Disclaimer: I don't own Peaky Blinders but I'd love to have an Alfie of my own...
This is not beta'd. I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors, I type fast and sometimes google docs autocorrects my fumbling fingers with different words. I have re-read over it several times but I'm sure I've missed some. This story rewrites Alfie's fate. I hated how things ended for him. Many events from the show remain the same if a little altered.
I hope you enjoy it.
Mercy, Camden Town, December 1918 - Alfie
It was a Wednesday and I had been here every day for the last week. Twisting my fingers together, I mill through the dense crowd swarming Camden Town train station. It was easy to blend in. The train ran three times a day now between here and London so I had been here before dawn, shuffling my numb feet around, trying to keep warm as my eyes skittered from face to face. This was the last train of the day and I felt the desperation acutely. The old wool coat swallowed my frame but I refused to stop wearing it. It was one of the precious few things I had left of him.
When they exited the train, the soldiers looked like one single heaving beast of khaki wool. I had despaired the first day I came to wait. In my mind I had envisioned him exiting the train. He would see me and straight away we'd rush into each other's arms and kiss. It would be romantic and I would cherish the memory for the rest of my life. In my fantasy there had been plenty of room, a desolate platform and a dark rolling train. The reality was quite different.
Nevermind that he had only ever kissed me once before. Nevermind that despite years and years and years of letters between us, he'd never said that he wanted me like that.
He had told me that he loved me. Signed all his letters with it. In my heart, I know he meant it. He would never say something that he didn't mean. But you can love someone and not be in love with them.
The crush of bodies was relentless. Hundreds of other people were waiting to see if a loved one got off a train and without word as to which train he'd be on, when he would arrive, it left me with only one option: to come every day and wait at each time.
I knew it was irresponsible but something about him always made me lose my wits. Saul was understanding about my missed days at work. He missed him just as much as I did.
But it wouldn't matter soon anyhow because he was coming home and he had said in his letters that I wouldn't be working at Saul's bakery much longer. When he got home, things were going to be different. He had a plan.
I bounce on my feet as the shrieking whistle blows, the slow chug, chug, chug, of the train coming into the station. My breaths come in short puffs now as the crowd surges toward the platform, pulling me toward it with them like some great human wave.
The cacophony grows tenfold, voices crying out, shouts and whoops of joy.
Then, just as the crowd had pushed forward, it pushes back as that khaki mass begins to bleed into the dark sea of woolen coats and scarves.
Three crowns on the shoulder. My eyes had tried to look at faces the first few days but people moved so fast and so instead I looked for the Captain insignia stitched on the shoulder. Three crowns and then I'd look at their faces. It helped me narrow my search field.
I do my best to push between gaps, my breath coming in sharp pants now. I can't see. I can't hear anything but a flurry of voices.
Suddenly, like Fate had reached down to stroke a loving hand on me, the bodies clear away and there he stands. He's here. The sight of him has paralyzed me. Roots me to the spot. Four years of war and he's here.
Older and harder, I felt he'd grown taller when in reality I know that can't be. He was nineteen when he left, already a giant. But it's him. I'd know him anywhere. When he left he'd been gangly. Muscled and hard, but more slender- boyish. Now, he was a man. Broad shoulders that strain his woolen coat. Thick arms that easily shoulder the burden of a tightly packed sack over his back. He'd grown a short cropped beard that was a shade darker than his honeyed blonde hair. A scar ran through it, another through his brow. My heart clenches thinking of the injury that he didn't write about.
My mouth opens to call out his name but before I can, the throng closes around me again. A searing desperation fills my lungs as I push and push through the bodies. When I stand in the spot he'd been in, it's empty.
Panic slices through me and I spin around, body shaking from the cold and terror.
No, no, he had been right here.
In a moment of frustration I pull my fists up to my chest and belt out, "ALFIE!"
Dozens of people around me stop, whirling to look at the small girl screaming through the crowd but I ignore them, enjoying the way they take shuffling steps away from me.
I draw in another deep breath, intent on calling out again when arms are surrounding me, spinning me, making the world a whirl of colors and noise.
When the world stops spinning, I stare up into icy blue green eyes full of mirth and worry.
"Dove," he breathed.
And he was here, my Alfie. Finally.
I gasp, my fingers gripping the pocket flaps on his chest. My eyes greedily take in his face. Every scar, every wrinkle, every change since I last saw him. He's the same… but different. My Alfie, but not. I felt starved for him. As if I could smother him into my chest and hold him there, warm and safe and mine forever.
Tears leak from my eyes and I press myself into his chest, reveling in how strong he feels, how hard and solid.
There are no words now. Nothing I can say that would express the joy in my chest, the loosening of a tension that I had carried for four long years.
Alfie was here. He was safe.
I watch patiently as he takes my hand in his, gripping it tightly before reshouldering the duffel.
The masses are more inclined to part for Alfie. His sheer size demands the room to move but it's his eyes, the blank look on his face, that makes men slide away and women turn their gazes down.
We walk from the train station and Alfie's hand never loosens from mine. He leads me through the familiar streets and alleyways, the brisk cold keeping my cheeks flushed and numb.
Alfie seems unaffected though, his breathing steady and sure while I gasp and heave from the quick pace. He tugs me along until we're at Saul's Bakery. I grin up at him, stroking my hand down his arm, feeling the corded muscles while catching my breath. I longed to watch him make Challah bread again. I wanted to see him at the block, flour on his skin, a bright light in his eyes.
We push through the back door with its faded and chipped green paint. A wall of warm heat blasts over my chilled face. Alfie lumbers up the stairs toward the spare room that Saul lets me stay in. His boots thump heavily on the wooden boards and when we are finally at my door, I slip around him, turning the knob.
Alfie crowds me inside, shutting us in. His duffel drops heavily against the door and I whirl to look up at him.
My fingers are threaded together again, waiting on bated breath for his words. It's what made me fall in love with him. Alfie's words. His humor. The way he conversed that eased my scrambled mind. But besides his pet name for me, he had not uttered a single one.
Big hands come up to my face, cupping my cheeks softly as his eyes roam over me intently.
"My Mercy," he rasps.
My hands grip his wrists, caressing the skin gently.
"Are you hungry? Can I get you something to eat? To drink?"
So eager I am, to care for him. I long to lie him back on my small bed, smooth the puckered wrinkles from his forehead and card my fingers through his hair. I want to wrap him in my threadbare quilt and feed him soup and warm fresh baked bread.
"No, Dove. Just a rest for me eyes, yeah?"
I search his face again and see what I had missed before. Alfie was tired. Exhausted. The skin beneath his eyes is puffy and dark. His sharp gaze begins to glaze over, shoulders drooping. It's only five in the afternoon and too early for bed but I wouldn't say that. Not when he had bled and fought and clawed in France for so long.
"Of course, Alfie. Let's get you in bed."
My fingers nimbly unbutton his coat and I glance up at him through my lashes, gauging his reaction to my ministrations.
He watches me quietly, a pondering expression on his face.
When the coat is off I lead him to the bed, pushing him gently so he sits down. I remove his cap and then kneel quickly, my fingers struggling to untie the knots of his boot laces. Alfie brushes my fingers away and does it himself but he lets me pull the boots off his feet, setting them down at the foot of the bed.
I grasp his socked feet and knead them, pressing my knuckles into the arches, squeezing and rubbing the heels and toes. Alfie groans in pleasure, his eyes slipping shut.
I stand and watch as he unbuttons his pants, stripping out of them and stretching. My face is warm from the sight of him in nothing but his socks and undershorts.
"Come to bed with me, Mercy, yeah?"
Swallowing on the sudden dryness in my mouth, I bob my head, letting his old wool coat slide from my shoulders. I hang it up, taking care with it and then begin to unbutton my dress.
Alfie watches me from beneath the blankets with half lidded eyes, his left arm stretched back behind his head, the taught muscles twitching as I let the dress slip off my shoulders.
I'm still wearing my slip, bralette, and panties. Toeing of my shoes, I make quick work of my garter belt and stockings before shivering in the brisk chill. Diving beneath the blankets, I shiver again but this time at how warm Alfie has already made the lumpy mattress.
His arms wind around me immediately, his body curving, molding, shielding. Flesh to flesh I can feel his dry warm skin against my legs and arms. His hot breath against my ear.
"I missed you so much, Alfie," I whisper.
"I missed you more, Dove."
It takes him seconds to drift off, soft snores snuffling the fine hairs on my neck.
His fingers twitch against my hip and stomach, legs jerking occasionally. He doesn't wake but instead burrows his face into my neck and shoulder.
A deep feeling of contentment washes over me. My fingers trace softly over his forearms that are wrapped snugly around my middle. I wiggle my toes against his shins.
The light in the room begins to darken and I know I should try to sleep but I'm too excited. Too happy that he's home.
Alfie's home.
He sleeps for over twelve hours.
At one point, I had tried to slip quietly from the bed to use the bathroom but Alfie had jackknifed from the bed, gasping, eyes wild and gripping my arms. He had hauled me into his heaving chest, a big hand pressing my skull into his clammy skin.
I panted, frightened as Alfie shook against me, not understanding the violence that vibrated from him.
"Fuckin' 'ell, love," he gasped.
"I'm sorry, Alfie. I only wanted to use the loo."
The biting grip loosened, his fingers rubbing apologetically over my sore flesh.
"No, Mercy. I'm sorry. Go, yeah. Come back quick."
I scurried to the bathroom and relieved myself as fast as I could. When I returned, Alfie staggered from the bed and shuffled down the hall to use it as well. I thought maybe he was ready to be awake with me now but when he returned, he shut the door and locked it. Sliding into the bed he crowded me to the far side and wrapped me up in arms again. His hold was tighter after that, his face pressing deeper into my neck. It was uncomfortable to not have room to move but I held still, stroking his arms and enjoying the solid heat of him behind me.
I had managed a few hours of sleep when my eyes blinked open and I heard the morning milk truck rumbling below my window.
With a soft sigh, I'm resolved to work today. I can't escape it any longer. Alfie is home and Saul needs the help.
This time, I manage to extract myself from Alfie without incident. Sliding to the bottom of the bed and dressing in near silence.
I make sure he's covered tightly and kiss his brow before leaving for the kitchen below.
Saul is already fast at work, warming the ovens and helping me to pull out ingredients. Yeast, sugar, flour, eggs. I work in silence mixing and kneading and shaping before sliding the pans into the waiting heat. Soon I'm damp with a light sheen of sweat, my hair starts to come loose from its bun. I clean my hands and try to fix the wispy curls, tucking them back into place.
Saul works silently, making the more delicate pastries. I watch as he layers butter and dough, stretching and forming it into shapes. The heady scent of precious vanilla and cinnamon waft over me, rare ingredients that Saul has a strange way of procuring. Now that the war is over, I hope that it will get easier. I hope we'll be able to get all the sugar and vanilla that we need.
When my last round of loaves are cooling on a rack, I hear a loud thump overhead, followed by the unmistakable sound of Alfie cursing.
Saul's head jerks up from his tray of sweet rolls and focuses on me.
"So Alfie's home then?"
I grin at him, nodding but before I can say anything I hear another thump, harder this time and Alfie snarling my name.
Saul's eyes go wide as my heart hammers. I throw down the rag in my hands and practically fly toward the back stairs.
I take them two at a time until I'm bursting into the room.
Alfie's head whips up, wild eyes inspecting me from head to toe.
"Bloody fuckin' 'ell, woman! I wake up and you're fuckin' gone! Scare me 'alf to fuckin' death you did. You can't wake a bloke up and warn 'im?!"
My heart thunders in my chest as I hold my palms up in surrender. Aflie had come at me then, quickly eating up the six feet between us with three long strides. He towered above, chest heaving, eyes holding such sharp accusations. My hands went up, fingers spread in supplication, a nervous energy vibrating through my body.
"I'm sorry Alfie, I had to help make the bread."
Angry eyes bore into me for a beat longer before his shoulders slump and the fire dies from them. He shuffles his feet until he's toe to toe with me, his arms coming up to stroke my neck and cheeks. I'm distracted by the fact that he's not wearing a shirt. He'd put on his pants but they were not done up all the way, the white strip of his undershorts peaking through. Wiry dark blond hair gathers under his navel trailing down… down… down…
I jerk my gaze up to his neck as he pulls me against his bare chest. I can feel his fingers stroking my hair, soothingly. He murmurs words of attrition in my ear. Gentle whispers that make my toes curl and my breath go choppy.
"I… I have to go back down, Alfie. I have to help Saul clean up, then I have to work up front, okay?"
Alfie pulls back to look down at me. He nods slowly, eyes studying.
"Alright, Dove. I'll be down in a minute, yeah?"
"Stay and rest, Alfie. You've earned it. I've already made the day's loaves. Just have to put them in the cases and ring up customers. Just… relax and rest."
His brows pull together before he shakes his head.
"I'll be down in a minute."
Sighing, I can only nod and leave him to dress.
It's a busy day. In fact, the last two weeks since soldiers had started to come home it had been busy. I talk in low tones with dewy eyed mothers, happy their sons have come home. Saul takes over after noon, letting me pilfer a loaf of challah bread and a wedge of cheese from the cooler.
Alfie had not come down in a minute like he had said. When I found him in my room, he looked too big for it. His lumbering form hunched at my rickety desk, the chair looking almost comically small beneath him.
He traced his fingers over the flat sheet of paper on the desk, a half written letter that I was writing when I received his last letter in the mail; the letter saying he was coming home.
I had not finished it, hoping that I could tell him all the words stored up in my heart instead of writing them on paper.
"I brought you something to eat, Alfie. It's not much but I can go to the grocer later and get something else. Whatever else you want. I've saved up my money for a while now. I can treat us to a dinner at Sorenson if you'd like? Or Gaffey's?"
He hums distractedly then picks up the paper, folding it neatly in thirds and carrying it to his duffel. Digging around inside, he produces a fat stack of letters held together with a thick string. Alfie slips it on top and it looks odd there without an envelope, without darkened stains and worn corners. It looks too new and sharp for the bundle.
"Come eat something Alfie, please?"
Shuffling to me, he drops down on the bed and I grin at him, offering him the challah bread, golden and shining.
He tears off a bulbous hunk and takes a bite, his eyes fluttering closed.
The bread and cheese go fast, Alfie nearly inhaling the rations with relish.
When he leans back on the bed, his hand over his stomach, I can't help but study his sleepy face. My eyes wander down his bare chest to that trail of wiry hair and then dart back up quickly, afraid of being caught.
"I've got to go out tomorrow, Dove. Meet with some people about the business, yeah? I wanted to spend the day with you today. Me first day. But tomorrow, I gotta start me work, don't I?"
I nod. I know how important this is to Alfie. His business. His own bakery. He poured it all out in his letters. The connections he had made in the army. The plans he had when he came back.
"Of course, Alfie. What can I do to help you?"
He blinks up at the ceiling.
"Nothin' now, Dove. Nothin' now. I'll tell ya when it's time."
I work my last few hours in quiet contentment. Alfie is home and there is nothing that can ruin that for me. We walk down the lane together, hand in hand, my eyes lingering on Alfie in quiet adoration.
Dinner is a quiet affair, sitting close together in the back of a small restaurant. Some approach to greet Alfie, shaking his hand, blessing his return. Others just smile from across the room, small waves to show their happiness.
I glow with my own happiness but it's dimmed. Alfie has been tender with me, held me all night and into the morning. He had a short temper but that was normal, Alfie was passionate, always had been. He'd never gotten angry with me before though. Never snapped at me.
He'd also not kissed me since he returned. The kiss I had imagined on the train platform faded away in wisps of smoke. It drifts away and I wonder if I ever dreamed it. I wonder if it was ever really meant to be or I had just wanted it to.
I was beginning to wonder what I was to Alfie now. Before, I had been so sure that he loved me and wanted more than our deep friendship. When he had left four years ago, I had cried and cried and cried in the back alley of Saul's Bakery. I watched as he walked away from me in his brand new uniform.
Alfie hadn't made it to the street before he dropped his pack and stormed back to me. He had grabbed my face roughly, desperately and his kiss was hello and goodbye and I'll miss you and I love you all at once. I had melted then, my body going limp, his arms sliding around my waist and holding me to him. His tongue invaded my mouth in slow firm strokes lighting a fire inside me I didn't know existed until he brought it to life. I held onto him, dug my fingers into his arms trying to fuse myself to him. If I could keep him there, if I could keep him with me, he would be safe. But he pulled away and kissed me softly, once, twice, three times before holding me tight. When he parted from my arms, I felt cold and separate.
"I'll be back, dove. I promise, yeah? You'll wait for ol' Alfie?"
I nod, tears welled in my eyes, my hands uncurled to reach for him. But he shook his head, stepping back from me.
"I love you, Mercy."
I thought about my racing steps charging toward the train station, frantic hands matching frantic words. Alfie's furrowed brows and puckered mouth as I explained in choppy breaths my anxiety a fire beneath my flesh. I thought about the dream I'd had for weeks before he left and how I-
Billowing gold clouds rolling over black scarred earth. A face melting into yellow mist until only a laughing skull remains.
No. No I wouldn't think about it. I wouldn't invite that terror into my mind. He was here. He was safe.
Alfie was home.