Author's Note: Thank you so much for the response to the last chapter. It means a lot to know you enjoyed it. Here's the next instalment.

Chapter Twelve
Pistol of Fire

It took a moment for Martha to realise the chaos that surrounded her as the gunshot echoed throughout the room and vibrated the air around her. She turned slowly, completely caught off guard by the loud bang that sounded behind her. Her focus was on leaving, despite how much her body shook with anxiety at the thought of standing up for herself in regards to Michael. It had been the last straw for her and with the support of Tommy being by her side, she was able to tell Michael that she did not love him the way he wanted her to.

As time slowed around her, she took in the scene unfolding before her. Tommy was still for a moment and looking at her with a blank expression on his face. For a moment, Martha believed that she had heard the gunshot in her own mind as everything behind her seemed to be normal. Except when Tommy looked away from her and down at his chest, she did the same, wondering what he was doing. His hand moved towards his chest and it was only then that Martha understood that the gunshot she had heard was real. Tommy brought his hand away from his chest as blood stained his fingertips.

Realisation hit Martha hard and on instinct, she closed the gap between her and Tommy and reached him just as he staggered forward. She was aware of movement around her, and she saw the fabric of Grace's dress bounce as the woman chased after Michael who had escaped the room. Tommy was knelt in front of her, his head and upper body heaved forward as the pain reverberated throughout his entire body.

"It went through," Tommy croaked, a hint of worry in his voice. "That's good."

Martha wanted to question him at that moment, wondering what was so good about being shot, but she bit her tongue. She whispered, "What do I do?"

"I need you… to put pressure on it…" Tommy panted. "We need to get… out… of here…"

Martha nodded just as Tommy's weight grew heavier and he slid forward to the floor. She caught him and acted as a barrier to the hard crash he was expected to make. He winced as searing pain pierced through him, breaking through his pain barrier. He had been shot before but this was different. It was just too close to laugh it off with a bottle of whiskey to mask the pain like he had done before.

Tommy gathered all the strength he could and attempted to stand. Martha helped him as much as she could, aware that he was a lot stronger than she was, and she acted as his weight support. Using the wall as an extra support, Tommy was aware of his shallow breathing but said nothing. He did not want to worry Martha any further.

Grace returned then, and made her way to his side quickly. She hooked one of Tommy's arms around her shoulder and Martha followed suit and working together, they carried Tommy towards the car. They both noticed that his weight grew heavier which for Grace was not a good sign. As they placed him gently in the back seat of his car, Grace ordered for Martha to keep an eye on his breathing, as well as putting pressure on both wounds, and to keep him as conscious as she could. She nodded, in shock, and was aware of Grace taking the driver's seat and starting the engine.

Tommy's eyes were closed, and his thick and long eyelashes brushed the apples of his cheeks. She used to study him when he slept all those years ago, and found that when he slept, he looked so peaceful in both mind and body. She would trace her fingers against his cheeks, and down along his jaw where she would reach for his lips, parted slightly as he dreamed, as she would graze her thumb against his dry lips, feeling the warm breath escaping his mouth that would tickle the palm of her hand. There was no strain to his expression like there was now.

He hissed in pain, and fluttered his eyes open. Martha's eyes met his and she looked at him sadly. He noticed the tears filling her eyes and he raised his blood stained hands towards her face where he gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

"Ssh, it's going to be okay," Tommy whispered, although he, himself, was unsure of that promise.

"He shot you, Tommy," Martha whispered.

Tommy nodded but he was silent. The pain was remarkable, and as it came in waves, he understood he was not prepared for the next wave to crash into him. He offered Martha a small smile as she offered more pressure to his chest.

"I don't want to lose you," Martha whispered sadly.

"You're not gonna lose me," Tommy whispered, cursing himself for promising her another thing that could not be certain.

As Grace closed the gap between themselves and their destination, she was aware of the conversation happening behind her. It pained her to think of Tommy loving another woman. He had a past with her, they had planned a future together, and there was no room for her in Tommy's heart any longer, if there had even been a place for her in there to begin with. She saw the way Tommy looked at Martha. It was the same look she wished he would look at her with.

"Tommy?" Martha's voice snapped her back into reality. "Tommy… please, wake up…"

Grace heard the anxiety in her voice, and put her foot down, hoping that the car would carry them quicker to their destination. They were close to where they were going, but they were not close enough in Grace's opinion.

"Tommy!" Martha urged for Tommy to wake up, but the heaviness in his body as he laid on top of her lap was significant. He was unresponsive, no matter what she did to try and rouse him.

They came to the street they needed, and Grace pulled up outside the house abruptly. Martha held Tommy tightly waiting for the impact of the abrupt stop. This seemed to stir up unwanted attention and the doors to the houses that lined the street opened. When Arthur opened the door to the house to see what the noise was, the two women were glad to see him. Grace hopped out of the car, her voice shaking as she relayed the information to Arthur, just as the rest of the boys exited the house. They moved towards the back seat and helped Martha with Tommy, carrying him into the house as gently and as quickly as they could.

The urgency in the air was intense as Martha watched as the men cleared the dining table with a swipe of the arm, and laid Tommy on top of the wooden surface. Aunt Pol appeared at that moment, and with a paled expression and sad eyes, whispered: "Family only." She closed the door leaving Martha and Grace to stand outside in the relative calmness of the street as everyone returned to their homes.

"Come," Grace whispered. She led the way towards the pub, knowing that she was not the only one who needed a strong drink. She was aware of her own footsteps being the only ones echoing throughout the street, and she turned. Martha remained where she was – as if her feet were glued to the street outside. She wanted to enter the house, be there with him, make sure he was still alive, but it was clear as day that she was not welcome. The guilt of the whole situation weighed heavily upon her shoulders. The guilt of Tommy getting hurt clouded her mind.

Martha felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to look at Grace.

"Come on," Grace said, leading Martha to the pub. She felt her feet begin to carry her to the establishment with the help of Grace's hand guiding her.

The pub quietened as they entered the pub, all eyes lying upon them as the door closed behind them. The men drinking placed their beers down on the table as their eyes scanned the bodies of the women, their eyebrows furrowing at the sight of them. Martha, self-consciously, glanced down at herself and noticed for the first time the blood that stained her dress. Grace turned to Martha and watched as she took the state of herself.

"Go in that room," Grace whispered, pointing to the small side room next to the bar. Martha nodded and closed the door behind her.

Grace walked over to the bar, placed two large glasses on the surface and poured expensive whiskey into the glasses aware of the pub being quiet. She carried them into the room, closing the door behind her, as the chatter resumed as soon as the door closed behind her.

Martha was stood staring into the mirror fixed onto the wall. Her hand reached her swollen nose and took in the dried blood that had ran down her face. Her eyes were bruised. She looked a mess.

"Here," Grace said. "Get this down you."

Martha took the glass willingly, and took a sip. She winced at the bitterness of the liquid but continued to drink, feeling as the shakiness of her body began to calm a little with each sip. They sat in silence, their eyes focused on the table in front of them. Though their bodies were physically away from him, their thoughts were with him.

As they sat there in the pub, they did not know that his heart had stopped twice. They did not know that his family were working tirelessly to stop the bleeding, and when they thought it was the end of the line for him, he had surprised them with a gasp for air.

As the night deepened, the two women remained in the room. They were aware of the sun teasing the world outside the pub with little streaks of light coming from behind the clouds then hiding away. As the hours stretched by, they remained there unmoving. They had hoped that news would reach them that Tommy was okay but when no news arrived, they feared the worst.

Life without Tommy before was incredibly hard for Martha, and she wondered what she would do without him now if he was taken from her. The thought of her losing him was unbearable. He had just returned to her life, and him being taken from her so soon would be a cruel joke.

"He's strong," Grace whispered. "He'll pull through this."

Martha observed Grace for a moment. She nodded, taking another sip and wincing. She placed the glass on the table and pushed it away from her.

"I made this happen," Martha's voice was low and full of guilt.

"This is not your fault," Grace whispered.

"I should've stayed with him," Martha whispered. "I should've set Tommy free. I put him in danger."

"You do no such thing," Grace said, moving closer to Martha. "We didn't know that Michael had a gun. It could've been any of us. He could've shot any of us."

"But he shot Tommy," Martha whispered. "To get to me, he shot Tommy."

Grace was silent for a moment. "We don't know that."

The door to the room opened and the two women turned to the man standing in the doorway. Arthur was pale, dark circle under his eyes, and his clothes stained with blood. Martha and Grace stood to the news. Anxiety and fear clung to Martha's heart.

"He's stable."