He'd heard from Pol that Lizzie was sick. She'd said it in passing, tone just sharp enough to make her displeasure with him known. He'd nodded and changed the subject to work. Lizzie was tough and she'd been sick before. If it was bad, Pol'd have been yelling. She wasn't, so he went on with his day. He didn't forget Lizzie was sick, he'd other things to worry about, though. Then, just before he'd left the office, Ada had called. He'd almost not taken the call. But Ada didn't call the office often and when she did, it was usually important. So he'd taken the call.
"You need to get to Lizzie's." Tommy paused at the strain in his sister's voice. But she was speaking again before he could ask why. "She's sick. Been sick for a while. Had a doctor go 'round to check on her, but no one answered the door." His head told him she was just sleeping it off- she did that, Lizzie. Slept when she wasn't feeling well. But he knew Ada wouldn't call for nothing. "Look, she's pregnant and alone in a big house. Go check on her."
The line went dead before he'd a chance to say anything. He ran a hand over his face as he decided what to do. He'd send someone- Finn or Isaiah, maybe. They liked Lizzie well enough. And if something had happened- if things were bad- wasn't much he'd be able to do anyway. His eyes drifted to the stack of papers on his desk. Papers that Lizzie should have had filed. Papers almost a week old, some of them. Had she really been out of the office for that long?
"Fuck." He reached for the phone and called Isaiah. He'd check on Lizzie and report back. Standing from his chair, Tommy grabbed his coat. It was late, but no later than he usually headed home. Charlie'd be almost asleep by the time he got there. Guilt and relief tangled together in his gut at the thought. Heading out the doors of Shelby Company Ltd. Tommy took in a deep breath. He checked the streets for unfamiliar faces, but the few people moving about were people he knew. People who feared him.
He went to his car and got in. Wasting no time in starting the engine, he pulled out onto the street and headed in the direction of Arrow House. He thought of the house in the opposite direction- thought of the woman he'd bought it for. He didn't remember the last time he'd been out. Had he been since she'd moved in? A prick of something stung the back of his neck. Felt similar to shame. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and ignored it. His eyes scanned the road- his mind mapped out where an enemy might be lying in wait. 'Your paranoia is almost as bad as your pride, Thomas.' As always, he tuned out Polly's voice.
Too soon the gates to Arrow house appeared before him. He hated the house. Hated how his mind and heart could never rest here. But it'd been for Grace. She'd loved it. She'd wanted to raise Charlie in that house. So he stayed. Pulling up to the front door he stopped the car and got out. Heading inside, Tommy thought of Ada's voice earlier. She didn't get worried about little things, his sister. He paused in the process of shrugging out of his coat. He could go. It wouldn't hurt anything- he'd no business to deal with that night. The sound of footsteps broke him from his thoughts. Isaiah would call if things were bad. Lizzie was probably fine.
Tommy went upstairs to Charlie's room. His son wasn't asleep yet, the nanny still helping him into his night clothes. "Hello Charlie," he said, forcing some gentleness into his voice. It was an odd thing to have to do, so unnatural to how he spoke to everyone else. His boy looked up from stepping into his pajamas and smiled. Tommy stepped into the room, motioning for the nanny to leave. Pulling back to blankets, Tommy nodded towards the bed. "In you get, then." Charlie scrambled onto the bed and Tommy tucked the blankets in around his little body. "Shall I tell you story?" Charlie nodded, so Tommy settled onto the bed next to his son. He stayed long after Charlie had fallen asleep. Stayed long enough for the steady breathing and warmth of his son-or maybe it was the exhaustion and stress of his life- to lull him to sleep.
There was no light. Cold air came from above him. There was no light. But not like before- not like the tunnels. He couldn't see but he knew there was no dirt holding him in. There were no walls at all. He stepped forward, but felt nothing beneath him. He felt nothing at all except for the cold, the soft rush of air against his skin.
He blinked, hoping that it would ease the blackness. But it didn't- he hadn't truly thought it would. Still he took another step. There'd been three thoughts chasing each other 'round his head during the war- only three. And the most important one- the one that got him back to England- was 'keep moving'. It circled his head now, too. Trapped in darkness again. No way back, only forward. Didn't know how he knew that, but he did- there was no turning back.
So he moved through the black. He moved and he listened- even though the silence was complete. It was eerie, this kind of quiet. Unnatural. His legs carried him forward, though his feet touched nothing. On and on and on for he didn't know how long. Meters or miles or entire leagues- he didn't know. But he wouldn't stop- to stop was to die. It was carved into his bones, that.
Stillness and Death came together.
And no sooner had the thought come, did he realize he'd stopped moving. In another moment he realized why. A sound reached him. It was faint, so very small he could have missed it. He wasn't sure it was even real. But he didn't move. And he heard it again, still little more than an echo of an echo, but there. Real. He stepped forward and suddenly he could hear it clearly- like he'd moved a hundred yards instead of a single step. It was crying- the sound. It was a woman crying.
He took another step before even thinking about it. And again one step moved him farther than it should have. But it hardly mattered. Because where darkness had surrounded him before, now there was blinding light. Bright as the sun on fresh snow. It hurt. He flinched back, eyes closing against the sudden pain. It left him more disoriented than the darkness for a long moment. But he forced himself to look again. The crying was fainter now and he needed to see.
He wished he hadn't.
A woman- dark haired, long limbed, lovely- lay on the floor before him. The crying stopped. The silence was as unbroken as before, except for the sudden heaviness of his own breathing. She was pale, Lizzie. Too fucking pale. Reminded him of a fresh corpse. She was too still. Her eyes were too dull, no light in them- no life. "Lizzie?" She didn't answer. His hands shook as he knelt down next to her. It made him pause, seeing a tremble in his hands. It'd been a long time since fear had made his hands shake. "C'mon, Lizzie, look at me, eh?"
She was freezing to the touch. No warmth to her at all. Carefully, gently, he pulled her up. His hands framed her face, keeping her head up. If she was breathing he couldn't see it, couldn't feel it. He pressed fingers against her neck, praying (fucking praying, him) for a pulse. But only the stillness met his fingers. His hands fell away from her. His eyes watched as she fell forward against his chest. It was all cold skin and dead weight and pain.
It was the pain that finally plunged him back into darkness.
Tommy startled awake. His breathing was sharp and fast and useless. Spots flashed across his vision as he tried to remember where the fuck he was. His eyes shot around the room- looking for enemies, looking for Charlie, looking for a woman it made no sense to look for. But all was quiet except for him. Charlie slept beside him, calm and unbothered by dark dreams. Tommy couldn't imagine a rest like that.
Slowly, with stilted movements and stumbling mind, Tommy got up and left his son's room. His feet carried him down the stairs. Then his coat was in hand and he was walking out the door. He was driving before he'd thought to go anywhere. But there was this need- this tugging in his chest that said he had to go. He had to see her. Because Isaiah hadn't called, had he? And Ada'd said things were bad, hadn't she? And he kept seeing those dull green eyes, and feeling the cold touch of a woman who was never anything but warm when he held her.
Too soon he was there, marching up the steps to Lizzie's door. He didn't bother to knock. He pulled his key out- the key he'd never used before- and opened the door. He barely noticed the changes to the house as he rushed up the stairs. It'd looked nice when he bought it for her. It still looked nice. Felt different, though. Feels like Lizzie. The tug came harder in his chest with the thought.
He didn't know which room she'd chosen, but his feet carried him to the room furthest from the stairs. His hand was shaking again as he turned the knob. Shaking worse than in his dream. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. His eyes scanned the room for friend or enemy- there was neither. Just Lizzie, laid in the middle of her bed. Sweat dotted her brow and even in the dim light from the bedside light he could see how pale she was. But she blinked her eyes open when he sat on the bed.
There was confusion in her eyes when she looked at him. And wariness. A bit of …something…unfurled at that look in her eyes. He wasn't stupid. He knew she cared for him more than he could ever care for her. But…he'd never seen her put up walls between them. Yet looking now, maybe she'd just always had them in place by the time he actually noticed her. Said a lot that she expected pain from him- said more than he expected to cause her pain. Shitty realization, that.
"Do you want me to leave?"
She swallowed, and he took in her dry lips. Had she had water that day? Of its own volition his hand reached up to smooth her hair back from her face. He didn't miss the way she tensed slightly at his touch. Didn't miss the way she leaned into it a moment later- after she knew he wasn't trying to hurt her. Sometimes the smallest things reminded him she wasn't as unbreakable as he always thought. "Just trying to figure out why you've come."
He looked away then. Pregnant with his kid, laid up sick in bed, and wondering why he'd come. Took more balls than he had to look at her right then. His hand came from her hair to her stomach. Baby was still too small for him to feel. So small but such a big weight on him. Couldn't say he'd trade it for anything, though. "Do I need a reason to come here?" Lizzie turned her head. No words spoken yet she said so much. All of it meaning the same thing. She knew her place- he'd taught her early and well. "I had a nightmare about you. Wanted to see if you're alright."
Her eyes fell closed. "I'm fine." He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. "Don't… Just, don't, alright? I'm fine." She sounded so tired. Just not from being ill. He took her in. Laying there, head turned away from him, eyes closed so not to look at him… Tommy stood up, eyes still on Lizzie. He watched her chest rise and fall in a shuddery breath. Couldn't tell if it was from being sick or from relief at him leaving. He found he didn't quite want to know the answer. Thought it might matter more than he wanted it to.
"I'll send someone by in the morning." She nodded. He ignored the tear that slipped down her cheek. Had a feeling to mention it would be the wrong thing. "You can call. Me. You can call me, if you need something." She bit her bottom lip the way she did when she knew he'd lied to her. He tensed a bit at that. "I'll send someone."
Then he was gone.
But her eyes- wary, disbelieving, hurt- haunted him.
4 Months Later
He couldn't concentrate. He'd been sat at his desk staring at the same fucking paper for almost an hour. Didn't know what it said, didn't know why he'd even picked it up. He kept looking over to the phone. He wasn't expecting a call. He didn't have anyone to call himself. But it felt like it should be ringing. Made the silence seem ominous instead of natural.
Tossing the paper onto his desk he ran a hand over his face, tried to force his mind to work. But the moment his eyes closed he saw her, Lizzie. He leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Opening his eyes again he expected the image to disappear. It didn't. No, she was still there, dancing in his vision like a fever dream. The bad kind, the kind that left a man fighting back tears and screams.
The kind that Tommy drowned out with little brown bottles.
He didn't reach for his drawer this time though. He was caught in the hallucination before him. Lizzie, stood in her nightdress, swayed on her feet. Her hair was damp from sweat, her skin pale, her face drawn. Like she was in pain. He'd seen Lizzie hurt before, Tommy had. But not like this. It left his skin feeling too tight and too hot and wrong. This was wrong.
He looked to the phone again.
Lizzie stumbled forward a step, bringing his eyes back to her. Though… She'd moved with him, hadn't she? He saw, through the thin fabric of her nightdress, the ripple of their baby kicking. He'd felt it under his palm only days earlier. It was still odd to see just how real it was- even in this very unreal moment. Another kick and Lizzie was bent over, clutching her stomach. Blood pooled onto the carpet beneath her feet.
Then she was gone.
Tommy was on his feet and moving to the door in the next moment. His secretary- the new one, the one that replaced Lizzie- looked up in surprise as he left his office. "Mr. Shelby? Is- Do you- Sir?" But he didn't stop, didn't even glance her way. He took the stairs quickly, not caring that others might be watching. He kept seeing her. Too pale, too still, too quiet- like his dream from months ago. He saw her in bed- sweating, wary, and hurting from wounds he'd caused. He saw her as she'd been a moment ago- bleeding, in pain, and with fear (so much fucking fear) in her eyes.
The drive was a blur of fields and smoke and thoughts tumbling over each other. He was used to the noise. He was used to having to fight the voices to get ahold of his own thoughts. But this- this was different. It was all his thoughts, no voices to fight, just himself. And all of them were weighed down and heavy with some emotion he refused to look at.
Finn was running out the door when Tommy pulled into the drive. He was out of the car and grabbing hold of his little brother. "What? What happened?" But before Finn could say anything Pol's voice was yelling from inside the house. He didn't catch what she said, but he knew that tone. He'd heard it when Finn was born- when his mother was dying.
He pushed Finn away and was running.
He took the stairs two at a time and it still took too long to get to Lizzie's room. Pol swung the door open just as he reached to open it himself. "Ada- oh." She placed both hands on his chest and pushed him back. "You're not going in. You don't want to go in there right now, Thomas." But he didn't care. She'd said that before his mother died, too. And he'd be damned if Lizzie was dying and he wasn't in there with her. "Thomas, you can't help her. You'll be in the way."
"The baby?"
Pol winced, but only just. It was still a knife to his ribs. She shook her head slightly and his legs threatened to give. "Don't know yet. She's stuck. Sent Finn for the doctor. Might need a hospital." His mind tried to wrap around what his aunt was saying. Tried to understand what this all meant. "But…" He focused back on his aunt- on the new strain in her voice. "They can't keep like this much longer. You should- You need to prepare yourself."
Suddenly Ada was there handing something to Pol. But he barely noticed it. His eyes had slid past his aunt and to the bed that Lizzie was lying in. it was like before. She was pale and sweaty and looked beyond exhausted. But it was worse this time, somehow. He could see her thrashing, her hands clawing at the sheet. The tendons in her neck were straining and she'd never looked as fierce as she did in that moment. She'd never looked so close to death as in that moment. He took a step forward only for his sister's hand to pull him back. He turned to look at her, feeling a betrayal he hadn't felt before. She just shook her head.
He turned back to Lizzie's room in time to see the door close.
The lock turning sounded too final.
He didn't move for a long time. Not until Ada'd pulled a chair from somewhere and forced him into it. He stared at the locked door. The only thing keeping him from Lizzie and their child. And he waited. He listened to Lizzie's screams and waited. He watched the door open long enough for the doctor to slip in and he waited. He heard Lizzie's voice grow fainter and fainter into nothing (it was terrifying, that nothingness) and he waited. And for each moment he waited a bit of his mind slipped a little further away, a bit of his soul grew quiet and died.
It felt like an eternity passed before the door opened again. Ada stepped out, a little bundle wrapped tight in her arms. She wasn't smiling, though, his sister. Her face showed exhaustion and sadness and fear. Nothing like a person should look like when a baby's been born. "Is- is it…?" He couldn't say it- couldn't ask whether his kid was dead or not. He didn't fucking want to know, did he?
"It's a girl, like Pol said." He just stared at the bundle- the bundle that was apparently his daughter. 'Polly said to name her Ruby.' His Ruby, then. "She's alright, Tommy. Tired. It was- it wasn't an easy time for either of them, Tom." He nodded absently. He'd still not heard Lizzie. She'd been quiet for so long. Ada stepped forwards and placed his daughter in his arms. "She's beautiful, Tommy."
He looked at the little face peeking from the blanket. She was beautiful. Small and dark-haired and his. His girl to look after and protect. He looked back to Lizzie's room. The door was closed again. "No one called me." He hadn't known he was thinking it until the words were out of his mouth. Ada looked away, something like shame crossing her features. Not much his sister had to feel ashamed for. He'd grant this was a good reason for it, though.
"She knew you were busy." He flinched hard enough to startle Ruby. But Ada kept going. "Said to call when the baby was closer to coming. That you'd probably come by after work anyway. But then things got bad and we didn't have time. She was bleeding and the baby was stuck and-" She took a deep breath, he held his with her. "It was really bad, Tommy." He nodded, slow, barely had the energy for that bit of movement.
The door opened and Pol and the doctor walked out. Tommy wanted to stand, but he knew his legs wouldn't hold him. "She bled a lot," the doctor started, eyes going between Pol and Ada. "More than I've seen in a long time, really. But she's been stitched up. Bedrest for a week and she should be fine." He looked at Tommy for the first time. "You're the father, then?" Tommy nodded. God, his head felt fucking heavy. "Right, well go easy on her for the next few weeks. Body can't handle too much jostling." Then he was gone. Tommy didn't bother to call him back.
"So she's alive, then?" His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. His throat felt raw, like he'd been screaming the whole time Lizzie hadn't been able to. Pol nodded, face only slightly less tense than it had been before. Relief crashed into him hard- hard enough that he lost his breath for a moment. His head fell forward, too heavy to hold up any longer. He looked at the little girl in his arms again. She'd not grow up without her mother, then. He'd not have to tell another child that their mother was in heaven. "Good. That's- that's good."
Ada pressed a kiss to his head as he breathed through his relief. Pol rested a hand on his shoulder. It was a comfort he hadn't gotten from her in a long time. He barely registered the awkwardness of the gesture. But underneath that he felt the warmth of Pol's affection. Then the hand was gone, his aunt and sister walking away. He waited until they were both out of sight before he let the first tear fall. It landed on his daughter's cheek. For a moment he could see her entire life, every tear she'd ever cry, every moment of heartache and joy. He brushed the tear away. It wasn't so easy to erase the images he'd seen, though.
And again his eyes went to the closed door standing between him and Lizzie. He stood up, legs shaky for a moment. He held Ruby a bit tighter and reached for the knob. It turned easily and the door opened. And there she was. The sheets had been changed, and so had Lizzie's nightdress. Her face was relaxed as she slept. The sweat had been wiped away. From the corner of his eye he could see the pile of bloody linens on the floor. It was too much blood to come from one person.
He settled onto the bed, Ruby tucked into the crook of his arm. He situated Lizzie so she was tucked under his other arm. So he could feel the rise and fall of her every breath. So he could feel the heat coming off of her. He watched the wall, watched the shadows lengthen as the hours passed. Watched the light dim as night fell. Watched the soft glow of the moon create fae creatures where perfume bottles and hairbrushes used to be.
They both woke at the same time- Lizzie and Ruby. One settled more fully into his hold, the other tensed against him. "Easy, Lizzie. You're alright. Baby's alright. Everything's fine, I've got you." She didn't relax, but it was something close to it. Close enough that there was only a bit of hurt. He turned to look at her- took in the way moonlight cut across her, illuminating her face. "Got a little girl here who'd like to meet her mum."
Lizzie stared at him for a long moment. "I told them not to call you from work." Her voice was rough and barely there and Tommy's throat hurt in sympathy just listening to her. "Didn't mean to pull you away. Know you're busy- especially lately." And she did. He'd told her almost as much as he'd told Pol about his plans to run for MP. Didn't mean it was more important than their kid being born.
"Had a nightmare 'bout you. Wanted to make sure you were alright."
She blinked. It was a confused little thing. Almost had a smile coming to his lips. Except… It wasn't funny how surprised she still was that he might care for her. "I don't- I don't understand what you're doing." And what did that say about him? That the mother of his child didn't know what she was to him. "Just say it. Whatever this is, whatever I'm to be from here on out, just tell me."
He clumsily propped her up so she was sitting. Then he carefully settled Ruby into her mother's arms. He watched the tension fall away from Lizzie as she held her baby. He felt something tight and warm and painful fill him up. He felt something he'd not thought possible- something he wanted to push away with both hands- take him over. Words were on his tongue before he could think of what they were. "I think-" I think I'm fucking in love with you and it fucking scares me half to death. "I think she'll take after you."
Her eyes were locked on Ruby but he still saw the disappointment fill her eyes. "I hope she has your eyes," she whispered. He could see a tear caught on her lashes. It hurt him to see it. When did Lizzie's tears start hurting him like this? "I've always loved your eyes. Even when I hated 'em I loved 'em." She took in a sharp breath, wincing as she did. "But the rest can be me. Lizzie and Ruby- the last of the Stark women."
"She'll be a Shelby." He hated the surprise that took over Lizzie's face. "And…if you want, her mother'll be a Shelby, too." That tear he'd been watching fell, then. He could see her going through all the reasons he'd offer for her- all the wrong reasons. "It's not about that. It's not about legitimacy. It's not about politics. It's about you. It's about doing right by you. Because you deserve that, don't you think?" She didn't nod, didn't say 'yes'. Broke his heart, that. "I wouldn't ask anyone else. I want you to be my wife. It's you. No one else." He saw her remember those words- saw her understand.
"Alright."
It was barely loud enough for him to hear, but he heard it. It made something settle in his soul- something that had been lost and broken and sore to the touch. He heard the words, he saw the wary hope mixing with the love she always tried not to let him see- she was trusting him with it this time. And for a moment- for a single perfect moment- he could see them. Every laugh, every fight, every cruel word and kind touch- it was all there, he could see it. All the things he'd needed and hadn't wanted to admit. All the things he'd wanted but been too stubborn to ask for.
It was almost everything- even with him scared. Scared to hurt Lizzie- scared to put that wary, disappointed look back on her face. Scared to have her slip away from him. Scared that the light would dim from her eyes, the paleness last too long, the cold skin never warm. Scared that the love he'd been holding so tight to (hadn't even known he was doing it) would fade and disappear- that she'd give up on him one day. Terrified that his heart might never recover from the loss of her, when he'd still not recovered from Grace.
Still, he pushed the fear away- it didn't belong.
Gently- so fucking careful- he pulled his girls in. He wrapped his arms around them, him holding Lizzie, Lizzie holding Ruby. Tommy's lips rested on the curve of Lizzie's neck, eyes watching Ruby over her shoulder. And it wasn't quite right- he'd need Charlie for that- but it was fucking close, wasn't it. He lifted a finger to trace down Ruby's soft cheek. His arm tightened around Lizzie. "It's gonna be good, her life. And yours, too, Lizzie. I'll make it good." She took a deep breath- held it- then finally (fucking finally) she relaxed into him. Completely.
I love you Lizzie Stark.
One day he'd give her the words, but for now he'd hold her.