A/N: Writing this chapter, I've been listening to Arcade from Duncan Laurence, it's from a singer from my home country (yay Dutchies yay) and very suiting for Tommy's state of mind.

Chapter 27) Post-Somme all over

.-.-.

Tommy's body felt comfortably numb when he came to a half conscious state. An IV needle pierced through his skin, momentarily subduing the pain. His eyes darted around beneath his lids and he could overhear voices.

Drained from energy he felt detached from his body, numbed by painkillers. A complete contrast of the last time he'd been conscious, the memory of the excruciating pain lay fresh in his memory. So this bizarre numbness, it didn't ease the on-edge feeling. It didn't lull the flight or fight in his soldiers mind.

This strange out-of-body experience made his stomach tighten and his throat go bone dry.

Scanning his surroundings was going to be deviant task. What if he'd open his eyes and he was back at the quarters of Russo? In this state he was unable to stop whatever form of violence the Italian would cast down upon him. And Maria, the girl was his weakness. Russo knew he cared for his speaker and would be most happy to inflict the worst punishment down on her while he helplessly watched.

Disoriented, he tried to looked through his lashes to discover his whereabouts. Familiar white tiled walls, briefly cleared the thickness of his throat. So, they made it to the hospital.

The voices paused their soft mummering. Familiar ones. He recognized the gruff voice of Arthur, thickened with concern. Ada's silvery tone, never able to zip her lips. John's tremulous curses sounded like music to his ears. Finn's rapid footsteps tottered through the room and Polly scolded his younger brother to stop playing around.

His kin was present, but where was his speaker? He needed to know for certain that she was alright.

Softly he moaned, breaking his head to recover his short-term memory. Snapshots of fading in and out of conscious. Laying on cold moist stones, screaming his throat raw from the pain of his dislocated shoulder, Maria forced down on her knees.

His jaws clenched and his left hands balled into a fist.

Then slowly it came to mind that Russo had fled, with his mutilated cock wrapped in his hands.

Clever girl…

With the delightful memory of Russo's face in utter panic, Tommy opened one eye.

The little sign of consciousness was enough to send a shockwave through the room. While his vision still blurred he noticed familiar contours rushing to his bed.

"He's waking up!" The loud, skull piercing voice of Arthur beckoned relieved. Tommy felt the petite familiar form of Ada's hand wrapping itself firmly around his left and squeeze it tight.

Lacking the strength to mimic her motion he coughed and tried to clear the thick lump form his throat. His mouth felt like sandpaper and his face felt wrong, different, as if it wasn't his own. His brain started to register the absence of his right eye and panic knotted around his neck as a slipknot. Had the beaten taken its toll on his already damage head? Had he gone partly blind?

If so, could one of his brothers find it in their heart to smother him with a pillow?

Then he remembered a particular fine boot ungracefully stomping down on his face, snapping his cheekbone. He simply wasn't using his right eye because the swelling wouldn't allow it.

Oh, what a pitiful beat up sight he must be.

"Thomas, can you hear us?" The dark contour of his aunt Pol reached forward, stroking his disheveled hair.

A disapproving groan escaped the back of his throat and he turned his face away. He wasn't her fucking lap dog.

His family was safe. That realisation meant the world to him, but immediately created a long gaping wound. They were alright and he wasn't, far from it. And they were all in line to clarify that.

His family, their presence crippled him. They where the weight of the world he'd tried to maintain on his shoulders. And then there were his own demons he could not kill. Shame and inner resentment where like two mongrel dogs, either one sinking their teeth in his calves and tugging him off-balance.

His family, although he loved them more then he valued his life, they needed to get out of the room. Go. He was hurt, badly. Once the sedatives wore off, he'd be in a great deal of pain. And it was his duty to carry that burden, alone. He'd been through it before. But he honestly couldn't stand the thought of anyone standing aside if he might lose control.

"Tommy!" His youngest brother pushed himself through the layer of adults and clung to his bedsheets. The wailing of the youngster caused him to grunt and he tried to move his right hand towards the heart shattering noise.

His right shoulder burned even through the high doses of painkillers and he was surprised to find out a sling enabled him to move his injured limb.

For fucks sake, they might as well tie him down to the fucking bed. With vision clearing, the faces of his family became painfully clear of their shared distress.

This was the post-Somme all over again.

He groaned and flinched when one of his brother's took hold of his good shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

Their presence was honestly paralyzing and caused more stress than good.

"I think he wants to say something," John stated with a poor pick of words, making Tommy's good eye roll to the back of his skull.

"Thomas, would you like to write anything down?" Polly asked him soft and kindly. Her caring word only stirred up the fire inside his chest, but he nodded, letting his eyes shifted over everyone present inside the room.

Ada and Finn sat at his left, both at eye level, which he quickly dodged. Arthur and John stood at his right, towering over him. Polly walked across the room to fetch him a pen and a piece of paper.

Receiving a basic way of expressing himself his inexperience fingers of his left hand awkwardly curled around the pen.

His message was short and blunt: Get out. The characters where shivery and messy, it caused him tremendous effort to keep the pen steady in his hand.

When he didn't receive the response he wanted, he underlined his message and dropped the pen on the floor, cutting himself off from communication.

"Let's give him a moment, everyone," Polly decided, continuing in the same soft spoken tone. Her frail bearing plagued him, she stood there as if she was at his fucking funeral. Gravely moarnsome and deseveled from her usual strong self.

Tommy glared at her, although with a face like his it probably didn't show.

Ada ushered the bawling Finn to move away from his bed. But his younger brother only tightened his fists firmer around the white sheets.

"NO, I'm not going! Last time you never took me to the hospital. I wanna be here, I wanna stay with Tommy!" His youngest brother shouted, throwing his head back in his neck. "It's not fair, everyone always treats me like a child!"

"That's because you are one!" Ada snapped and caught him firmly by the elbow, "now shut it. You're able to bring the entire morgue back to life with a sound like that!" Pointing back at Tommy she continued, "he's hurt, you're screaming isn't helping. So stop it and do what Polly says."

"Tommy?" Finn's trembling fingers run over the back of Tommy's hand. For a moment he granted his little brother a sideway stare. "Please, be alright."

Tommy blinked with the one eye that functioned and focused on the door. Disappointed but obedient his little brother followed the rest of the family out of the hospital room.

Only Polly remained at his bedside and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully when Tommy drew a tiny cross on his chest.

"The girl?" Polly questioned. "You're concerned about her?"

Tommy managed to give his aunt a tiny affirmative nod. Exhaustion was creeping up on him and the last thing on his mind was having a conversation with his aunt, but he know for certain Maria was alright.

"She banged her head during the collision, but she'll live." Polly informed him factual, wrapping her hands together and placing them on the side of the bed. "She's safe. And so is her family, their all at our house, for the time being."

Relieve washed over him. She was safe.

That was all the information he needed from his aunt. Slowly he nudged his head at the door and pulled his hand back when his aunt tried to hold it.

Polly's eyes lost their caresome glow, her lips pressed into a tight line as she whispered. "Don't do this, Tom, don't cast us out like you did before."

Tommy growled and with all the effort he could muster he gave her wrists a faint push. He didn't want her to be near. Not right now, not like this. Not today and not tomorrow. This was his cross to bear, he needed to do this alone.

"No, you're not doing this again!" Polly resolutely snapped and took hold of his jaw. She knew it must be painful, it was pretty obvious with a mangled face like that. But her grip didn't ease and she forced him to look her in the eyes.

"I will not have it, you are not go to lock yourself away from our family. Don't you dare Thomas Shelby."

Even in this state, she was not going to pressure him into anything he didn't want to be doing. And right now he didn't want her to have a conversation with him.

So, Tommy threw in his last resort and closed his eye. Of all the Shelby brother's he'd always been the most stubborn one. His mum had sneered numerous of times that his hardheadedness would be the end of him. His mum only failed to realise it was his stubbornness and resilience that kept their family out of the poorhouse and provided food on the table. Back in the day, he'd throw that at her feet, every time she'd scorn at him for being just like his father.

And that was the big difference between his mum and his aunt. While his mum would surrender to his enheritate callousness and lack of respect, his aunt would throw his misdeeds at his feet and cut him to the bone.

"I've given you back a voice, I've gotten you out of those damn stables. I'm not letting you dwell back on your path to self destruction and suicide, I will not have it!"

Fuck. His good eye flashed back open and his mouth dropped slightly ajar, he hadn't been aware of her knowledge of the lonesome road he'd settled with.

"Oh, I knew," Polly answered his silent question, "damn you for being so blind, Tom. I've known you since you where a child, raised you as my own. I love you and will murder for you. But that doesn't mean I'll patiently stand aside while I see you slowly kill yourself. You've always been the hardest one to love, simply because you don't allow yourself to be loved. You don't allow yourself to take your guard down or feel something. Anything. You are calloused and hide everything behind that stoic mask of yours. I know it pains you to see us here, but damn it, Thomas, allow us to be here. We've mourned for you, hell, we've all shed our tears for you. We love you and want you to be a part of our family."

Her words cut him like knives. She'd seen him, the real him. The broken man behind the mask. The man that didn't think his life was worth living. Not like this, not while missing such a big piece that made him whole and complete. Not while he lost his speech, locked up and shut out of the rest of the world.

Tommy persistently closed his left eye and tilted his head away from his aunt.

And that was another weight being thrown on his shoulders. He still had to inform his family about the outcome of his hospital appointment with Dr Rivers. That yes, matter of fact, their brother and nephew would remain handicapped for the rest of his life. That yes, his brain damage was too severe to regain his speech. That he'd be forever trapped inside a body that couldn't utter a fucking word.

And that he could never be the Tommy Shelby from before. That a part of him would remain dead and rotting at the Somme.

As he kept his eyelids firmly in place he overheard her sigh and curse underneath her breath. In defeat his aunt stood up and let him be, just as he'd intended to. As was necessary to keep his head from falling further apart.

.-.-.

She'd been reading for quite a while before she noticed any sign of consciousness coming from her employer. Startled, she folded the page she'd been reading and placed the worn cover of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz on top of the iron nightstand.

It took him two blinks before recognition dawned from his face. Failing to raise his arm to hers, he sighed deeply and carefully touched his own forehead and lower lip.

"It's nothing," Maria whispered, referring to her cut and busted lip.

Tommy didn't respond, looking past her, scanning his surroundings. Weakly he tapped on his wrist.

"It's half past twelve in the afternoon, you've slept an awful long time." She informed him.

Tommy fumbled with his white sheets and started fingerspelling: R-u-s-s-o.

"Your brothers are after him. Word's out on the streets, he has a major prize on his head. But so far their hunt has been fruitless," Maria had to say to her displeasure, then continued, "your aunt is meeting with the head of the hospital. Mending walls...well mending about literally the wall, I guess. She will be back soon."

He nodded slow, flinched and baring his teeth. Clearly the drugs were wearing off.

"I shall get the nurse, you're allowed to take more morphine if you need it." Maria told him and was surprised to see him shake his head.

"You don't want me to get the nurse?"

A nod.

She furrowed her brows, searching for his motives. "You don't want to take more pain medication?"

Another nod.

"Why not?"

He raised one eyebrow and Maria realised she asked him an open question.

"But you're in pain," she stated, failing to find the right question.

He shrugged with his left shoulder and threw his gaze upwards, face wrenching from pain.

Tommy's stubbornness baffled Maria and the familiar pain plagued moans rabitly brought back memories of Russo's basement. Instead of an icy cold floor her employer withered in his hospital bed, tangling the sheets in between his fingers.

The poor girl didn't know how fast she could get on her feet to find a nurse.

Within minutes she came back to Tommy's ward. The Shelby family had paid an immense fee to maintain a private room for him. A good spend, because Tommy was at the end of his wits. Sweat gushed down his neck and his sounds nearly seemed unearthly.

One of nurses she'd met briefly followed right behind her holding a syringe and a new IV bag. The look on Tommy's face was enough to murder a fully grown man. His pupils flared up when the docile nurse in arms length and reached up to change his empty IV bag.

"You're at a starting dose of 2.5 mg morphine, for every for hours," The nurse informed her hostile patient, "I can higher the dose to 5 mg for you."

Tommy shook his head determinedly, confusing the caretaker.

"He doesn't want it," Maria clarified, nervously plucking on her sleeve.

"But you are in pain mister Shelby, there is no shame in taking that away." The nurse consoled, reading over his shard.

Tommy remained to shake affirmatively.

The nurse exchanged gazes with Maria and eyed up her patient's bearing.

"I will be back in fifteen minutes," she announced, experienced with bullheaded patients.

Clearly the nurse was a star at her profession, because within fifteen minutes Tommy was back in full agony, sucking in breaths of air through his teeth.

"Would you like to get a higher doses now, Mister Shelby?"

A faint nod was enough for the nurse to fulfil her task and reduce her patient's pain. The morphine kicked in quite rapidly. Tommy's breathing steadied and his muscles gradually relaxed.

Scribbling down something on Tommy's shard the nurse excused herself and left to take care of other patients.

Maria knew it was wise to keep her mouth shut and quietly held out a glass of water, so he could sip from a straw.

He glared at her but wetted his chapped lips and sucked on the straw. Draining the glass his eyes received a glazed stare, the morphine took over.

N-e-e-d-t-o-t-a-k-e-a-p-i-s-s, Tommy's fingers sloppily spelled, his head nudged towards a chamberpot.

Maria's cheeks flushed and found it difficult to be the one to inform him "You have a catheter," she murmured awkwardly and confused on the tip of her shoes.

She overheard Tommy grunt as he pulled his blankets up to see the damage and sighed deeply when he lowered the sheets over his chest.

G-o-h-o-m-e, Tommy spelled when she looked up.

"But I'm your speaker," she stated, half pleading. She'd practically begged his brother Arthur to take her back to the hospital. The oldest of the Shelby's had been reluctant at first, but when she stated that she wasn't much use at the house and would be a great contribute as Tommy's speaker, he eventually gave in. Polly had been anything but pleased to see her appear behind Arthur and threw a fit.

Maria had been quiet when Polly badmouthed about her. Clutching her hands around her book and waited patiently to be either granted permission to stay or to be kicked out. That would be the worst case scenario, but even then, at least she'd been out of the house for a while.

The tension in Watery Lane was more than suffocation. She hadn't slept, all through the night images of Russo's basement kept her up. Scared to fall asleep and wake up crying, frightening her sisters and mum, she'd firmly kept her eyes open until the early morning.

All through the house she had to walk on eggshells. Ada wasn't on speaking terms and ignored her with a chin-up attitude. Finn was kind to her but kept babbling all kinds of questions she'd rather not answer. Her mum tried a vary of tactics to get any word out of her, but she didn't budge. She'd rather sow her lips together then telling her mum about last night affair.

The two older Shelby brother's came back shortly after breakfast. Worn, tired and unsuccessful to hunt down Russo or even get a hint on his whereabouts. Therefore both of them where in a sour mood and snarled at her to bring them coffee and toast.

When John headed upstairs to change into a fresh outfit, Maria used that time pleading to Arthur. The leader of the Peaky Blinders appeared harsh with his gruff voice and large supply of never ending curse words, but he treated her better than John and therefore seemed more reasonable.

When he eventually snapped at her to 'get in the fucking car,' she'd eagerly obeyed and snatched the only book off the shelf. She'd figured that Tommy would remain unconscious for a while and she'd rather spend that time reading then counting tiles.

"Would you rather have your aunt at your bedside?" Maria questioned.

Tommy seemed to weigh out his options and sighed deeply. Dozed he raised his fingers to his lips and mimicked a cigarette.

"I don't have any on me," Maria informed him hesitant, "and you're not allowed to smoke in here." She was granted a raised middle finger and an eye roll. His gaze fixated on the book resting on the iron cart.

F-i-n-n, he fingerspelled, nudging his chin towards the worn edition of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

F-a-v-o-r-i-t-e, he continued and his features softened.

Maria noticed and used his easing state to her advantage.

"It used to be my favorite book too. My nana gave it to me for my sixth birthday. She used the story to teach my how to read. I'd never been as gifted as my brother, and a mess with reading. I'd always mix the characters and had a terrible handwriting. I've never been fond of reading, but that book made it more fun. I read it all the time. But then my nana died rather suddenly. I couldn't stand reading a page and never picked it up ever since."

She smiled watery, remembering the countless hours she'd spend on her nana's lap, reading the words after her.

"It's a lovely story," she stated, staring at the faded drawing of the cowardly lion, "I can imagine you reading it to Finn."

T-h-o-u-s-a-n-d-t-i-m-e-s, Tommy spelled sloppy, b-e-f-o-r-e.

"France," Maria filled in softly and Tommy blinked his good eye.

R-e-a-d, Tommy spelled and shifted uncomfortably in his bed. For a moment pain flashed upon his face and he pulled the sheets up to his chest, t-o-m-e.

For a moment Maria thought she'd misinterpreted his spelling but when he nudged his chin to the cart she eagerly picked up the book.

In a quiet gentle voice she started to read the first chapter. Ever so often she'd glance over the novel and catch Tommy's empty stare fixation on the wall facing him. The drawn-down corners of his mouth exposed the plagued state he was in.

But he didn't send her away and listened to her storytelling. He snorted when she stuttered, misreading a word.

After a few pages Tommy's bearing relaxed and slowly lulled back to sleep.

It was Polly who made him snap his good eye back open and startled Maria. Quickly she lowered the book and stopped reading.

"You're awake!" Polly exclaimed breathlessly and ushered Maria off her seat, "Good, Finn and Ada will be here soon!" Positioning herself next to her nephew she picked up his good hand and pressed it against her cheek. "Let them in."

Maria was aware that Polly wasn't talking in the literal way and felt oddly out of place.

As an intruder. And Polly made her very aware that her presence was no longer wanted. The older woman didn't need to say her word, her stern gaze was enough to get her going.

"You can wait down at the reception, either John or Arthur will escort you home. You will stay there until further notice." Polly informed her coldly, clearly annoyed that Arthur dropped her off in the first place.

Maria quickly silenced the burning desire to stand up to Polly. Reveal that, she was the reason they made it out of Russo's hellhole. But that would probably demolish whatever was left of Tommy's self esteem and confession that she'd pulled a gun on herself frightened her.

So she sucked up her pride, bit her lower lip and duck her hands in her pockets, ready to leave.

Her fingers brushed over the leather cover of Tommy's old notebook. She'd snatched it out of Tommy's jacket when they were tossed into the basement. Fearing what possible asset the notes could be for Russo she'd hid it in the hem of her underskirt.

Because of the literal hell she'd went through the notebook had been the least thing on her mind. She'd refound the notebook in the morning after receiving clean clothes by a pinch-lipped Ada who announced that she needed to clean her trash out of their bathroom. With trash the teenage girl meant Maria's bloody clothes.

She'd planned to give the notebook back to Tommy, but Polly's staredown made it quite clear that she needed to leave the room, right this instant.

"Bye, Tommy." She muttered hastily, picked up Finn's favorite book and quickly tottered out into the hallway. Halfway downstairs she crossed Finn, Ada, and Arthur. To her dread she realised that meant she'd been brought back to Watery Lane by John.

The car ride was fast and unpleasant. Besides John snarling about the fact that he wasn't her 'fucking chauffeur', the young man didn't speak a word with her.

When John dropped her off he immediately took off, heading back to the hospital. A grim looking man with a large shining earring and a Peaky hat was posting at the doorway and introduce himself as Scutboat. He opened the door for her, informing her that he'd be at the house for the next eight hours or so.

Maria's mother shook up from a slumber and sat up from a leather arm chair. The dark circles underneath her eyes were enough to tell Maria that the both of them had been pretended to be asleep last night.

Talk to me, her mum signed, who's the Italian?

Maria wasn't surprised by her mother's question. Keen on finding out about her daughters late nights wearabouts and bloody clothes she'd probably read everyone's lips, while playing stupid.

"A bad man mum, a very bad man," she shared reluctant, "you need to promise me to keep April, May, and yourself inside this house. Until they find him, it's not safe to go outside."

Then why do you go outside, totter of with those wicked lots? Her mother fired back.

"Because Tommy needs my assistance," she snapped, "because it's my job and because I want to. That Russo is a sick man and needs to pay for all the crimes he commited."

And how will he pay? He mother questioned, raising an eyebrow, so far I've seen guns being brought into this house. And knives, even an musket. These people will play for their own judge and that's immoral. Criminal and against the law.

It shocked her how indifferent she felt about the possible assassination of Russo. That man would probably slither his way out with a great sum of money before he even made it to trial. And a man that wicked did not deserve to walk away from his horrendous crimes. He needed to pay.

"Read my lips mum. I don't want to talk about this with you, just promise me you'll keep yourself and the twins safe inside." She told her mother firmly.

Snatching a few biscuits from the counter she headed upstairs, in need for some solitude.

.-.-.

A/N: Oh, isn't Tommy cute when he's all busted, depressed and hospitalised? Yes, I think so to. I'm going to exploit his misery a bit more because I really loved writing this damaged side of him.

Next chapter might take a while, I'm going on a holiday pretty soon and work is very time consuming at the moment. I might be able to squeeze in another chapter before I go, but if not, please bear with me.

Xoxoxo Nukyster