Chapter Sixteen
Nothing Without Love

Tommy had awoken before Martha, and had spent some time in bed watching as she slept, her mind creating dreams for her to explore. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, and laid a gently hand upon her to feel the movement of her breathing. The warmth of his hand had caused a small reaction, one that stirred her gently but was not enough to fully wake her. Her eyes remained closed, the long eyelashes fanning across the apples of her cheeks, and her lips, ajar and cracked, murmured his name in a husky, tired voice.

"I'm here," he whispered quietly, unsure as to whether she was waking or if it was part of her dream. He kept his eyes upon her sleeping form and a soft, genuine smile etched across his face. He thought of the last couple of days and how much his life had changed. The love he'd had for Martha before he left for war was incomparable. He could never put into words the connection he had with her, and never in his life would he imagine having a love as strong as theirs. She knew his flaws, and she loved him anyway.

It was a strange concept for him. He believed she had left him. He had believed that she had made the decision to leave purely because her love for him had diminished and faded as quickly as he had from her life. But that was not the case. It had never been the case. He never believed in fate, but having her return to him made him believe in it a little more.

He slipped out of the bed as quietly as possible, and made his way downstairs to grab the two of them breakfast. Since what had happened at the house, they had been holed up inside with him healing for the most part. It was a great moment for them to reconnect wholly, and find out more about the other, as time had passed between them. They had both changed, there was no doubt about that, but little things remained the same. The way she would automatically rub at her neck when she was nervous. The way she blushed whenever he looked over at her. The way she excitedly rambled about things she enjoyed. The way she picked at the hem of her dress when caught in a moment.

They had spent most of the time reminiscing about the past, about how they met, and how their love for each other had brought them back.

The house was cold as he descended downstairs. The street outside was bleak, and he hurried as he made breakfast. As he toasted the bread, scraped on marmalade and poured the tea, he was lost in his own thoughts for a moment. He could feel it; deep down in the pit of his stomach, anxiety was eating away at him. He couldn't put a finger on it, but something did not feel right. He was good at reading situations, and for the most part, he'd stayed away from trouble. But he knew that trouble would find him in the end. It always did. He knew the situation he and Martha found themselves in was not the best one, there was no denying the fact that some people would be out for blood.

Michael had remained hidden, just as they had done. But monsters always hid in the shadows, waiting and biding their time to strike. He knew men like that, who waited for the perfect moment to creep out into the sunlight and cause trouble.

Tommy pushed it to the back of his mind as he made his way back to Martha. As he pushed the door open quietly, a tray in his hands, he saw that Martha was sat up in bed, a small smile on her tired face.

"You were snoring," Tommy joked. "Kept me up all night."

Martha chuckled lightly. "I do not snore."

"You do," Tommy smirked. "I'm surprised the street didn't wake up to you."

"Ha-ha," Martha fake laughed.

"I made some breakfast," Tommy said. "For me. Yours is downstairs."

Tommy sat in bed, and placed the tray on his lap. He began to eat the toast and marmalade, his gaze occasionally flicking to Martha who watched him with a smirk on her face.

"Mm… it tastes delicious," he commented. "I would offer you some but it's just too good to share."

Martha chuckled. "You're so cruel!"

Tommy turned to look at Martha. "Would you like some?" he asked, to which Martha nodded politely. He offered her some and as she went to take it from him, he whipped it back. "Kiss…"

Martha moved towards him and gently brushed her lips against his. The tanginess of the marmalade was on his lips, and as they kissed, Martha moved a hand to the plate and stole a slice of toast from it.

"You thief," Tommy said, his lips still upon hers. Martha chuckled and moved away, taking a bite of the toast. They ate in silence, with Tommy passing Martha her tea. She relished the taste of the tea.

"You always made the best tea," Martha whispered. "I missed that."

Tommy reached for her hand and grazed his thumb across her knuckles. "You're the only one who likes the way I make it."

"Good," Martha said. "More for me."

Tommy chuckled. He bit at his lip as he watched her eat the rest of her breakfast. He pondered over a thought, one that he was unsure as to how Martha would feel about it.

"Let's get out of this house," he began. "We've been cooped up in here for weeks now, and as nice as it has been, let's get out there again. We'll dress up and we'll go for dinner some place nice."

"The Garrison?" Martha smirked.

"There's nothing wrong with it," Tommy chuckled. "No. We'll go into town, to a fancy restaurant."

"It sounds like a great idea," Martha replied. "Are you sure it isn't too soon?"

Tommy shook his head. "We have to show our faces again."

"If you're sure," said Martha. "Then we'll do that."

It was planned for them to go to a restaurant in the evening. They pulled themselves out of bed and began to prepare for their date. It was exciting for Martha, as she had never been out with Tommy in a grown up setting before. She acknowledged the butterflies dancing in her stomach, and could not wait to spend more time with him. Tommy had announced to Martha that he had to leave for a little while, and as he left, she got a bath prepared.

As she relaxed in the bath, she closed her eyes and thought of Tommy. She had to pinch herself every time she thought of him, even being in his company was not enough to convince her that it was real. But he was there. And she could not stop herself from grinning from ear to ear. It was a while later when the door to the bathroom opened, and panicking that it was someone else, Martha covered herself as much as she could. The door was shut quickly and Martha laughed loudly as she realised that it was Tommy.

"I have something for you," he said as he hung the rather large present on the back of the door.

"Is it a bicycle?" Martha smirked. Tommy glanced back at the door.

"How did you guess?" Tommy smirked. He moved to the bath, and got down on his knees beside her. Her hair was wet and hung in wet strands around her face, and her cheeks were red from the heat of the water. He grazed his fingers across her face and cupped her chin, and looked lovingly at her. "You're beautiful."

Martha glanced away shyly.

"I got you a dress for this evening," Tommy said. "I know you had to leave all your belongings behind. I wanted to make you feel special this evening."

"You didn't have to," Martha said.

"I know," Tommy replied. "But I do. You're my life, Martha."

He gently kissed her hand and stood, unbuttoning his shirt. He stripped off and as Martha giggled, he slipped into the bath as water splashed across the floor.

The restaurant was a grand affair. The atmosphere was electric as Tommy led Martha to their table, weaving in and out of tables filled with people in glamorous dresses and expensive suits. Candles adorned the tables, as shiny cutlery and expensive glasses were placed delicately upon the wood. Fabrics, golden and shiny, hung from the ceilings, leading towards the main dinner hall. The chatter seemed to cease as soon as they had stepped onto the floor, and she felt a little out of place, knowing that if they knew of her past, they would turn their noses up at her. Tommy must've sensed her hesitancy and squeezed her hand reassuringly, as all heads turned to watch them.

Martha breathed in deeply. She felt important being there with Tommy. They took a seat at their table, aware of the attention on them. Tommy was watching how Martha was handling the eyes upon her, and from the aversion of gaze, he knew that she was not dealing with it as well as he had originally thought.

As the night deepened, the patrons of the dinner hall seemed to forget about them and resumed with their own meals. Martha was grateful, and Tommy felt relieved at being able to spend the evening with Martha and without the worry of their every move being watched by those around them.

Food had been consumed, wine had been drunk, and they were enjoying each other's company. As the hours went by, the dinner hall had dwindled down to a mere few couples and Tommy could relax wholly.

"You look beautiful," Tommy commented. The dress that he had gone out and purchased for Martha had gone down incredibly well, and she was pleased with how well he had chosen. It was a nude embellished shift dress with a stunning art deco beaded pattern adorning the material. As soon as Martha had seen it, she had fallen in love with it.

"I feel beautiful," Martha whispered. "I don't want this night to end."

It was as if her words were a signal for trouble to roll in, and she blinked a few times hoping that her eyes were playing tricks on her. The man met her gaze and with a sickening smirk began to make his way over to their table.

"Martha?" Tommy called out to her, and, sensing her panic, turned around.

Standing there was Kimber.

"Well… if it isn't the whore and the bandit."