medic centre or running around after him and his brothers.
He's a man, he can see. She is beautiful. And that concerns him.
He feels his chest begin to ache - he had hoped she would not stand out. That she would not draw attention. He hoped Grace with her garish red dress and bright blonde hair would take the attention away. But Maggie is beautiful.
Arthur calling for the men to gather their weapons tears his attention away for a moment, watching as they scramble over knives and axes and crowbars. He chuckles to himself as Finn is handed a large sickle by John, Maggie immediately swiping it out of his hold and whacking John on the arm with an outraged pout.
John then leans into her, whispering something in her ear. Tommy can tell it is a compliment - one of John's excessive, overused flattery lines - from the way Maggie's face flushes and she lowers her gaze to the ground with a bashful smile. John smirks as he watches her turn quickly to hide her burning cheeks, leading Finn away from the weapons with a hand on his shoulder.
Tommy feels something hot flare in his stomach.
He clears his throat, assuming it is nerves for today. This has potential to be the biggest day of their lives - it will make them legitimate.
He finds himself looking over at Maggie again who is chatting with an excitable Finn. Though he had woken up with an air of optimism about today, Tommy suddenly feels sick thinking of what is going to happen.
At all costs.
He turns sharply on his heel, it dirtying in the mud as he begins to walk away. His cigarette fizzles as he throws the butt into the ground.
"Tommy!"
He closes his eyes as he continues to walk, trying to drown out the sound of her voice.
"Thomas!"
That makes him halt.
He can hear the mud squelch under her boots as she jogs lightly to move in front of him.
Maggie shifts uncomfortably as his eyes find hers for the first time in weeks. She never would have thought Tommy Shelby would intimidate her, but after all his silence and shutting her out and the expectation of today, here she finds herself trembling.
"What is the plan for today?"
Tommy hesitates, eyes flitting between both of hers. He hates the apprehension he sees in them. She twists her hands together, busying them by ringing the hem of her dress to keep it around her knees and away from the mud.
"The others all have their orders," Maggie shrugs, biting her lip nervously, "What is it you want me to do?"
Maggie has dreaded this day since her unofficial invite. She had hoped he would come and find her, talk to her about what is going through his head and how she can help. That he may even give her the option if she wants to help rather than assuming it.
The answer to him asking will always be yes, she knows they both know that. But it would have been nice to be asked rather than expected to be blindly loyal.
And she knows what he is wanting from her. She is no fool. As soon as Kimber laid eyes on her, she knew that Tommy could - and would - use it to his advantage.
She just wants to hear him say it. She needs him to say it. Say anything.
Her stomach twists as he only stares at her, eyes lowering quickly to her dress before flitting back up to her face.
"Stay close to me."
And with that, he walks past her, disappearing around the corner.
"Mags!" someone calls for her as she watches Tommy go, suddenly feeling lightheaded. She feels a hand on her arm, and turns to see John smiling down at her, though his smile soon drops into a concerned twist as he notes the absent look on her face, "Hey, what's wrong?"
She shakes her head, swallowing thickly, blinking back the wetness pooling behind her eyes, "Nothing, John. Nothing. It's fine."
John sighs, holding her in front of him with a hand on each of her arms before pulling her into his chest. She tucks herself in immediately, one hand still bunched in her skirts as the other lays flat against his chest. He relaxes as she melts into his hold, his breath brushing her waves as he says quietly but confidently, "Tom won't let anything happen to you, alright? We won't either."
Maggie sighs, willing a threatening tear not to fall as she pulls back to look up at him.
"Thank you," she says, sincerely appreciative of his kindness. This is who John Shelby is. It is what she has always liked so much about him even since they were teenagers together. It is what Martha saw in him too, and she is beyond grateful she gets to see this side of him even now. She thought she loved him once, and this is why she thinks she still could.
But Tommy has shaken her.
She had thought she knew what he wanted from her. But now she is unsure.
She has spent several nights in the past few weeks awake until the early hours, thinking of what will happen when he inevitably offers her up to Kimber as bait. And while grateful to have something else pounding at her skull at night besides artillery and wounded soldiers, she is exhausted. Finally working herself into a place where she has accepted what she must do, for him and his family. She owes them, after all, for all they have done for her.
And so Maggie had resolved herself to that expected fate as a step towards reimbursement.
And yet, with four words, he has thrown her off focus.
Stay close to me.
Quite the opposite of what she assumed he wanted of her. Maggie is usually so certain of her assumptions about that man. She had presumed he wanted to use Kimber's apparent lust for her as a means to manipulate him. She assumed Tommy not talking to her in the weeks since was a sign of his guilt or apprehension of her becoming involved, especially in such a way. Had hoped so, even. Somehow that would be simpler to conclude.
So why has he invited the barmaid? And bought her a beautiful red dress? And driving her there in a fancy motorcar?
"When we get there, you head for the dancefloor before things get violent," John explains, Maggie unnerved by the eager smirk on his lips at the thought of it, "Tommy will meet you there."
"And Grace?"
John blinks, "Yeah, her too."
Maggie nods, looking down to her hand still on his chest. She thumbs at the collar of his shirt for a moment before looking back up at him, "This is a nice shirt. Don't get blood on it. It will be a nightmare to get the stains out."
"I'll try," John's smirk widens as he lowers her arms and takes her hand, pulling Maggie to sit beside him in the truck.
"Maggie, you look beautiful," Grace smiles kindly as she reaches to embrace the woman when she meets with her and Tommy by the dancefloor. John and Arthur had found her a back route, sneaking her in through a waiter's entrance before running off with their crowbars and cleavers.
She feels extremely out of place, looking around at the flapper dancers and jazz band and gold chandeliers. Ladies and gentlemen dance about the room, a loud chatter almost overpowering the music. A glass of champagne somehow found its way into her hand as a waiter passed her by, Maggie downing it quickly before discarding the glass on a nearby table and stepping forward into the crowd to find Tommy just as instructed.
It was not difficult to spot the barmaid upon her arrival, with her bright red dress and her glowing blonde curls. They stood together - her and Tommy - on the balcony, talking quietly amongst themselves for a while before making their way down. Maggie regretted the champagne as she felt the bubbles irritate her stomach as it twists upon seeing Tommy lean in to murmur something and Grace smiling in return, beautifully. She met them half-way up the stairs, Tommy's eyes finding her first, without a word. Just looking. Before the other woman stepped towards her.
Maggie steps back from the woman and lowers her arms, beating down the jealousy and quietly murmuring, "And you, Grace."
She finds it hard to even look at her, mind running to chase away those nagging envies before they distract her from the task. Her gaze then shifts to the man standing beside her in his smart, grey suit. His cap is removed, tucked into his coat pocket that hangs behind them on a coat stand.
He looks at her. And she looks back.
Grace flits her eyes between the two, shifting her weight uncomfortably under the tension that is weighing the air around them. She clears her throat after a moment.
Tommy finally turns his gaze to her, the other woman shrinking once released from his gaze, "Do you dance, Grace?"
Grace smiles, "When asked properly."
"Then, Grace Burgess, will you dance with me?" Maggie watches as Tommy extends a hand to the other woman, her taking it delicately.
Maggie's upper lip curls in something close to a snarl, feeling as though he is doing this to taunt her. But she switches it off, knowing she is not here to dance. That he needs her for something worse, "And what am I to do?"
Tommy doesn't look right at her, simply turns his head slightly as he begins to lead Grace down to the floor, "Stay close."
He can sense the confusion radiating off of her as he passes her with Grace hanging off his other arm. She hesitates for a moment before following behind them to the bottom of the stairs where she leans against the banister. He relaxes slightly as he takes hold of Grace's waist, the blonde taking hold of his shoulder but failing to entirely claim his attention as he glances quickly to where Maggie is snatching another glass of champagne from a waiter's tray. He feels much better knowing she is out of sight by the stairs and is now as blended with the crowd surrounding the dancefloor as she can be. Any attention, for now, should be on him and the red-clad blonde he is parading around the centre of the room.
Leading Grace further onto the floor as the music plays, swaying in time to the jazz beat, Tommy turns his gaze from Maggie to survey his surroundings. He spots Kimber immediately, puffing on an overly large cigar while his accountant scribbles notes beside him. His wife, sitting opposite, looks completely bored and offended as she glances at her husband whose gaze is elsewhere. Tommy follows it and feels his stomach sink.
Maggie.
Fuck!
She is still leaning against the banister, nursing a glass of fizz in her hand as she looks around uneasily at the drunk, dancing aristocrats in the room. Tommy takes lead of the dance, moving the blonde hurriedly closer to where Maggie stands, if only to block the kingpin's view and draw his attention to the garish red dress instead. Grace chuckles, thinking Tommy is simply speeding up their steps to match the upbeat tempo of the dance, though her hold on his shoulder loosens when she notices the other woman stood just by them. She bites back a disappointed huff.
Tommy lets go of her hand for a moment, pulling out his pocket-watch to check the time. He catches eyes with Maggie and gestures with his head to a door in the far right corner of the room. Maggie nods in understanding and makes her way over, dodging dancers and drinkers.
Grace releases her huff, mood deflated, as Tommy returns to spinning her, "Either your left leg is stronger than your right or you are making a quick getaway."
"Neither," Tommy says, halting the dance and taking her hand to pull her behind him over to where Maggie waits by the door.
"I hope this doesn't involve razor-blades," Grace growls.
"I've decided to move up in the world. Become a legitimate businessman," is all Tommy offers her in explanation.
They reach Maggie, who opens the door as instructed by John earlier in the truck, who had been kind enough to fill her in on their part of the plan at least. His brother still had not yet shown her the same courtesy, leaving her clueless as she is forced to watch him dance with the beautiful barmaid.
Arthur is waiting on the other side of the door, with sacks of heavy money they have just stolen from the Lees who had stolen from Kimber's men. Maggie moves to take the sacks, but Tommy steps around her and does so himself, throwing them over his shoulder as Arthur explains, "We chased the Lees across the track and down to Devon Road. We got every penny back!"
Tommy nods, taking the last of the money bags.
"Is anyone hurt?" Maggie asks, hurriedly, looking at the cut on the side of the older brother's face.
He shakes his head with a smile, "A few cuts and bruises. Nothing to worry about, Mags."
She hums, her stomach twisting even tighter. Seems she will be trying to clean stains out of John's nice shirt after all.
Tommy pats him on the shoulder before heading off back through the dancefloor and into the room. Arthur winks at Maggie before closing the door behind him, her and Grace sharing an uneasy look before following behind Tommy - both clearly unsure what comes next.
Maggie follows through the crowd as Tommy rather boisterously pushes himself and the bags through the dancefloor. A path clears for him as he nears a table, her step flattering as she lays eyes on Billy Kimber.
She approaches slowly, raising her chin in defiant preparation for whatever lewd leers he will throw her way like the time before. She lingers behind Tommy as he comes to a stop, throwing the heavy bags onto the table. Coins spill from the pockets.
"Your money, Mr Kimber," Tommy says, gesturing to the bags. Maggie stays standing behind him as Grace moves over to the bar for a drink, frustrated, "Retrieved from the Lee brothers and returned to you with a request for a fair hearing."
Maggie lowers her head as Kimber raises his, her hair falling across her cheeks in a rather pitiful attempt to hide herself. Her skin begins to crawl at the thought of him looking at her, as he did before. She jumps as she feels the brush of a thumb against her wrist for a brief moment, seeing Tommy's hand then retreating to his side. It almost embarrasses her how reassured that slightest of touches makes her feel. The first outward display of comfort he has offered her in weeks.
She understands it also as a cue to leave them, and takes the prompt eagerly, hurrying over to the bar to stand beside Grace.
She is grateful that the woman does not try to speak to her, just lights a cigarette as Maggie reaches for another glass of champagne.
"Your own protection is failing, Mr Kimber," Tommy remarks as he takes a seat at the table, Kimber glancing at him curiously, "I want to suggest that from now on you contract out your racetrack security to the Peaky Blinders. We would be saving you a lot of money, Mr Kimber."
Kimber raises a brow.
"In return, you give us five percent of the take and three legal betting pitches at every race meeting north of the river Severn rising to six after one year if we are all satisfied with the service."
Tommy lights a cigarette, the smoke billowing around his head as the man opposite considers his words. He needs this deal to be made, and needs it to be done so as quickly as possible to get himself and Maggie out of there.
He watches as the words fizzle out behind Kimber's eyes, him too incompetent to understand the business terms. Instead, they are drawn to someone over his shoulder, pupils blown wide.
"What do you say, Mr Kimber?" he prompts, growing impatient and increasingly apprehensive about the man's attention on the two women he knows are standing behind him at the bar. He hopes he is looking at one of them in particular, that garish red capturing his attention.
"I say you talk business with my accountant," Kimber says dismissively, rising from his seat, "I want to dance."
Tommy follows the man with his eyes as he passes the table, even twisting in his seat to see as the kingpin approaches the bar. He holds his breath as Grace turns to look at him, Maggie staring intently into her glass with her back still turned.
Kimber holds out a hand. Tommy's breath catches as Grace shifts her eyes to Maggie, whose shoulders slump. He has to clear his throat to stop himself from choking as she reluctantly places her hand in the man's and is pulled firmly onto the dancefloor.
Her eyes catch his as they pass. She's scared. He wants to flip the table.
But he is so close!
"How many men can you put out on the field at one time?" the voice of Kimber's accountant breaks through the high pitch alarming in his head.
Tommy struggles to take his eyes away from Maggie as the man twirls her, his hand clawing at her waist. His fingers curl tighter around his cigarette as he forces himself to respond around his tight throat, "There's a lot of men out of work at the moment. Two guards for every bookie."
"At every meeting?"
Tommy inhales sharply as, even through the dense crowd of dancers, he can see the way Maggie's fingers tremble as they hover over Kimber's shoulder, not wanting to touch him.
He has to turn away.
Business is business.
"We have contacts with good people among the Gypsies," Tommy fights his instinct to scream, a chill shuddering along his neck as he thinks of what is happening behind him, as he continues to speak to the accountant, "We'll always know when the Lees plan to attack. With all the strikes and troubles, you can't really depend on the police. Anyway, we're more honest."
The accountant nods, mouth thinned in impressed consideration.
"Looks like you two are making a deal," Kimber says as he rejoins them at the table. Tommy quickly glances behind himself to see Maggie has retreated once again to the bar. Grace has turned to her, a gentle hand placed on her lower arm as if to comfort her, but Maggie is shaking her head, likely insisting she is fine as she always does.
"We are making progress," the accountant informs his boss.
Kimber smirks, spittle wetting his lips, "Then let me throw a small condition into the mix."
Tommy holds back a growl, feeling it burn as it rumbles its way through his chest. He knows what is coming. He has known since their first meeting. Since Kimber laid his black, covetous eyes on her..
At all costs.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Grace," Maggie tries to smile but feels her skin on fire with disgust, "Just spun me too fast."
The other woman lowers her hand from her arm and Maggie braces herself against the bar, reaching for yet another glass of champagne but finding it to be doing nothing for her nerves. It only irritates her stomach further.
"Maggie."
She exhales hearing his voice as he comes to stand beside her. She grips the edge of the bar and twists her mouth before raising her chin and turning to look him in the eye, "Yes, Tommy?"
He won't look her in the eye. They both know what is about to happen.
And in her bitterness, Maggie only wishes Thomas was not so much of a coward as to get it over with.
"So, listen, uh," Tommy stutters, unusually for him, as he sways on his feet, "we are going to go for dinner at Kimber's house. He has a place a couple of miles away."
Maggie only nods once, focusing more on keeping her breathing controlled than the blur of what he is saying. This is why she is here, isn't it? Why she came along? Why he wanted her here?
So why is he still not being honest with her? She holds her hands in front of her skirts, digging her nails into the skin to stop herself from going completely numb.
"I have some business to settle first with his accountant, so, you go on ahead with Kimber."
"Just her and him?" Grace asks, controlling her own outrage, having been watching the exchange between them all afternoon, and finally catching on to what the tension and unease means. Tommy looks at his shoes while Maggie stares straight ahead at the wall. From her observations, Grace knew something was going to happen today from the way they had acted. Things were not so caring and carefree between them as she had begun to grow accustomed to. The easiness between them both that had intrigued her so much upon arriving in Small Heath having turned into something harder, more strained.
It is as if these two - with all their history and loyalty - are strangers.
Even she is struggling to recognise the man standing in front of her. There had been many occasions in the past few months where Thomas Shelby had almost proved her wrong. That he was not a bad man. A violent criminal concerned only with attaining power through causing chaos. But despite those instances, those quiet moments once the Garrison has closed, Grace is unsurprised he could do this to his closest friend.
That is not what makes him so unfamiliar to her now. It is that she has never seen him so uncertain.
"Yeah," Tommy answers shortly, Grace catching onto the slightest twitch of Maggie's eye, "'Til I'm done here."
Grace nods, disbelievingly and looks closer at Maggie, who continues to stare at the wall. She sees the woman's chest inflate as she takes several breaths, her hands lowering themselves to her sides as her shoulders ease from the forced oxygen.
"That alright?" it shocks Maggie to hear him ask. He is looking at her now, she can feel his blue eyes freezing her nerves.
She knows this is why she has been brought here. Unlike the blonde next to her, she knows the reason Tommy had not asked her to dance. She is there as bait. As a means to achieve.
She should say no. She could. The fact he is asking her should be a relief, if only at a little. Proving that he is concerned for her despite his distance.
But there is no option here. Not really.
Maggie knows how important this day is for Tommy, the rest of the Shelby family and their business. They are relying on her. They need her. That's all that matters.
"Yes," Maggie answers, quietly, as if assuring herself more than to be heard by the man in front of her.
Grace shoots her a concerned look, before her brow furrows with fury and she rounds on the man, "You think she's a whore?"
"Everyone's a whore, Grace. We just sell different parts of ourselves," is his clever answer, him not hearing her murmur. He feels wrong, saying it in relation to Maggie. Maggie is far from that. But Tommy seems to get some of his confidence back as Grace challenges him, rising to the instinctive defence.
Maggie wants to cry, can feel herself trembling, but takes in another breath. She whispers, "I can do it."
Tommy nods, slowly, refusing to look at her as he retaliates to the barmaid's indignation, "The deal is he gets two hours with her. Thinks he is a ladies' man, that he can seduce her."
"So she is a clause in a contract?"
Tommy fumes, his fists clenching at his sides. He doesn't need to hear this, already being so close to calling it off himself. Grace posing as an embodiment of that voice in his head screaming at him to stop all of this!
But a force pushes past his shoulder before he can allow that fury to consume him, turn to Kimber himself and sabotage everything he has worked for.
Maggie has stormed past him, head held high and shoulders pulled back as she approaches Kimber's table. Tommy cannot see her face, though assumes it is as blank as it had been when the man swung her about the dancefloor. He watches with Grace as the man reaches a hand out to her with a sly smirk, her accepting and following him out the door without another glance back at them.
Fuck!
At all costs.
"I bet he said you could have me, didn't he?" Kimber's wife scoffs as she sits in the motorcar beside Tommy. Grace is in the backseat, slumped into it as she plays with the hem of her dress.
Tommy has been staring out at the field across from where he parked for the last thirty minutes, not having spoken to her since they left Cheltenham.
"While he has her," Mrs Kimber spits.
Tommy flinches, Grace sees it.
"Well, yours might be a prostitute but I'm not," the woman seethes.
Grace watches the gangster intently, hearing a shuddering breath escape his lips despite his jaw being clenched shut. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his pocket-watch in a tight fist before huffing again and placing it back forcefully.
Two hours, he had told her the deal was. Grace doesn't think it can have been more than one.
No, Maggie is not a whore. So why would Thomas Shelby treat her like one?
Grace did not understand many things about their relationship but had never thought he would have it in him to whore her out for his own ambition. It is starting to hit her just what she has gotten herself wrapped up in. That he is a dangerous man, even willing to use his most loyal friends as bait. And for what? Money?
She had thought he respected the woman. She definitely doted on him, her conversation while they had tea was evident enough of that - let alone what she is putting herself through for him now. So what is his feeling for Maggie?
Grace can tell, as she watches him, and from her observation of his proposal to her earlier about the deal with Kimber - not being able to meet her gaze despite usually being so assured in himself, most of all - that he has reservations about this arrangement. That bulging vein in the side of his shaven head is a sign of possible guilt or regret. Does this man really have a conscience?
But Tommy does have a conscience, and it is screaming at him.
His fingers tremble as they reach for another cigarette, him almost dropping one as his blood burns as it courses quickly through his veins. He can feel Grace boring holes into the back of his head, understanding her anger at him for what he could be allowing to happen as they sit here in the motorcar. And for what? Money?
His mind is running. Not with business or races or anything but her - Maggie!
But she agreed to this. Hadn't she? She came to the races, she knew what he was going to ask of her - not that he ever asked until it was too late.
'She can handle herself' he had said to Grace as they climbed into the car with Kimber's neglected wife. And he truly believes that. But why should she have to?
Can he handle it?
At all costs, another voice speaks to him amongst the chaos, fighting to be heard. It sounds like his father.
But that voice is diminished quieter and quieter with every image of her that flashes behind his eyes. Her name resounds around his skull, hitting him with so much frenzy that it dizzies him.
In War, soldiers have withered under guilt and uncertainty. He has sent many men into danger without a second thought. It has to be done. So does this.
But she is not a soldier. She is Maggie. His Maggie.
He sighs, reaching desperately for the steering wheel and gripping his hands tight around it until they burn. Flexing and clenching, flexing and clenching. He closes his eyes.
At all costs? Is Maggie worth that cost?
He releases the break and stamps his foot onto the pedals before he can conclude that thought.
Maggie looks out the window of the large drawing room, her hands trembling as they reach down to check the knife is still hooked into her stocking. She feels the slightest relief at feeling the solid weapon there.
In any other circumstance, Maggie might find herself impressed by the grandeur of such a mansion. But she finds herself sickened by the pomposity of it all. Her vision is too blurred to take any of it in, pulsating with the quickness of her pulse as she anticipates what is to come.
Maggie's breath hitches as the door clicks open behind her. She refuses to turn until absolutely necessary, not wanting to look at the man she can feel lurking close behind her.
A hand snakes its way around her waist, squeezing tight. She tenses, feeling hot breath by her ear.
"A dance," his slimy voice speaks into her ear.
Her eyes squeeze shut. Maggie reminds herself to breathe as she tries to stall him from the seemingly inevitable, "I'd rather learn more about your home, the gardens are beautiful-"
"It wasn't a question," Kimber growls, the arm around her waist squeezing painfully tight as it twists her around to face him. He throws another arm around her back, trapping her against his chest. She strains to keep her head turned aside and away from his face.
"I'm dizzy from dancing," she attempts, her lips twitching in what she hopes is a smile and not a snarl, "I want to know more about you, Mr Kimber."
He smirks but pulls her closer. She hoped he would be arrogant enough to fall for her trap, start ranting about his own brilliance long enough for the two hours to be over. Seems he only has one thing on his mind as he moves his face closer. She feels his spit spread across her jaw as he latches his hot lips onto her neck.
Maggie throws herself back, using all her anger and disgust to find the strength to push him away. He stumbles back slightly.
His eyes are wide, outraged at her having pushed him. She thinks he might hit her, can see something violent flash across his dark eyes, but instead he turns to grab a glass from the side cabinet. He raises it, his chest inflating, then dropping it to the floor slowly. Maggie flinches as it shatters.
He raises a sickening, challenging brow at her, "Pick it up."
Maggie shudders, recalling the time before he asked her to retrieve something for him - how dirty she felt knowing his eyes had been all over her even in an outfit so modest as her scrubs.
"No."
She hears her voice before she realises she has spoken, surprised by her own tone. Maggie has never heard herself so defiant.
Kimber's brow falls, mouth hanging open, dumbfoundedly.
"You what?"
Maggie rolls her shoulders back, encouraged by her own nerve. Taking a small, brave step forward, she hears shards of broken glass shatter beneath her boot, "No."
He is running at her before she even considers reaching for the knife under her dress. Maggie swats at him with a flurry of open palms and closed fists as he places a hand around the back of her head, fingers twisting cruelly in her hair to force her to face him. Another arm crushes her against him as he tugs the tangles forcefully when she tries to turn away to the window again, trying to lose herself in the trees outside.
"I'm Billy fucking Kimber," is all he says, spittle landing on her cheek. His pupils are blown so wide his eyes seem to have blackened completely, "And I am the boss! You will do as I say!"
She shakes her head, her hair pulling against his gripped hold, nails digging into her scalp as he tries to hold her still, "No!"
He loosens his arm around her back for a moment. She wants to slump away but he holds her tighter by the hair as his palm connects with a crack against her cheek. His ring catches her cheekbone, breaking the skin.
Maggie hisses as he takes a hold of her arm again in a ruthless grip.
"You will do as I say!" he repeats, a monstrous roar.
She breathes in deeply through her nose, numbing herself to the pain so she can look the monster in his black eyes, "No."
Kimber rages, baring his teeth like a mad dog as he twists her by her arm, pushing her against the pool table. Maggie struggles, pushing back against him and trying to flail her legs.
No. She won't stop fighting. No!
Stamping hard on his foot, she manages to wriggle free in his brief hurt. Though Kimber then kicks out with it, tripping her to the floor. Maggie groans as she collides with the hard wood, shards of broken glass tearing into the skin of her arms and fabric of the dress. She grits her teeth, baring through the pain as she begins to crawl - knees sliding and splitting on the glass so as unable to find her feet.
She aims for the door, she has it in sight. More glass penetrates her palms as she pulls herself closer to it-
But two hands grab at her shoulders, pulling her off the floor and against his hot, solid form.
Kimber wraps an arm around her front, pushing at her shoulder to force her to be bent over the table. The other hand returns its grasp in her hair. Maggie locks her back, pulling the muscles tight, trying to stay straightened. She attempts to fight with the arm he has not restrained, smacking at him before lowering it to her thigh.
She can feel the faint outline of the knife tucked in her stocking, but can't reach far enough under her skirts to retrieve it as they struggle. Maggie relents, allowing him to push her further down just for a moment, only to be able to better reach her knife.
But Kimber forces his full body weight on top of her as she continues to kick and slap at him. He removes the hand from her hair to pin down her other arm, diminishing all hope she has of reaching her knife in time. He pins both her hands above her head in one of his, his palms still strong despite the way they slip with the sweat.
Maggie shouts out, a tear slipping from her eye as she feels him reach for the bottom of her skirt. A sickening rip resounds around the room, hot air flooding to her now exposed legs.
"No!"
She can hear him growling, snarling like a beast.
Oh God. No-!
The door slams open.
Kimber's weight relives from her immediately, Maggie finding herself falling flatter against the table without the need to struggle against his weight. Her muscles are numb, trembling as she shakes against the tabletop.
She can hear voices, drowned out by her heartbeat. But the ringing in her ears only relents when she hears him-
"Mr Kimber-!"
"What are you doing here? I still have another hour-!"
"I know! I'm sorry, Mr Kimber-"
Maggie finds the strength to push herself from the pool table, fuelled by the familiar voice. Ignoring the ache of her lacerated arms, her legs carry her over to the man who has burst into the room - Tommy!
Following a relieved instinct, she hobbles to stand behind him. Cradling her arms in her own sore palms as she cowers behind his back, Maggie tries to shrink into herself as to be out of sight of that monster!
Tommy glances quickly at her but refuses to see, afraid to look for too long as his rage will make him do something unretractable. There is still business to be done with Kimber, so he takes a breath and holds out his arms in false remorse to the kingpin.
"Just listen to me," Tommy struggles to catch his breath as he pleads with the man who fumes red from head to toe and hastily re-buttons his trousers, "Wait, listen. I was going to let you go through with it but my conscience got the better of me."
He can feel Maggie's grip pull the back of his jacket, twisting the fabric tightly in her hand as her forehead rests against his back. He almost stumbles under the weight of her pushing against him, her quaking limbs almost too exhausted to stand.
He breathes, planting his feet. He needs to control his rage.
Kimber sends him a bewildered glare, urging him to explain himself.
"She looks good on the outside," Tommy swallows, struggling to come up with an excuse. He had not planned for this, "But she's... she's got the clap."
Kimber physically repulses, taking a disgusted step back, bracing himself against the pool table.
Maggie does not hear any of this, an excruciating ringing in her ears overpowering any understanding of what is happening around her. She grips tighter onto the back of Tommy's jacket, willing him to let them leave - to get far away from that beast.
Tommy tries to ignore her hold as he deals with diffusing Kimber, "You took a shine to her and I thought I could use her. Call it my better nature. Now, can we shake hands and forget this ever happened?"
Her hand falls from his jacket as he takes a step forward and extends a hand to the man. Kimber stares back dumbly and shakes his hand, offended and relieved. Tommy considers giving his fingers a squeeze while they shake, crushing them. He could do it. His fingers shake in anticipation to break them…
But there is business still to be done. Business takes priority.
So he lets go and finally turns.
He faces her now. Faces what he has done to her.
Her dress is torn, ripped from the hem to her upper thigh. There are smaller tears on her chest and sleeves, thin cuts littering her arms. Small shards of glass glisten in the gashes. A bloody scratch lines her cheek, surrounded by a blossoming bruise. She does not look up from the floor. Does not look at him.
And Tommy wants nothing more than to take the kingpin's eyes.
But he steps forward and places his arm under Maggie's before she gives in to her shuddering knees. Before he can turn back around, give in to his urge.
Tommy leads her out the door, almost her entire weight pulled into his side. They walk hastily away to the front of the large house, Maggie not looking at him once. Not saying a word.
He receives a glare from Kimber's wife as they leave the house, though he pays no mind to it as Maggie suddenly shakes off his hold as they reach the car. He stumbles, arms out wide to brace himself. More from the shock of it.
Tommy stares at her as she climbs into the backseat beside Grace, who immediately opens her arm to invite her into an embrace. The barmaid seethes at him as the younger woman begins to shake with sobs, wetting the shoulder of her red dress.
But something in her eye softens as she takes the gangster in. His lack of breath, his worried brow, his tense shoulders-
She can see it. Regret.
Ignoring the sound of Maggie's whimpers, allowing himself to have a moment of relief at having her back with him, he climbs into the driver's seat and takes them away.
Grace looks down to the girl sobbing in her arms, gasping quietly at the injuries she has sustained at the hand of that monster. The Blinder's regret suddenly means little to her once more.
It may have been Billy Kimber who has physically done this to Maggie, but Thomas Shelby is to blame.
This is what he does to people. Uses them. Breaks them. He is cruel.
And yet, Grace finds herself unable to be fully convinced by this.
He went back for her.
Thomas is a bastard to have offered her up like that. He must have known that would be how things were to go. He always knows. It does not take a man of his intelligence to know. And from the way Maggie had reacted and steeled herself while in the ballroom, Grace assumes Maggie knew it too.
So why did either of them allow it to happen? Why did he allow her to do that? For what?
Still, he went back for her.
Despite what has happened today, he must care for the woman.
There is little else that seems to mean anything to a man like Thomas Shelby beyond money and power. To risk ruining all his business with the races and betting licences and Kimber to stop whatever that bastard wanted to do with her?
He cares! He is capable of it, after all!
Perhaps, now knowing this to be true, Maggie is his weak spot. Still the biggest threat to her mission, despite what has happened and what is to come between them, inferring from the state the woman is in now.
Grace had thought she was doing well, with the evening she had spent with Tommy after he shot his horse and having been invited to the races. Was her invite really a date all along? Or had he intended to offer her up instead? If so, would he have done the same for her? Whether he is to blame for the situation or not - would he have jeopardised everything to save her?
She watches the oftentimes Tommy's eyes flit to the mirror, eyes glazing over the shaking form of the girl in the back beside her before intently staring at the road ahead, speeding back to Birmingham. He removes his jacket with his feet still on the pedals, hastily throwing it from his shoulders and passing it back to her. Grace takes it - with Maggie ignoring him - placing it over the other girl. Tommy's knuckles are white as they re-curl themselves tightly against the steering wheel.
Yes, despite everything that has happened and in his own twisted way, Tommy cares for her a great deal. Maybe Grace should take inspiration from the man himself and use her. Use Maggie against him.