Chapter 45) Windows to the soul

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Tommy slept for over twelve hours. Finn had informed him about that miraculous fact, as his little brother sat by his doorway until he woke up. His family still hadn't forgotten about his night tremors ever since he had punched and given Ada a black eye.

But the possible threat of being knocked out cold hadn't stopped little Finn from keeping a firm eye on his older brother. When Finn had been ensured of Tommy's full consciousness, he'd tottered into his room and sat down on the bed.

But not even those pleading eyes that beamed with idolisation were enough to keep Tommy in bed.

Before even acknowledging his younger brother's presence, his eyes flashed towards his pocket watch and he inwardly cursed. It was almost noon and there were too many items on his shit-list to take care of.

First off, they needed to make it clear to the upcoming head of the Chinese district that they were in charge. That their pyromaniac vengeance was very much repeatable if those Chinks were bold enough to ever cross them again.

Second, now that their bakery was destroyed, they needed a new storage place for the gigantic amount of cocaine that was going to be shipped over by the end of the month. The substance was legally bought and imported, but that didn't mean they could simply store it underneath their beds.

Third, he needed to bury the toxicity between him and John. Because although John had been willing to take his orders and steal a load of Chinese fireworks, it didn't mean they were seeing eye to eye. John's love for aunt Pol weighed out the clear resentment he felt toward Tommy.

John's sacrifice to his pregnant lover was bittersweet, because Tommy gut feeling told him that the Chinese prostitute had everything to do with the explosion at their bakery. Oh, and he'd dare to bet the Shepherd that the bitch wasn't even carrying his brother's child. But they'd never know that for sure, because if there was one thing that characterised John, it was loyalty. John Boy had done everything within his power to get his lover far away from him.

Because John had been right, Tommy was a dog with a bone. And right now, he had a bone to pick with Ai. If he found her, and discovered that she'd been the snitch, he'd cut out her tongue.

But first things first.

Tommy ruffled through Finn's hair, gave the boy a faint smile and mechanically started his morning routine.

As a traitor of his lower class he'd wrapped himself in an opulent suit and tie. Along with a clean shave and impeccable haircut, he had a strong set of attitude and manners that reflected control and resilience.

It was almost enough to silence those scornful voices of both his parents in the far back of his mind.

He'd created this, a powerful persona. A statement towards the low lives and upper class. When guns and violence did not strike enough fear, wealth and appearance were used as weapons. The three piece suits, ties and expensive jewelry, it all represented everything Tommy wanted to be; better than the fatherless Tinker who roamed through the streets with bare feet.

And ever since he came back from France, he'd been trying to pick up the broken pieces of that character. At times, he forgot where that coldhearted figment ended and where the real him started.

He could pinpoint three versions of himself; the man before the war, the beast during. And the damaged one after. At times, one body simply wasn't big enough to host those three completely different individuals.

There were moments he could take a few steps back and think, 'that's me, that's the Tommy before the war, I'd like to see more of him'. He'd never been innocent or untainted, but before France, he'd been able to see beauty. Laugh. Love.

After France, there were too many things he wanted to forget. And in order to maintain his sanity he'd found many awful ways for distraction. Hard labour, whores, drugs, alcohol. So alright, maybe not that many ways, but enough to postpone a breakdown. If he'd keep himself inside a loop, any kind of loop, he wouldn't have time to rest and relive France.

So, although the twelve plus hours of sleep had done his body good, the negative side effect was that he could no longer occupy his mind with the continuous loop of insomnia.

Images started to seep through to his vision now that his body wasn't sensing any physical aches. The faceless German boy seemed to watch over his shoulder, the tremors inside his fingertips urged him for a cigarette.

Ada's faint attempt to make black pudding lay in a puddle of greasy water inside their sink and the smell made him retch. It all came too close, too fast. Too much.

He was in pain, constant mental pain. But he didn't allow himself the time to tear open those scars, because he knew he wasn't strong enough to drain the puss out and stitch himself back together.

Without breakfast, Tommy walked straight passed the curtains into their office. Arthur was there and so was John, although he did not bother to look at Tommy.

Now that the matriarch of their family was missing, it showed how much of her they took for granted.

Although their betting shop activities had decreased because they'd sold their boxing ring, the paperwork started to pile up. Forms were missing, papers needed to be signed; nobody knew where to find the goddamn ink.

After a short and stiff meeting between the three eldest, Arthur and John went to the Chinese district to let the Chinks know they were in control and they were going to pay a monthly sum of money to the Blinders for daring to strike at them.

Tommy condemned himself to desk duty for the day. Ada had been eager to fill in as an assistant, but Tommy didn't want his sister to get too involved with their business. She was his only sister after all and besides that, Ada couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it.

He could do with some assistance though, so he told Ada to go fetch him Maria who'd had basic typing skills and was on their payroll.

Maria wasn't too thrilled about being ripped away from her work at the stables, which didn't go unnoticed by Tommy, but right now he failed to have the empathy to care.

He ordered her to find ink and type out a few forms. Maria retreated back to the small desk she'd previously used before their trip to Amsterdam.

In the meantime, Tommy locked himself in his office, smoked half his pack under half an hour while he tried to think of a safe spot for their cocaine. They needed a pharmacy, but without aunt Pol present it was hard planning. She knew more about contracts and details, she was in charge of all the coppers on their payroll. It would be inconvenient for a mute to take over that role, if not foolish.

Although it plagued him, he needed to put point two of his shit list on hold. They still had three whole weeks to come up with a plan and by then aunt Poll would hopefully be back swinging her scepter.

Which left him with a hell of a lot of paperwork and a lot of resentment towards his third point on his shit list; getting back on the right track with John. Which eventually meant swallowing his pride and saying he was sorry. Sorry for wanting to rip out the tongue of the deceitful whore that dared to call herself pregnant by a Shelby.

But Tommy couldn't speak and even if he could, he wouldn't be able to lie to his brother's face.

His sour mood caused him to pour Whiskey like it was water. Being stuck behind a desk between four walls did nothing to brighten up his cantankerous state of mind.

Bored, he watched Maria slave away with papers. As her pile of freshly typed papers grew, Tommy's desk cluttered with administration he didn't give two shits about.

During a short break, he allowed both of them to get some fresh air and they went out for a smoke.

Pulling up her collar, Maria declined a cigarette, stating she'd brought her own. Tommy recognised Ada's favorite brand as Maria lit her own cigarette and exhaled, pointing out once again that all posh girls smoke. She spent the rest of her cigarette break in silence, avoiding eye contact and brushing off the few attempts from Tommy who tried to get a conversation started. After another failed attempt, Tommy shrugged it off as her resentment towards him for forcing her to meet with the Chinese.

He told himself her indifference didn't bother him and gave her another tedious dull task to do while he went back into his office to drink Whiskey as if they were shots.

Around three, the familiar headache reappeared. Tommy greeted it like an old friend, thankful for another thing to occupy his racing mind.

Massaging his temples he wondered how many days he was going to keep this up. Two? Three maybe, before going insane. He needed action in the forms of danger, hard labour, drugs, the constant state of drunkenness. And sex.

A plagued moan escaped his silenced lips as his eyes automatically scanned over Maria's turned back.

He was glad he'd placed a wall between then, and not just in the literal sense. It was easier this way, but it didn't make it more bearable. It did not stop his mind from picking on the so many what if's. What if Arthur hadn't gone berserk at their hotel and left him with a chance to walk her to her hotel room? What if they'd spent one more day in Amsterdam? What if he hadn't used every trick in his book to brush her off and push her away?

His eyes subconsciously were drawn back to her, watching the way she brushed her short bangs behind her ear, time after time. Her bashful demeanor and eager to please attitude was provocative. The cautious way of keeping mostly to herself and making sure she wasn't drawing any unwanted attention towards herself was so obvious. Distancing herself from the men taking care of their betting shop, was a clear statement that she did not belong in their world.

In his.

To minimize the numerous questions and resentment, Tommy drank. Unbothered of the few workers who where having had a front row seat to his latest attempt to successfully damage himself, he drank until he emptied the bottle.

He must have dozed off or had a minor pass out, because when he jerked up from his desk he spotted Maria in the doorway, carrying an impressive amount of files.

"Here are you files Mr. Shelby, arranged and bound," Maria informed him and stiffly dropped the pile of paperwork on his desk; "may I be excused? Everyone else left half an hour ago."

Was there a small hint of disgust hidden in her icy tone?

Maybe it was the alcohol blurring those carefully set up lines, because he was watching her intensely. No, fuck that, he was staring at her and it made her feel uneasy yet it didn't make him stop. Her distant behaviour hadn't gone by unnoticed. And although he could fully understand her grudge towards him, for being forced to walk to what she must have presumed was the gallows, it still pissed him off. It was egocentric and unfair, but he wanted her to drop this foul mood.

When Tommy failed to answer on time, Maria stiffened her lips and twirled on her heels, ready to march out of his office.

Due to his intoxicated state his reflexes reacted on his suppressed impulses. With catlike swiftness, Tommy moved from his chair, passed his desk and caught her wrist.

His action surprised them both, although Tommy was familiar with wearing a poker face from a very early age and maintained a blank stare.

Maria wasn't as skilled and her face showed clear frustration. She drew back against his desk in order to pull her wrist loose and create a fair amount of distance.

"I've done my part, now I'd like to go home please," she said. Her voice was cool but her eyes hinted fresh tears.

He didn't know why but he fought the urge to touch her face, brush over her lips, feel her pulse jitter underneath his fingertips.

Impetuous, he took a step forward, minimizing the space between the both of them and clearly overstepping her boundaries.

"No, don't you dare!" Maria spat, drawing rapidly back, "I won't be the silly little git that's good enough to comfort you overseas, while you go out to a brothel the first chance you get!" Her eyes shot fire, betrayal and resentment, "Ada told me, Arthur booked you a brunette, the one with big tits!" She added when she noticed how her employer's mouth fell slightly ajar.

Tommy's lack of response confirmed Maria's allegations and fueled her bottled up anger.

"Sorry that I'm not the type of woman who spreads her legs for the almighty gangster of Small Heath. I guess I must have been an utter disappointment in Amsterdam. Oh you must find me so foolish and naive, because I thought you actually gave a darn thing about me!"

During her venomous speech a few tears ran down her cheek, but she'd kept her chin up.

"I'd like to go, don't worry about walking me home, I'm sure I can manage that myself by now." She pointed out icily and pushing past him.

She didn't get far. Tommy grabbed her shoulder and steered her backwards until her hips hit the desk.

Maria's jaw fell ajar from his discourteous act, this time she seemed ready to slap him. Her obedient nature stopped her though. In all honesty, Tommy wished she'd marked his face with her palm. It was easier to deal with an angry woman, then being reminded of the painful fact that he owned her, mind, body and soul. Both knew her place and both knew she couldn't do a bloody thing to stop him.

So she froze, her fingers curling around the round edge of his desk and swallowed her pride for her family's sake.

Being the centre of her full attention Tommy cursed his older brother for dragging him to the Shepherd and booking him a prostitute. And then he cursed his sister for being such awful blabbermouth. And then finally, at the end of his list was Tommy himself, because he'd wronged her. But not in the way she thought he did.

Bracing himself to demolish his omnipotent persona and allowing another soul a peek behind his mask of indifference, Tommy swallowed a thick lump and cleared his throat.

Slowly, he let go of her shoulder, granting her some distance.

I didn't fuck her, he confessed, the whore, I did go to the Shepherd with my brothers and Arthur did book her. I did take her to a backroom. But I didn't fuck her, I swear.

"Of course you didn't," Maria huffed sarcastically, "why on earth would you refuse a whore? I bet she'd do a Shelby for free, since all of those Shepherd working-girls see your lot as saints."

Because I want you, Tommy signed and drew a tiny cross on his chest. It physically hurt to express his feelings, because he never was the type of man to wear his heart on his sleeve. And right here right now, he was handing it over to her on a fucking silver platter. It gave her power over him, he allowed her to have power over him. And it made him feel weak and unsteady, fragile.

I haven't been with anyone since Amsterdam, he continued in sign language, I swear, his lips silently mouthed.

"Oh," was all she breathed, unable to meet his piercing blue eyes. His confession had seemed to knock the life out of Maria. As her eyes grew wide, staring became their only form of communication. Tommy never bought the whole 'windows to the soul' thing; he was far too down to earth for that. But reading her eyes, he realised he wasn't the only one feeling utterly exposed. Pain, longing, loneliness and desire; her eyes held all those deep seated emotions, although she tried to blink them away with her tears. She wanted him too, although she wasn't able to admit it; her eyes spoke for her.

Stirred on by his alcohol intoxicated mind and deeply embedded needs, he pinned her against his desk and kissed her. It wasn't bold, or passionate. It was his last resort, a weak desperate way of claiming physical interaction in the easiest form possible. He didn't care, he'd stopped caring the moment he confessed and all he wanted, no needed, was for her to kiss him back.

Which she did. She kissed him back and he was too far gone by now to care about her reasoning. Grabbing her thighs, he lifted her onto the desk and moved between her legs, drawing her skirt up in the process. An electric pulse shot through Maria, who awkwardly pushing one hand back to keep herself seated, swiping her neatly bound and filed paperwork onto the floor.

The cluttering of paper on the floor wasn't even noticed by Tommy, who's mind tried to register every curve and newly conquered boundary.

If he'd let his deviant thoughts run wild, he'd have her face down on his desk, skirt pulled up and his trousers down his knees. But there was a reason he hadn't simply fucked her yet, as there was a reason he'd declined the whore at the Shepherd.

It was for the same reason Tommy drew back, his hands resting on her thighs. Her skirt was pushed up high enough to reveal the bare skin above her stockings.

Gently, he drew the fabric of her skirt back over her knees and bore his eyes into hers.

I want you, he signed, hoping she'd understand the full concept of his abrupt hold back, but I can wait, he promised, feeling his heartbeat pulse through his abdomen. Fuck, he was hard and she must have noticed that too.

For you, I can wait, he told her again, frustrated that the only language he mastered was without using real words. So, to give his signs more meaning his thumb and index finger drew around her chin and lifted it up, kissed her again, by simply planting his lips onto hers. It was a promise.

When he drew back her eyes were huge and lost, pushing herself off his desk she drew back a little. A sharp line appeared between her brows as she noticed how her work had ended up on the floor. Quickly, she sank to her knees to pick it up.

"I should be heading home," she murmured, pushing the files into Tommy's hands.

"Tommy,...I-I, I'm sorry, I have to go home," she whispered soft and hastily pushed passed him. The fast clicking of her heels told him how desperately she needed to get away.

Tommy remained frozen like a statue, staring at the disheveled paperwork wrinkling between his fists. Frustration erupted from his core like a volcano and he tossed the neatly bound files all across the room.

He'd been completely honest and forthcoming about his desire towards her and promised her to be an absolute gentleman.

What the fuck more did she expect from him?

.-.-.

A/N: So, an interesting chapter this has been. First off, I really like to get into the PTSD/trauma parts of MuteTommy and I think it's an eyeopener that he knows he's shattered into three pieces. The man before, the man during, and the man after. I wanted to also address his reasoning for keeping himself on edge, it's his way of fleeing from his demons. In a way, it's self harm, although it's a constructive form, because he's making a fortune for his family. And I think he's aware that he's damaging himself, not just by the alcohol and drug abuse, but also by his continues way of staying awake and keep on going. It's his way of making sure his kin will be safe if he ever happens to die or kill himself.

That said, I love that it kills him to open up to Maria. Tommy can be relentless, but in the show we've also seen how he's able to fully and completely love Grace. I want to give MuteTommy a fair share of that. But since this is a damaged version of the real Tommy, it'll be a tough cookie to crack.

Anyways, enough with the rambling. Again, sorry to inform you that updates will be coming slow. I work full time right now and I have a lot of things to plan, so my weekends are pretty full as well. Just know that I'm not planning to abandon this story!

Xoxoxo Nukyster