AUTHOR'S NOTE: So this is my first venture into this fandom. This was originally just a warm up I was doing for one of my other stories. So I'm nervous sharing this as I'm not sure if I captured everyone's voice without being OOC. So please if you feel a character wouldn't do something let me know please! I find Tommy kind of hard to write. So this was a good writing challenge and something different. Also, I don't know if I will make this into a series. If anything I could only see my character of Evelyn in up to Series 4 if anything if I were to make this more canon compliant. But I am not going to make promises or anything. So please any feedback for accuracy regarding the show or even the time period I will gladly take!

SEPTEMBER 1914

Evelyn Shelby watches with a fond smile as her husband, Thomas Shelby, walks back into their bedroom after checking on their son, James.

It was the fifth time Tommy had gone to check on their sleeping two-year-old in the span of a couple of hours. It reminds her of how they both acted when they finally moved their son into a room of his own. However, this time, she can't blame him for wanting to spend any extra moment with their son.

"We could bring him in?" Evelyn suggests to her husband. Sure, it would break the training as they have finally got their son to sleep in his own bed. After all, this would be their last night as a family for a while or for the last time.

Tommy sits on the edge of the bed and shakes his head. His steely blue gaze is on the empty fireplace. Evelyn moves from her place and wraps her arms around him from behind. She places a kiss onto his bare shoulder.

Evelyn isn't sure what to say at this moment. Her husband of nearly 3 years is heading off to war. She knows she can provide physical comfort. She has been for the past few weeks since he and her two brothers-in-law made the decision to go. She treasured any moment to have her husband close in her arms as they stole the breath from each other. It was the only way she knew how to deal with the imminent future.

She doesn't have the words to soothe worries and doubts. She only knows how to use her body.

She suspects Thomas knows this. He can see it. He has to have noticed the way she ducks out of all war talk. She avoids the bloody papers. She can't stand seeing men shipped off and never returning home. She is scared of the empty spaces that will take over the home and streets.

She doesn't want to lose her husband to this. Her son deserves to know his father.

"Are you angry?" Tommy asks.

Surprisingly, anger wasn't an emotion she felt when Thomas had broken the news to her that fateful August afternoon. She thinks maybe she was numb to the news.

"I'm scared, Tommy," she admits in the sanctuary of their bedroom.

"Scared I'm going to die?" He asks bluntly.

"Death would be mercy."

Tommy snorts. "You and Pol in your heads again?"

Evelyn recoils, insulted. She isn't in a gaming mood with her husband. She finds nothing funny about what they are about to go through. She knows Thomas and most of the men are optimistic that the war will be over by Christmas. She doesn't share that piece of optimism. She finds that things like war can't be on a timetable. There is a cost of war that everyone pays the price of. She doesn't want her cost to be a letter of her husband being dead or missing. She doesn't want to have anything but photos to mourn over.

She hears Tommy shifting behind her and his warm, callous hands rub her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Evelyn sniffs but doesn't look at her husband. His arms come around her waist and she is pulled into his lap. She tries to hide her face, but he cups her chin and forces her to face him.

"Tell me the truth."

Evelyn shifts and she straddles his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and blue and grey eyes collide. She runs his fingers through his dark brown hair and pushes his bangs out of his face. "I"m scared you'll come back and your eyes won't be the same. You won't be the same. War changes men."

She knows that her husband is more sensitive in certain ways. He is in tune with his emotions and those of others. He isn't distant as most men are. It's one of the things she loves most about him especially between the two of them. He always seems to understand and know what she was feeling without her having to articulate it.

She is aware of the things her husband does as a member of the Peaky Blinders. She has sewn many razors into his caps as well as helped wash him free of blood. Despite his gentle nature, there is violence in her husband. She thinks maybe some of the violence here will help him in a way with war.

However, with the two of them, when their souls are laid bare she knows beneath the beatings and cuttings, her husband wants out of the streets of Small Heath. He wants to take their little family to the country to raise horses.

They were simple dreams and wants for a man that carried a gun all day and was involved in criminal activities.

She knows that the Thomas she is looking at now will come back a shattered man with sharp edges. She fears the dreams of the country will be nothing but burnt ash.

"So you won't love me anymore?"

Evelyn shakes her head. She cups his face between her hands. "No. I'll love any version of you to me determent as long as those eyes are the same."

His eyes are her most favored features of Thomas. They are the most prominent.

They were the first things she noticed about him when they were kids. His eyes always told her everything she needed to know what was going on in his head.

His grip on her thighs tighten before they trail underneath the thin slip she had on. Thomas pulls her forward so they were flush as he places a kiss on her collarbone as she feels her slip making a journey upward.

"I reckon I'll always love you if I have this to come home to," he says against her skin.

"Thomas!" She screeches as the slip is taken off in record time.

His laughter fills the space in their bedroom as he works off his boxers. This she would miss as well. These unguarded moments in their bedroom. The way his eyes sparkled into the dim lighting of their bedroom. The way his guard comes down and the weight of the world seems to vanish from his shoulders.

She pushes Thomas to lie flat on his back as he eyes her hungrily. "You better remember that when you are tempted by those whores."

"Yeah. What are you going to do about that?" He gives her a wicked grin.

Evelyn reaches in between them as she grabs him in a teasing manner. He hisses as her thumb runs over his slit.

"If you lay with a whore to forget, you will be burned by the memory," she curses him.

"I'll be home," he promises.

"I know."

Evelyn sinks down onto him.

Her mouth opens in a silent moan as her body adjusts to the stretch of him.

She knows.

APRIL 1919

4 years.

It's been four years since she has seen her husband, Arthur, and John. Evelyn knows that she is lucky to have her family all make it out of the war physically intact.

Sure there were plenty of losses. Everyone suffered. There was the lack of food, the clothes that were becoming threads, and the loss of her sister-in-law, Martha.

Evelyn had days she felt guilty that she hated her lot in life, but then she would hear the screams and cries of the widows and fatherless children, she was lucky she still had a husband.

Yet, as the days, weeks, and months passed, she felt her husband was only in name and spirit. Letters were constant. She would include as much as she could so he didn't feel as if he was missing out on anything. She tried to make it seem as if they were back in their bedroom and his head on her chest as she gave him the daily gossip. As much as he was about his lack of interest in "woman's business" he still was eager for the pointless tales late at night. She always made sure to include a portion of little Jamie's drawings as well. She knew in time letters would be torn, missing, ruined, or burned, but she hoped to give him some comfort. She didn't expect Thomas to disclose much about the war. There were times she could see the strain in his letters. Sentences or words would be crossed out or the letter took a whole new tone. Or worse, she could tell that her husband had an earlier draft of a letter but he swapped it out for a new one.

She knew her husband would be different. She had told him war changed men.

Now as she stands on the platform and watches families reunite. She has a bubble of dread and nervousness in her gut. She is scared to see what the war has done to her husband. Her worst fear is that he would be cold to their son. She has prepared Jamie the best she can that his dad may be different. Jamie's memories of Thomas were hazy anyways. She knows at times he is like a mythical figure.

"Evie look!" Finn shouts as he points down the platform.

Evelyn looks in Finn's direction. Evelyn isn't surprised to see Arthur leading the pack. He has a smile on his face and his arms are wide open as Ada, surprisingly, squeals and jumps into his arms. Finn follows within the excitement and Arthur greedily takes the affection. He lifts them both and twirls them around.

Polly has a handle on John's kids and was watching fondly as John kneels and hugs them tightly. She wishes Martha was here to see her husband and her children reunited.

Evelyn has a tight grip on Jamie's hand before she takes a look at Thomas. His head is down and doesn't seem to be sharing the visible excitement his two brothers have. He discards his cigarette as he begins his slow approach. Evelyn doesn't have to even tell Jamie Thomas is his father as the boy removes himself from her grip and runs to him.

Her heart clenches at the sight. She watches as Thomas kneels and Jamie wraps his arms around Thomas' neck. Jamie was only two when he went away. Now he is a 6-year-old, the war stole those years away from them. Thomas rubs their son's back. Words are being exchanged in their native tongue of Shelta. She approaches cautiously. Thomas stands with their son in his arms and extends an arm. She rushes into them and inhales the scent of smoke, sweat, and him.

Evelyn greedily takes in the feel of her husband's arms around her. She never thought she would feel the weight of them again.

"I missed you so much," she whispers into his chest. She doesn't expect him to hear her above the noise and excitement of the train station. Maybe he does as she feels his lips on the crown of her head.

She pulls back and she tries to look him in the eyes, but he manages to avoid her stare.

In fact, as he pulls away to greet Finn, Ada and Polly, and the rest of the family, he doesn't seek her presence again. When they go home and have a meager welcome home meal, he devotes most of his time to the babblings of their son and the 10-year-old Finn.

Even when she tries to attend to his every wants or need, he never manages to look her in the eyes.

It seems he can't look her in the eyes.