This isn't proofread in the slightest! My sincerest apologies for any errors!
When Daisy hears the door go three days after seeing Tommy last, she knows it's him. And she knows what his decision is. She's known it from the second he told her - any other answer, any other decision would mean that Tommy isn't who she knows and loves. She loves that deep down he is honourable and good. She would find it hard to love him if he abandons his unborn child and the mother of his child.
She takes a deep breath before opening the door, straightens her dress and swings it open to reveal… Alfie.
She frowns, confused. "Alfie? Are… Is everything okay?"
He never comes round to her suite, never comes over and risks someone seeing his connection with her. Her stomach tightens as she thinks of possibilities - Tommy has been in a fight, one where he was too distracted by everything to get his full bearings and he's dead…
"Is everything okay?" She demands again, this time more frantic.
He nods, his eyebrows raising as he places his hands behind his back and rocks back on his heels. "It's fine. Can I come in?"
Releasing a relieved sigh, she attempts to put on a happy smile. Not that she's not happy to see him, of course she always is, he's such a dear friend to her, but she is finding it hard to be happy this week. It feels like for every advancement she makes in life, life always finds a way of knocking her back twenty paces. She's starting to become fed up of it. "Of course, come in."
She makes him a pot of tea, watching bemused as he walks around her living room looking at all of the fancy furniture.
"You really did make it, didn't you, Flower?"
Six months ago, she might've smiled and nodded her head and thanked him again for taking her under his wing. But now… now she smiles sadly and doesn't say anything. She thinks about Tommy and Grace and the family they're going to raise together. They might get married, Tommy looking dapper in a suit and the other Shelby's dressed up in their finest, Ada in some pretty pink dress, perhaps, and Polly in some fancy hat.
It doesn't feel like I've made it, Alfie.
"Darby Sabini has been asking around about you."
She nods as she sits down and pours their tea out. "Good."
"He came to me to ask about you."
She nearly drops the tea. Nobody is supposed to know about their business relationship, except Tommy - he is the exception. It doesn't do to conducive business as a whore to be linked in a business level to a mob boss. "What? How?"
Alfie shrugs, like he doesn't really mind or care. "No idea, Flower. But he did."
Her mind moving a mile a minute, she asks, "What does this mean?"
Alfie leans forward, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. It reminds her that this is a man who, unlike every other man she's known, has not hurt her. He's only ever looked out for her and she wishes sometimes that she could've fallen in love with him instead of Tommy Shelby. Alfie would look after her, he would make sure she laughed every day and make sure she was safe. Where Tommy brings her pain, Alfie has always brought solace. But Alfie doesn't make her heart beat faster and her knees go weak and her breath to come shorter. He can make her laugh, yes, but she craves the days of Tommy making her laugh so hard her belly hurt, she craves a passion that would still the earth and ensure that any sadness she has ever felt vanishes in the other person's presence. Tommy gives that to her. He gives her love and peace and happiness, but above all he gives her passion. He's always made her want to better herself, and she hopes she used to do the same.
"He's interested in you. Enough to ask the right questions of the right people." He lets his hand drop, and he sighs, leaning back in his chair. "One of my men let it slip, apparently. I've dealt with it and Sabini's promised to stay quiet if…"
She raises her eyebrows. "If?"
Alfie strokes a hand around his mouth and looks away. "If I 'elp him get rid of the Peaky Blinders."
Yet another thing I now need to concern myself with.
"Alfie, you can't! Tommy came to you—he… he came to you first! He's my… I—"
He raises his hand to stop her jibberish. "I haven't said anything yet, I've told him I'll think about it."
Daisy stands up, her brain starting to hurt from all the things circling it. "There's nothing to think about, Alfie! My neck is on the line here with Sabini, if he finds out I'm only talking to him because Tommy asked me to… If he finds out you're in league with Tommy… Are—Are you still with Tommy?" She swallows shakily as the idea dawns on her. "You're going to tell him no, aren't you?"
"It isn't as simple as that, sweet pea."
She leans closer to him in worry, anger and confusion. "It bloody well is! I'm risking everything by playing Sabini and if you think you can outsmart Tommy or Sabini, you're wrong. Just tell him no, we'll deal with the consequences! It's not the end of the world if people find out that we're working together."
He doesn't back away from her angry expression or move to stand up, even as she leans over him snapping her words off. "Nobody would hire you, Daisy."
"Well maybe that's for the best," she speaks the words quietly now, the realisation dawning on her. She hopes that nobody will hire her again. She has enough money to live on for a while until she finds a new job, one that doesn't make her skin crawl. She got into this industry to make some money, to feel some company to ease Tommy's death… Tommy isn't dead anymore. She doesn't need the money anymore. She's doing this, she realises, solely because it is familiar. Because it was whoring that had saved her, even if it is a degrading and disgusting occupation. It stopped her from starving and it numbed her to the world that seemed to bleak and bare without Tommy.
She doesn't want to stay in London anymore, either. Tommy has chosen Grace, whether he knows it or not yet, and they'll move back to Birmingham to raise their family. She imagines that he'll visit London often, though, and she'd rather be anywhere but here when he did. She's glad he'll be happy, she's beyond glad that he's alive and well… but she's not sure she can see him in love with another woman, married to another woman, making a family with another woman.
He asks gruffly, "Is this because of Shelby? Is he making you quit?"
It's a logical assumption and she can't bring herself to lie. "In a way it's to do with him. But it's also to do with me. I can't… I can't do this for much longer… I can't keep sleeping with these men who look straight through me. I can't keep walking down the street to the whispers of their wives, of their neighbours. Of my neighbours." Her temper and worry have deflated now, leaving her sitting on her chair again with her her elbows on her knees. "I don't think I want to do this anymore. I don't think I can do this anymore."
Alfie is silent, his eyebrows drawn together as he listens to his old friend express sentiments he'd not known bothered her. She always seems so strong and unrelenting, and when he'd first met her, she never seemed the sort to care what others thought. Why should she care what her clients' wives say about her - it was never going to be positive, was it? She knew that, she knew going into this business that it would be hard work and that it is not an admired profession.
"So what do you want to do?" He asks this slowly, not sure where he stands on the situation. She brings in a huge portion of his revenue and often, he relies on her skills to gain him connections he needs, information he needs. She is his friend, yes, but Alfie is first and foremost a business man. As always, he is thinking six steps ahead of everyone else and he knows, without a doubt, that although he and his business ventures will be fine without Daisy's 'job', he'll take a hit. He'll have to adjust and reassess many of his expectations… and Alfie does not want to do something to tedious. He will support his friend in any capacity, but from a business angle, Daisy has just created obstacles for him he didn't think he'd be hurdling over for years to come.
He watches cautiously as she shrugs helpless, as confused and lost in her own thoughts as she was when they first met. Her eyes even have the same glaze of despair as she used to have… he hates that a man as ruthless as Tommy Shelby can make a woman as selfless and as loving as Daisy miserable. He should be thankful, Alfie thinks, that a woman such as her is even giving him the time of day. He can respect Tommy as a rival and a business associate, but he respects Daisy far more. She has come from nothing, nothing, to being the most sought after woman in London. To being rich beyond belief. To becoming a smart, business-savvy woman, independent in her own right. The fact that Tommy seems to be toying with her makes him want to deal with that Northern bastard in the best way he knows how…
It is this thought that determines how he will handle Daisy's situation. He places a gentle hand on her shoulder, his hand so large in comparison to her dainty frame - she needs to eat more, he thinks - and he musters up a soft smile. "Take some time. Don't rush into anything. Come round and see me whenever you want, Dais. I'll hold Sabini off for the time being, don't you worry about it."
And when he sees her grateful, yet still saddened, smile, he knows he did the right thing. She already has one man in her life messing her around… she doesn't need another. Fuck Tommy Shelby.
It's been six days since she saw Tommy and, as she sits alone in her bedroom, she realises that she has become the woman waiting for her man to give her the time of day. She is one of those women - she is a wife, but without the perks such a title may bring. She is waiting for Tommy, again, and she hates it. She's so tired of depending on men. First she depended on Joe and his ever-changing moods for her food, for a roof over her head… then it was Ada's brothers for protection, guidance and company, and then it was Tommy for her happiness. Once more, she is basing her future happiness on Tommy Shelby even when she knows he won't choose her. She hates this, she hates her life, she hates the men she associates with…
What am I doing?
It is two days after this realisation that Tommy finally makes an appearance. It takes him eight days to decide his future, to muster the courage to tell Daisy his decision.
She knows it's him the second she hears the most tentative knock she's ever had the misfortune of hearing. Her stomach plummets, and her throat catches. She doesn't know why she feels nervous… she knows his answer. He wouldn't be the man she loves if he abandoned the woman carrying his child.
But still, her stomach flutters and she feels more and more nauseous with every step she takes towards her door, her bare feet making so sound against the flooring.
She opens the door and...
His face nearly makes her start to cry again, but she manages to smile at him instead and croak, "it's okay, Tommy."
His face to anyone else would be blank, but she sees everything - she sees the way his jaw was locked tight, his eyes desolate and overwhelmingly apologetic even if his mouth is straight and his hands are clasped loosely in front of him. To anyone else he may seem indifferent, relaxed. But she knows… She knows he has come to tell her that their relationship, in any capacity, has just come to an end. Neither of them are naive enough to think that they could possibly ever be friends. They've never had that relationship, even when Daisy was too young to think of Tommy as anything but the elder brother of her best friend. Even when she started to look at him in a more grown-up manner and Tommy still viewed her as a young girl, they never managed to become firm friends… they were always destined for so much more.
"Daisy…"
She shakes her head and tries to relax her body. If he knew how much it hurt for him to choose someone else, however reluctantly or however long it took him to decide, he would feel guilt he has no business feeling, in her mind. He has a duty to Grace… he owes Daisy nothing. She doesn't want him dwelling on this… if he is happy, she is happy for him. She repeats this mantra as though it will make this goodbye easier.
"Of course you have to stay with Grace." She nods as she says this, trying to get him to relax. His posture seems loose but she sees the tension in his shoulders, the lock of his jaw, the air of helplessness around him. He doesn't take pleasure in saying goodbye. They have both forgiven each other for whatever lay in the past - it was forgotten the moment they kissed. If Grace wasn't in the picture…
She stops that train of thought straight away. It doesn't do to dwell on what may have been. It is not.
She must do as she always does - she must move forward.
He still hasn't spoken, just stands looking at her with this face that looks entirely devoid of emotion.
She clears her throat of the lump that feels like it'd been caught for over a week and averts her eyes. God, it hurts to even look at him. "Congratulations. I wish the two of you…three of you all the best."
Her voice breaks twice as she speaks but she still manages to say the words smiling. She is perfect at acting… perhaps she'll take up that trade instead; perhaps she'll take to the stage. God knows she needs a new profession, a new start to her miserable life. One year of happiness…surely, surely, she deserves more than that.
When he still doesn't say anything or make any move to come in, she smiles once more, barely looking him in the eyes and says, with as much bravery and sincerity as she can muster, "Goodbye Tommy," and starts closing the door. There is no need, she thinks, to make this harder on either of them. She said she would fight for Tommy, but she cannot fight this. She won't do it to herself or to Tommy.
His hand slamming against the closing door stops her, and suddenly his whole face comes alive with emotion. He almost falls towards her, and stops inches away from her face and quietly says, heartbreakingly, "I fuckin' hate this."
If the situation weren't so serious and so soul-destroying, she might laugh at the way he sounds like a petulant child. But it is serious and it is soul-destroying to her, and his words bring tears to her eyes. "I know."
She feels his hands, feather-light, come up to gently drag across her stomach and she hears him muttering, "her. Her," under his breath. She's not sure what he means but she doesn't want to dwell on it - she thinks it will break her even more.
Her breath shudders out and she looks to the ceiling to keep from throwing herself at him. He needs to stop touching her; he's making it more difficult than it already is.
"Do you remember that night, Dais?" His hands are still stroking her stomach, curving slightly around her waist every so often.
He is being cruel.
"What night?" She shouldn't have responded, she should be making him leave. Back to Grace. But she's always been weak around him, always responsive. Pushing him away is like rejecting oxygen.
"That night in August. Before I left. It was so warm…" He pauses, looks her up and down with the intense stare she is so used to. "You looked so fuckin' pretty, Daisy."
He is talking about the night he told her he loved her, she realises with a painful stab to the heart. Her birthday. The happiest day of her life.
"Stop, Tommy." Does he not realise he's being cruel? Insensitive?
"I used to hate it when you cried but that was the one night I didn't mind. You were so happy…"
She swallows, and when he steps impossibly closer to her, she tells herself to step back, to make him leave. But she can't. She is rooted to the spot where she is standing, being forced on a painful trip down memory lane that she can't stop listening to.
"I was always happy with you."
A sound leaves him, almost like a groan. "And now I keep breaking your heart."
She doesn't say anything because it's true - he does.
"But you broke mine too." She is about to step back to reprimand him for bringing up the past but he continues talking before she gets the chance. "I had plans for us, Dais. In France, it was you that kept me alive. I'd think about the kids we'd 'ave, the family we'd build. It was meant to be you."
"Tommy, stop it. Please just…stop." She is crying now, trying hard to keep sounds from emitting; she is shaking all over, trying to be strong enough to let him do what needs to be done.
"I can't."
And with that, he kisses her. It's not like before where it was filled with anger, jealousy and past resentment… this was filled with love. With heartbreak. With goodbye.
Daisy knows she should push him away. She knows it will make what needs to be done harder, almost impossible. But she realises that she can't stop either. If this is all they will have, if this is the last time she will see him…
She throws caution entirely to the wind.
Wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders, bringing him as close to her as possible, she whimpers, almost sobs. Being with him feels so natural to her, like nature meant for them to be together this way. His arms have coiled around her waist and he is lifting her slightly so they are on the same level - it means that she can reach more of his face, stroke his features, his hair…love him with her hands, since she can no longer do it with her heart.
She's not sure who leads who to the bed, not sure who starts undressing who first. She only knows that soon they are both naked on her silk sheets, not saying a word to each other. Neither of them knows what to say - how does one comfort the love of their lives as they leave them? The only conversation exchanged is through their hands; she strokes his skin with loving caresses, re-familiarising herself with the body she used to know like the back of her hand. She remembers each hard muscle that the years have only defined further, each freckle, each scar. He has gained considerably more since they last made love, and she takes her time in kissing each and every one. He takes his time learning her, also. He kisses every curve, every peak and valley of her body. It is not rushed in any capacity - it is simultaneously a reacquaintance and a goodbye, and this fact is not lost on either of them.
When he pushes into her, it feels like home to her. It is achingly familiar even after all these years and she remembers the first time they did this. He was so kind to her, so considerate, so attentive. The years have only made them move better, both more experienced, both more mature. They know what the other likes, what makes the other's breath hitch, what makes them groan in ecstasy. When she climaxes, he barely slows down. He simply kisses her harder, bruising her lips, and continues, pausing only to look down at her with such intensity it made her heart squeeze.
Before he reaches his own climax, sweat making them stick to the sheets and to each other, he whispers her name over and over in her ear. When he orgasms, she swears she hears the word love roll off his tongue, but she's glad she didn't hear anything of the sort for certain. She would never be able to let him go then.
As they lay there in the aftermath, him still inside her, the reality starts to sink in once more. This will never happen again… They will never get the chance to figure out who they were, these adults that had once been young and hopelessly in love. They will never get the chance to ask about the other's day, never be able to lay like this again, quiet and sated.
When she fidgets slightly as a way of bringing closer the excruciating end to their goodbye, he grips her tighter, his face buried in the hair by her neck. "Not yet." He kisses her neck, closed mouth and hard, and he squeezes her waist tighter. "Not yet."
Tears start forming in her eyes again, but this time she simply lets them fall as she strokes up and down his back. She thinks she will regret what they have done later, will regret making this impossibly harder that it was already… but she doesn't regret it yet.
When he finally rolls off of her, he immediately starts getting dressed slowly. She watches him and he watches her; he watches the tears roll off her chin, watches the way her hair falls over her shoulder, making the sterile-white bedding look brighter.
Before he walks out of the door, he turns back to look at her as though he'll speak… but eventually, he simply places his cap back on his head, shakes his head once, his eyes slightly red, and walks out.
Daisy Smith leaves Fleur behind the very next day. She is no longer Daisy Smith, the naive little girl from Small Heath. Nor is she Fleur, the finest whore in London.
She is simply Daisy, the woman strong enough to survive anything life has thrown at her. The woman strong enough to lose her soulmate twice. Strong enough to survive having no one, having nothing.
She is broken, yes…but she is also new. And despite everything, it is this thought and this thought alone that comforts her.
This is the most depressing this story gets. We've made it over the hump... I promise, it's can only get better from here!
There will be a time jump in the next chapter, and I should let you know that we're somewhat drawing to a close... I would say maybe four or five chapters left?
As always, thank you for reading and thank you for your comments! I'm so glad you all liked Tommy's POV - hopefully that last tidbit in the previous gives you hope for where this story is heading... because this chapter was depressing to write, never mind read!
I promise it gets better next chapter. Promise.
Thanks again, you lovely lovely lot x