Chapter 40) One Day

.-.-.

The tips of her lips still burned and her stomach turned as they exited the Church. Flushed, filled with mixed emotions and anticipation, she peeked over her shoulder to the agitated preacher.

What on earth had erupted between the both of them inside the Basilica of Saint Nicolas?

Tommy didn't make his feelings visible, but his arm still remained warm and heavy around her waist as he pulled her through the crowd. Maria was clueless of where he was taking her and cherished the way she was being held. He was close, close enough for her to smell the scent of cigarettes and whiskey imbedded into the thick fabric of his coat. It wasn't an unpleasant smell.

She was speechless, partly because she didn't know what to say and partly because she didn't want this moment to end. It will be, had been a lie, but a sacred one without a doubt. If she'd still believed in fairytales and knew right from wrong, then maybe she would have believed Tommy.

It was wrong to find comfort in a lie, it was wrong to find comfort in a kiss, in this close contact, but in all honesty, it was all she had.

She wondered if she hadn't of asked for a cigarette, how long Tommy would have pulled her along through the streets of Amsterdam.

The burn inside her lungs lasted long enough to foretell her future death-bed, but the comforting shelter of nicotine won. As she allowed herself to breath, grey smoke curled up from her nostrils, matching the gloomy Dutch skyline.

Tommy's arm had abandoned her waist to light a cigarette for himself and it left her cold. It was strange how comforting and reassuring his strong and deadly hand had felt, resting on the curve of her hip.

His piercing eyes wandered through the crowd, while hers stayed locked on him. Her body numbed as the toxic stench filled her lungs again.

A thousand questions burned on the tip of her tongue but not once did she dare ask because here, in the open, Tommy would no longer lie to her and she wasn't ready to hear the truth.

Fixated on the end of her cigarette, she nearly missed Tommy's hands leveling to chest height and reflexively her eyes scanned his motions.

Where do you want to go? His hands signed, a central point to stare at because she was still too cowardly to look him straight in the face.

It suddenly occurred to her that today was their last day in Amsterdam and although she disliked the Dutch city with its high crime rates, extensive prostitution district, and drug related activities, Amsterdam did have a lot of hidden beauty.

For the first time since her arrival, she didn't see the foreign country as a threat, although the memory of staring into the barrel of a gun was still vivid.

The tips of her lips felt sensitive around the cigarette and she exhaled long and deep, her head was such a mess; a beehive of highs and lows, fearing for her life, craving to return a kiss, stealing glances at the man who tasted like Whiskey and cigarettes.

Her cheeks felt hot as she realised she'd been staring at his lips for too long without an answer. Hurriedly, she lowered her gaze and awkwardly tipped the ash from her cigarette.

Coming from a small town, she hardly ever witnessed any high-class culture, besides the pictures in school books. Her parents did not have the money to spend on art and feared creativity might interfere with her tasks around the farm. She didn't want to burden her parents, so she never asked for money to spend on papers and pencils, although she loved drawing. When her parents took her out of dancing classes she'd been heartbroken but did not object.

She'd never been to a museum before, but then it struck her. No less than half a day ago she'd been held at gunpoint in a room crammed with paintings. The thought alone took her breath away and made her cringe. Surrounding herself with art was suddenly very low on her wish list.

Childish enthusiasm made itself present when another long cherished dream bubbled up.

To keep her face from lighting up like a Christmas tree, Maria took another drag of her cigarette; "I've never been to a zoo before."

.-.-.

An animal as large as a house gracefully paced up and down its cage. Pillar-like legs carried the great weight with ease, as it stretched it's trunk to reach for an apple. Two massive tusks protruded out, impressive enough to make any predator think twice about attacking.

An elephant, she was seeing an elephant with her own eyes and it made her pinch herself.

"I've read about them," she said. Now that she regained her voice, words started to seep out of her mouth like a waterfall, "they can live up to seventy years and the females live in groups. They're very kind and intelligent. They even show signs of empathy."

That makes them better than most humans, Tommy petulantly pointed out staring up at the large passive animal. Amusement and awe lay in his eyes and how could there be anything besides that, when witnessing such a perfect product of nature.

Tommy's silence admiration was endearing, charming the anxiety inside her chest. Maybe their moment hadn't ended, maybe her silent wish stretched out long enough to last the day. Just a few more hours in which she didn't need to think, panic or fear for her life. She wanted to be lost inside the brighter side of Amsterdam and not care who might see how she didn't allow much space between herself and Tommy.

"There are Zebra's too," Maria read from a sign, "did you know that no one has ever tamed a Zebra?" Tilting her chin up to catch his reaction she smiled brightly when he reached for her shoulder and nudge her towards the Zebra exhibit, "you'd be the first man to tame a Zebra."

Tommy scrunched his eyebrows and gave her a questioning look.

Maria responded with a toothy smile: "You know, with your Gypsy magic," she joked lightly and had to restrain herself from jumping up and down as she spotted a small herd of the striped horses, "maybe Precious would like a brother or two."

When Tommy laughed, her heart leaped. It wasn't just the sound, it was his expression. The way his face twitched and his eyes changed from their usual cold glance to a much lighter one. It made her smile, oddly aware of how natural it felt.

His hand never left her shoulder as he guided her through the zoo as if he owned the place.

Natura Artis Magistra, was located in the centre of Amsterdam and not only possessed a zoo, but also contained an aquarium and a planetarium.

Planting her hands against the fist thick glass of a marine exhibition, Maria watched a large variety of colorful fish swim by.

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" She gasped breathlessly, "If I could breathe underwater I'd never leave the sea."

Tommy's face illuminated in the bluish light of the aquarium, playing with the contours of his face. It made him look ghostly, half-dead half-alive, existing in purgatory. His eyes had lost its warmth and stared vacantly at the thick glass, Maria wondered if he even noticed the exotic fish swimming around.

"Tommy, are you alright?" she asked concerned and repeated his name when her words failed to get through to him.

He scratched the back of his head, granting her an apologetic smile, ignoring her troubled expression as he maneuvered her out of the exhibition into the open air.

There was a tremor in his hand, forcing his fingers to twist around her shoulder. Both ignored it and continued their walk through the zoo. Although Tommy did his best to hide it, soon it became inevitable that there was something wrong with him. The tensing of his facial muscles, the rigid way he scanned through the crowds, he nodded mechanically while listening to Maria's chit-chat without actually hearing her.

Abruptly, he crouched down to his knees, breathing unsteadily through his half-open mouth, furiously rubbing his face.

He raised his hand when Maria wanted to kneel down beside him, stopping her descend. Unsure, Maria steadied herself on her feet. As a silent witness, she watched Tommy fight and conquer the oncoming panic by squeezing his eyes shut and biting through it.

After a few minutes, Tommy got back on his feet, straightened his jacket and cured the tremors in his hand by lighting a cigarette. The complexion of his facial skin had a sickly grey color to it and the near manic glow in his eyes reminded Maria of time he came into her hotel room petrified and hyperventilating.

"Tommy what-" Maria stopped herself; it was evident that Tommy would not share any of his demons, not at this point. So instead of giving him the feeling that she pitied him, she rephrased herself: "-can I have a cigarette too?"

A fraction of the tension left his face, grateful for her reaction; he took the cigarette from his lips and pressed it against hers. While smoking, Tommy's avoidance of eye contact remained.

It's the language, he bluntly explained with hasty gestures, it's so alike, in an instant I'm back standing knee-deep in soil and blood, spitefully he chuckled, I can fucking smell the Somme. Gritting his teeth, Tommy rubbed his eyes and wiped the cold sweat off his forehead.

It's a constant fucking nightmare, he silently admitted, and it makes me want to drink more and care less, cause the more you feel, the more it hurts. I can't have 'this'- Tommy paused his signs to flag his arms at the animated visitors and then dug his index finger against his temple, -cause if I let my guard down, it turns into a fucking massacre in here, sucking on his cigarette Tommy vacantly stared at the tips of his shoes, I can't get rid of the fighting, the dead, it's all I'm good at. All I'm fucking good at.

"You're a fool for believing in your own nonsense Tommy Shelby?" Maria spoke kindheartedly, "don't you remember? You brought Precious into this world."

Tommy rolled his eyes frustrated, one horse doesn't make up for all the men I killed, staring at the palms of his hands he fisted them tightly for a mere moment, I'm not a good man!

"You're not," Maria answered truthfully, "but you're not a monster either."

In a weak attempt to remain behind hidden behind the mask of callousness, Tommy huffed indifferent, but the returning tremor in his fingertips showed how he struggled to keep up with the train wreck of emotions.

His cigarette fell at his feet, only partly smoked. The professional man was all gone and his eyes were different, less tarnished and dark.

In a strange out of worldly way, it seemed that Tommy Shelby, the man who had no religion, wanted to confess. Make amends, repent.

I went to France for the same reason as your brother, idiotic heroism. To do good, for once, Tommy started, and the only thing I've learned is that us men are no better than beasts, we're worse. I didn't believe in God before and when I got back I only knew one thing for certain, we're our own devils. The only thing I bet my money on is the depravity of the human race. And then you, Holy Mary, crossed my path, he stared at her intently, and you don't make any sense to me.

The way he looked at Maria turned her mouth dry and her courage retreated like a dog being kicked by its owner. It was too much too fast and she hadn't been able to brace herself for the leaping fall of her heart.

He was her vice, simple as that. Weakening her knees, weakening her heart. Corrupting her moral compass and mortal soul.

And in spite of everything, all she wanted was to be strong enough to carry him to the other side of the world, away from the maddening foreign tongues, the smoke and soil cluttered streets. Allow him a new place, to heal and warm up his frozen heart.

"You can be a good man," her words were as much as a promise as the one Tommy silently mouthed inside the church. Maybe both their words won't have any meaning once they were heading home, wearing their suits and Catholic vows to mask their shared hopelessness.

But today, right here in Amsterdam, both their promises meant something. And she hoped they could last one day, until their ferry brought them back to their homeland.

Like a love deprived child, Tommy's forehead pressed against hers, his hands outlining her features until resting on both her shoulders. Although his body was physically stronger, it was him who needed protection.

Wrapping his arms around her frail body, Maria allowed herself to get lost inside the warmth and closeness, burying her face inside the thick fabric of his jacket. She wanted to soothe and nurse the inner turmoil inside his chest, at least for one day. He deserved to enjoy one day with peace of mind, he deserved a lot more than what life had offered him.

Why on earth did their paths cross if it was sinful to comfort one another? A part of her wished she was back at Small Heath, because in that damned city there were a thousand prying eyes keeping her firmly in line. Here in Amsterdam, she was just a young woman and Tommy was just a man. The absence of all those eyes, her mother's warnings, Tommy's scornful relatives, destroyed the boundaries she'd set for herself. Lines were crossed, rules were broken and she kissed him again. It wasn't bold, but neither was it a simple peck on the lips.

Tommy's response was instant and invasive. It was clear he was older and had much more experienced, pressing up against her, taking control of the kiss.

His hands, capable of inflicting immense harm, simply held her. And it was enough; it was enough to blow away all those crippling thoughts, the resentment towards her own aching body. It casted out the harsh words and fists from her uncle, the belittling glares of her aunt, the traumatizing flogging of her father and her mother's stern, disappointing gaze.

Besides, their act of comfort happened a thousand miles away from Small Heath. An entire sea separated them from the Birmingham masses. No-one would know and realising that was utterly liberating.

People passed them, unaware of the criminal corrupting the little saint in the most delicate way.

Tommy left her breathless, ending their kiss as sudden as it started. Touching the base of her neck his blue eyes shimmered presumptuous and his lips pursed into a mocking grin.

Feeling a warm flush spread over her cheeks, Maria avoided eye contact and awkwardly took a step back. Tilting her head sideways and forcing her gaze firmly towards the herd of Zebra's she muttered: "we should go, it's almost closing time."

Tommy sniggered, tipping his hat a bit back and returning his arm back around her shoulder, he guided her towards the exit of the zoo.

His body was close enough for her to feel the contours of his revolver inside its holster. Together with the razor sharp peak of his flat cap, it made her feel oddly safe and satisfied.

.-.-.

For someone who mainly believed in Gypsy witchcraft and ancient superstition, Tommy felt rather blessed. If there was a God, the bastard had a twisted sense of humor.

Although he'd utterly despised his aunt for fetching him a personal aid, Maria had been a blessing from the start. Of course it lay in his nature to push and kick away anyone who tried to reach out to him. Tommy had always firmly believed that outsiders would ruin him. At times even kin tried to end his life, starting with his father's angry fists and his mother's utter disinterest.

Polly had showed him that outsiders could be beneficial, of course it took him ages to trust her and aunt Poll was family by blood.

What on earth was he doing? Rationality no longer conquered his heart and it felt strange not walking around with a secret agenda. For the first time, in a very long time, he simply reacted to impulses and had hesitantly lowered the walls of his fortress of solitude.

Their first kiss had not been planned, nothing had been planned from the moment Tommy decided he would accompany Maria during their last day in Amsterdam, in spite of Arthur's objections.

He'd felt reluctant to present himself in the house of God, because he had absolutely no reason for being there. Some would say it was an abomination and most would agree if they'd witnessed him kiss a good Catholic lass inside the church.

Poll would claim Maria bewitched him. Because the truth was, Maria did things to him. Her light touches, her shy kisses, brought him more comfort than all the whores who willingly spread their legs. He could not find better words; she made him feel weak.

Yet the longing inside his heart won over the gut impulse to push her away. He wanted her, in every possible way and he could no longer deny it.

Arthur had been right when he called Maria their lucky charm; she had brought about wealth and fortune to their business. She'd been the main reason the Blinders now owned the Shepard, cut a deal across the ocean and Tommy could not recall her asking for anything in return. Besides a roof over her head and enough money to provide for her family.

Maybe she possessed enough innocence for them both; maybe she was enough to melt his cold black heart. To rid him from the continuing war inside his head.

At the market, Maria excused herself and started counting her pennies, "can I change some with your Dutch coins?" she asked, holding up the content of her wallet, "I'd like to buy some gifts for my sisters and my mum," her face clouded when she mentioned her mother, "she doesn't know where I am."

Tommy instantly remembered how she'd pleaded to remain in Small Heath. Back then he still held a grudge against her and hadn't cared about her dislike of traveling to Amsterdam with them.

"I slipped her some of your sleeping pills again," Maria uncomfortably confessed, "the night before we left, I did leave a note though, saying I'd be back on Monday."

It bothered him that during their entire journey across the sea, their travel towards and in Amsterdam, during his nightly meltdown and during their meeting as she'd been held at gunpoint, he'd never dwelled on how she must be feeling.

The poor thing had felt obligated to drug her mother and sneak out of her own home like a thief in the night, only to be pulled into another act of crime. And being her obedient self she never complained about a thing.

Tommy emptied the contents of his wallet, seeking out all of his Dutch coins, handing it over.

Maria's face lightened up and after quickly excusing herself the young woman disappeared into the mass of stalls and people.

Being in the middle of market centre raced up Tommy's heart, he could feel it thump inside his throat. In a weak attempt to mellow his instant flight or fight instinct he lit a cigarette. Luckily, Maria did not take too long to return, holding up a big paper bag filled with stroopwafels; Dutch pastries, and two bags of tulip bulbs.

"My mum loves flowers, she used to have a rose garden," Maria said, munching on the sweets.

They headed back towards the hotel complex. Walking through the main entrance, they were just in time to witness Arthur throwing a solid glass ashtray forcefully at the receptionist.

Clearly the Dutch atmosphere triggered something similar inside his brother's brain and judging by his state, the amount of questionable chemicals only fueled his lack of common sense.

Tommy instantly regretted letting his brother off the leash.

Maria clasped her hands in front of her mouth, dropping her bags as Arthur flipped a massive table.

In those frozen seconds between standoff and fighting, Tommy watched Maria shake her head at him, shouting something to stop him. Her lips moved but he could not hear her, senses partly shut off. Because that was how it was to be a fighter, numbing and shutting off everything unnecessary, in order to throw in the first knockout punch.

Arthur never saw it coming and Tommy's knuckles would leave nasty bruises in the morning. The weight of his brother's body tumbled down onto the floor and Tommy could feel the cords inside his shoulder ache. Still not fully healed from the dislocation, Tommy flexed his arm, bending his fingers to ease the pain in his knuckles.

Watching over his shoulder Maria stood frozen on the spot, surrounded by tulip bulbs and crumbs. Their gazes met and Tommy nudges his chin towards the crying receptionist. Maria responded quickly, making up an excuse for Arthur's outrageous behaviour.

Tommy vaguely overheard some terms such as 'mental retardation', 'off his meds' and 'paying for everything', starting with emptying her wallet at the desk.

Grabbing his unconscious brother around the waist he started to drag and pull Arthur towards the elevator. During the war, he'd became accustomed to dragging lifeless bodies towards their nameless graves, but doing it on his own was rather difficult.

Panting and with sweat pouring down his face, Tommy managed to drag Arthur halfway across their floor until Maria caught up.

"It'll cost a fortune, but she's not going to call the police," Maria mentioned, dropping her bags for the second time as Arthur's body suddenly jolted and locked Tommy's neck in a death grip. Unaware that the man holding him up was his own brother, Arthur started to roar as his fingers cut off his attackers airways.

For a moment, Tommy was sure his brother was going to rip his head off and he might have if Maria didn't deliver a firm kick in Arthur's groin. It was enough to momentarily stop Arthur and therefore pause Tommy's strangulation.

"Arthur, it's us!" Maria exclaimed, towering over Arthur's tense bearing. Tommy oversaw another horror ready to unfold and reflexively pushed Maria out of Arthur's range. Hurriedly, he pressed the keys to his hotel room in Maria's jittery hands and didn't need to give a second order.

Maria opened the hotel door as Tommy fought to get his drugged up brother through the hallway.

Not knowing what kind of tripping drugs Arthur had taken, he dodged a few punches to the face, circled around Arthur's body and managed to pin Arthur's right arm to his back.

Yanking his brother's head back by his hair and twisting his arm into a familiar state of torment, Tommy shoved Arthur into his hotel room.

Go to your room, stay there, Tommy signed to Maria who seemed ready to bawl her eyes out.

"He won't try to kill you right?" Maria stuttered.

Tommy shook his head, wondering about the question himself.

Shoving Maria away from his door he could see Arthur already destroying pieces of furniture.

Go to your room, stay there, Tommy ordered again, not giving Maria time to respond as he threw the door shut in her face. He ducked, just in time to dodge a chair.

Flexing his neck and cracking his knuckles he dug his heels into the expensive carpet, ready for round two.

.-.-.

A/N: I think, years later, during a night of drinking at the Garrison, Tommy will repeatedly tell the story of how Arthur was a total cock block. Away the romance goes, as Arthur has established to have more chemicals in his body then brain cells.

I wonder, am I allowed to call the zoo part a date? Yes, I think I can and oh my do I think it's cute. #BiggestfanofmuteTommy. Artis, the zoo is a real place by the way, I've been there a couple of times. It's one of the oldest zoo's in Holland.

I also like to add; this story is well over 5000 views and that just melts my heart, thank you all for reading, for the amazing comments and kudos!

Bedazzle me with your thoughts,

Xoxoxo Nukyster