'Never have you let me in. Even though I know the combination to the safe.'

There had been tears , before. But that was done. She laid beside him, quiet now. The silence was a heavy thing, solid and unchanging. It was a wall between them- a wall that he dared not pry open. But in the silence she did not sleep. She was just as trapped in wakefulness as he was. The two of them, with so much trapped inside and yet nothing ever being spoken. Not the way it should- not the way part of him wished for.

For her sake, he wished a great many things.

But he was trying to be good, was he not? He had said, after their girl- His eyes closed as the pain came. No pain had ever ached like this- to cut off his thoughts like this. His hand ran down his face, trying to stop the hurt from eating him alive in that moment. He forced himself to think- to find his thoughts again. He had to be good, now. There was no other choice, now. For their girl- for his Sunshine Girl.

"23. 24. 52. 55. My regrets." He felt his wife shift beside him but did not look. To look would be too much. He didn't know how to give this and look at her, too. "You know them- my regrets. You alone know what the numbers mean. But there are more. More numbers- more than I could put on a hundred safes."

"Tommy."

Her voice was tired. It was always tired now. Under the hurt. Under the anger. Under everything, Lizzie was always tired, now. 'That is my regret.' "This business, it is the last." A scoff came from the other side of the bed. A flare, red hot and angry, lashed through him. But still, he did not look. She had no cause to believe him, anyway. 'That is my regret.' "It is the last, Lizzie, because I will be gone soon. They would not let me pass and now I know why."

Silence. A wall. The heaviness of his words and the weight of what was still unspoken. He took a deep breath. Then another. And only after another still, did he open his eyes and look. Lizzie stared at the ceiling. Her face was blank and smooth- a porcelain mask. But her hands…. Her hands held fast to the bedsheet, knuckles white from the strength of her grip. "Is this your goodbye? So, I won't steal the bullets this time?"

He'd watched Grace fade into the mist. He'd seen Lizzie step into it fearlessly. 'Coward,' she'd called him. And he had been. He'd been a coward that day. And he'd been a coward a great many other days. "The doctor that came, do you remember?" Lizzie nodded. The mask cracked a bit. And perhaps he was a coward, still, because he looked away. "He says I am ill, Lizzie. Called it tuberculoma. TB in the brain." Lizzie gasped and Tommy reached blindly for a cigarette. He opened the tin; he found the light. 'Coward.' He set them down, again.

"So what?" she asked. "He could be wrong." And her voice was rough to hide the fear- but he heard it. He'd always heard it when Lizzie was scared. "We go to someone else. We- we find a better doctor, someone who can fix it." And it was that what decided him on his course. We, she said. And wasn't that just like Lizzie- loyal to the end, her.

But she couldn't do that, now. He couldn't let her do that now. Not after Ruby. Not with what was to come. "I've gone already- gotten a second opinion. There is nothing to do, now, except finish what is in motion. Then you will go, with Charlie. You will go somewhere far from Arrow House. Far from the name Shelby. You will go and you will be free- you and Charlie."

"And you will stay, shall you? Stay and die?" Lizzie asked.

"Yes." Sure. Unwavering. Decided.

She sat up. She turned so she was looking at him properly. She slapped him. "Fuck you, Tommy," she hissed. "You'd leave me like that? Not knowing if you were dead or alive? You'd leave me to wonder if you were hurt or scared?"

"Lizzie…"

Her fist landed hard on his chest. "As if my heart isn't still tangled up in the blackness of yours? As if it wouldn't kill me, too?" He looked away, then. He had no choice in it. Tommy'd never been good at looking Lizzie's pain in the face. But there was no escaping it. Lizzie's hand came to his face, grasping his chin between thumb and forefinger. She made him look her in the eye and see. "You left me alone, before. I won't let you leave me to explain your absence to another of your children."

"Lizzie…"

She pressed his face to the side roughly, as she let him go. "We'll find another doctor. Go to London or Liverpool, or America. I don't fucking care! But I will be with you. Do you understand, Tommy? I won't lose anyone else- not even you."

Then she was moving away. Settling back on her side of the bed. Her back was to him, once more. But it was different. The silence was a wall, but it was no longer solid. He could move through it if he tried. He didn't, but he could've.


"You changed the combination of the safe. Why? Have you got new secrets?"

Tommy's hand paused- just for a moment- as he moved to open the drawer. Yes, there were new secrets. There were new regrets. There was an end coming that he found he did not want. But he would not change course. For her sake, for Charlie's. For his own. Hand reaching inside the drawer, he pulled out his medication. "With this new business at hand, there are some things that I cannot share."

"What things?" Lizzie asked. And maybe, before, it would have been easier to ignore her. Maybe if the wall had held firm and the words had been left unspoken. Maybe if he had told her he loved her for any reason other than it being the truth. But such was not the case. And so, it was difficult to ignore her. Though, by her sigh, she thought it was still easy for him. "What are those tablets?"

"Doctor gave them, eh?"

Silence. Still not solid, but something heavier than it had been in the hotel bed. He moved to stand in front of the mirror and her eyes followed him. Then, she stood, fingers catching his tie as she did. He watched, even as he pretended not to, as she came towards him. Then she was there, draping the silk of his tie around his neck, her warmth at his back. The mask was back on. He didn't like it, but he said nothing- he hadn't the right. Instead, he covered her hands with his- let the feel of his wife soothe the war inside him.

"When you are ready, I want you to tell me everything that's going on," she said, voice soft and easy. A comfort he leaned into. Her nose pressed behind his ear as they swayed a bit. They almost fit, didn't they? Two dark, broken people. Two souls who only wanted a touch of kindness- a bit of love. But he'd buried that bit of himself in France. And she'd lost it slowly when she gave him her heart. But she's still good. She can still see life and light instead of death and smoke. "It's like the clock's stopped ticking, and I'm waiting for the bomb to explode. We're in that quiet minute."

The soldier's minute.

He turned away from the mirror. They were not those people- the two who almost fit. They were Tommy and Lizzie. Two people who had been too broken from the start to make this anything other than the never-ending pain that it was. His wife's hands settled gently, cradling his face like he was fragile. Like she was trying to keep him with her. "That's where we live now." Waiting for the bomb. Waiting for the chaos. Waiting for the smoke and the screams. And she didn't realize- she couldn't see. He didn't know everything- he barely knew anything, anymore. "I don't know everything, Lizzie. But I do know this. There will be no 'we,' after this business is done. There will be you and Charlie, and there will be me."

Lizzie's nails pressed into his skin a bit. A taste of her fear holding them together. "I don't accept that. I'm your wife, you can't make me leave you." And it was a lie. She knew as well as he did. Arthur'd take her away. Isaiah'd do it. Charlie'd put her on a boat and have Curly sail her away somewhere safe. She knew it. "I'd come back," she declared- not a thought of backing down in her head, he knew. "And I'd keep coming back until you stopped sending me away."

He turned back to the mirror. He tied his tie, laid it straight against his chest. Then he spoke. "36. 23. 24. 52. 55." Lizzie tensed, then drew herself up taller. "New secrets, Lizzie." He did not meet her eyes. He did not reach for her hand the way he'd grown used to. She will be free. She will be alive and without burden. "I have slept with the enemy, today. To seal a deal between myself and Diana Mitford." Lizzie turned and walked to the door. "I thought of you."

She stopped. And it was a strange thing, watching her give in to her hate. It was not a strange thing, how the pain in his chest paralyzed him. She turned back around, eyes red-rimmed, but no tears yet. "You thought of me?" He forced himself to nod. "You thought of me? With your cock in her? Or was it after? Or before?" It'd been the whole time. He'd thought of her the whole time and hated himself the whole time. Lizzie's laugh, harsh and pained and full of contempt, broke him of his thoughts. "I will still be there. I will be the last living face you see as you die, Tommy. And it will break my heart." Her green eyes turned cold and hard, then. "But I will remember this moment, and it will ease my pain."

She left him alone with his regrets and the bits of his black heart.


Tommy stared at Lizzie's empty chair.

He'd told her the truth. She'd not been surprised, at least. But that was no consolation. He looked to Mosely and the sneer on the man's face. He looked to the American and the way he didn't bother to hide his amusement at Lizzie's pain. And then there was her- Diana. She did not visit darkness, she lived in it- reveled. And she had humiliated his wife.

"We do so hate to be indiscreet," Mosley rejoined, mocking solicitude dripping from his words, "but we have told you many times, if you are to seek power in these days of shiny magazines and society photographs, sooner or later you will have to find a spouse who is more suitable." Tommy didn't move- barely dared to breathe. Because to move was to give into the voice whispering 'kill' in his head. "A woman with Lizzie's past and personal history really isn't suitable." The concern left Mosley's voice, turning it hard and uncompromising. "She doesn't deserve you, Mr. Shelby."

Tommy nodded slightly. He forced the voice in his head to silence. Then he stood. He moved to the sideboard. Whiskey splashed against the sides of his glass as he poured himself a drink. To keep his hand from shaking, to gather the words to finish this fucking dinner. To tell Lizzie… He knew she was outside the door. He knew, hurt as she was, she wouldn't leave him alone in that room. He knew she'd heard Mosely's words.

"You know, the thing is Mosley, you're right. You're right, she doesn't deserve me." And he prayed she'd not walk away now. He prayed she'd hear the words he couldn't speak. But then… He'd prayed for Ruby and she'd still gone. He stopped praying. "She doesn't deserve what I am. She doesn't deserve what I will become."

"What will you become?" A dead man. A burden she doesn't deserve to bear.

"The truth is, I belong here at this table, with fuckers like you. She doesn't." He'd stepped into this world. He'd picked up the coin and he hadn't let it go since. But not Lizzie. All she'd done was love him. She'd given him loyalty and Ruby and a mother for his son. It was him who'd dragged her into the darkness with him. The darkness he still couldn't let go. "For all I try to hide it, I'm just one of you." He stared at the amber liquid in his glass. He listened to the sound of his wife's heels fading away, finally. Finally.

"Could there be a sadder ending, eh?"


'Did you mean it? What you said?'

He met her eyes so she could see his truth. 'I meant it. I meant all of it.'

She held his eyes so he could see her doubt. Then she nodded. 'Charlie will stay with Ada until it's done.' She stood, all weary grace and broken beauty, and stepped close to him. Her hand caressed his face- a gentle he didn't deserve. But her eyes… They spoke so clearly, and each word a knife. 'No more changing the combination, Tommy. I'm sick of being alone in this marriage.' Her hand slid from his cheek and she walked away.

Still, he didn't look away.


She'd gone to town.

She had taken his gun and hers and the bullets, besides. She always did when she went to town. She'd call to Ada's for Charlie. She'd pick up the day's newspaper. She'd buy a new bottle of whiskey and a fresh pack of cigarettes. And he'd wait. Under the sun, in the fresh air. The vardo at his back and wide open spaces all around.

It was different, now. No business, no politics. There was nothing but the fire and the horses and Lizzie. Always Lizzie. She smiled more. She laughed again. And he laughed with her sometimes. Ruby was there- the ache hadn't eased for them. But they fought through- closer to together than apart. She smoked less and he drank less, and they fucked more. It was different, too, that. Wilder and shyer in equal measure. Nothing in his head but her. The tunnels were silent and there was no blood to clear from his hands.

There were no more secrets between them, now. Lizzie didn't think so, he knew, but... 'In this moment, in this room…' He'd told her about Canada, and Michael, and Finn. She'd been when he'd seen the third doctor and the fourth. There was no cure. There was no fix. There was only time and then the end. He did not send her away and she did not leave. She flipped the coin each day and he accepted her lie each time it was tails. She had the combination to the safe and now she knew what was inside.

'There is only you, Lizzie. I love only you.'

The sound of hooves came to him. Lizzie came into view, the sun caressing her features, making her glow. Tommy stood and walked to his wife, grabbing the reins when he was close enough. The horse pranced a bit where he stood before settling. "Did you take of her, eh? Gave her an easy ride?" he asked, running a hand down the horse's neck. His eyes lifted and met Lizzie's. She was smiling a bit, soft and easy. He was still getting used to it. "Talk to Charlie?"

"I did," she nodded, swinging a leg over the horse's back. "Asked about you. Wants to know when we're coming back." It was the same question every time. The guilt came stronger every time. Tommy reached up and settled his hands at Lizzie's waist to help her down. Then he kept her in his arms, even after she'd got her feet steady on the ground. Her kiss was light as it landed on his lips, but he heard what wasn't said. She rested her forehead against his and sighed. "I know, Tom. I hate it, too."

Pulling back, Tommy brushed his thumb against his wife's cheek, letting himself have the moment. "Better this way," he said, reminding himself as much as her. The horse shifted a bit, bumping against Lizzie. He steadied her, easily and with a smile, as she laughed. He quickly grabbed the pack that Lizzie had brought back, watching as she patted the horse. "Got supper ready," he told her, pulling her attention back to him. With a nod, Lizzie reached out for him. Tommy reached back, lacing their fingers together.

It wasn't until after the food was gone and the fire starting to go, that he looked at the paper. It was nothing he cared for- not anymore. But there was something about not knowing that Tommy would never be alright with. So, he read. Sometimes he talked to Lizzie about it- he liked hearing her thoughts. He liked that his were starting to line with hers more often than not. Not good but getting closer. But tonight, it was different. Tonight, he read, and the war rose up in him again.

"Lizzie?" The vardo shifted under the weight of her movement. Her head peeked through the door, and he held his hand out for her. He saw the way she hesitated. He knew she'd seen him in that way she had- knowing without knowing. But still, she came to his side. He handed her the paper. "Who do you see?"

He watched as her eyes skimmed the picture. He saw the way her eyes went cold and angry as she saw Diana. He caught the flash of hatred at she took in Mosely in his suit. Then she gasped and her face paled. "What is this, Tommy? What the fuck is this?" Her eyes were on the doctor, Holford. And beside him, the other- the fourth. Dr. Phelps, a colleague of Dr. Holford, highly recommended. Lizzie's hands were shaking as he took the paper from her, pulled her to him. His mind was running, planning. His hands itched for his gun, for a blade he'd not held in years. But first, Lizzie needed him. "Tommy."

He held her tighter, tried to soothe her, "I know, Lizzie. I know."

But she pushed against him. "No, Tommy, listen. What was it she said?" Lizzie looked up at him, eyes wild. "What did Ruby say? About the grey man?" She snatched the paper away from him again, pointing to Dr. Holford. "She called him the grey man. But her drawings, Tommy, in her drawings he had green eyes." She pointed again at the paper. "Holford has green eyes." Her hand flew up to her mouth as the truth of it settled in. "She said- Tommy, she said-"

But she was crying then, and the words wouldn't come. But he didn't need her to speak. He remembered. 'He's coming for me and he's coming for Daddy as well,' she'd said. "She tried to tell me, but I didn't realize." He looked out across the hillside. He looked and for a moment he thought he saw the red of her dress and a flash of brown hair. "I understand, now Ruby. I understand."

Lizzie, eyes red and skin too pale, collapsed against him. She pressed her face into his chest, and he held her. He let her tears fall and let his fall with them. "How is she gone? How can so much good just…go. How can so much good be gone when so much bad…" Tommy pressed a kiss to Lizzie's hair, let his eyes close though the pain still came. "How's she still trying to save us, when we didn't save her?"

No. They didn't save her. He'd been cursed and she'd paid the price. But no more. "We'll make it right. You hear me, Lizzie? We'll make it right for our girl." Lizzie nodded, breath catching as she settled a bit. Tommy watched as she turned in his arms, so they were face to face. His thumb wiped away the tears on her cheek and she left a kiss on his palm. Then they took a breath and the moment passed from them. "We've got to go, Liz. Find a doctor. Get Charlie."

Lizzie sat up and he let his arms fall from around her. " One last move?" Tommy nodded, already standing, and pulling Lizzie up with him.

"One last move, Lizzie."


Armistice Day.

The doctor lived.

The vardo burned.

And a gypsy man called Tommy Shelby died.

But when the night came…

When night came another man sat around a warm fire. His son, good and innocent, told stories of days spent apart. His wife, dark haired and green eyes, was wrapped up warm and easy in his arms. His daughter, his Sunshine Girl, he could see her smile when he closed his eyes. And it didn't hurt, that smile. So, he opened his eyes, this man. He looked around this new house- no ghosts, and only good memories to be made. He listened to this new silence- light and free of secrets. Armistice Day. The end of the war.

Peace, at last.

Tommy Shelby smiled.