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Lucille
The sound of Tommy's groans filled the private room. Perhaps it was the fact that the first time he'd had a bullet removed from his body, he had to be as quiet as a whisper, that made the sounds of pain seem so loud. The agony was finally being shared as strongly as his hoarse voice would make possible. Lucille held her breath, moving to remove the bullet with the same precision and care that she took the first time.
"I can't exactly be mad at you, can I?" she said softly, trying to distract him.
"No, you cant." A chuckle left his lips, but it was interrupted by an abrupt cough.
"What are you smirking at?" he asked.
It wasn't until he said it, that she realised she was making a face at all.
"It's funny, isn't it?"
"What is?"
"How much things have changed," she began. "The last time I did this, I'd barely heard an English accent before. Now it's all I hear."
"I remember," she continued, a nostalgic look on her face as she picked up the tweezers. The sound of her voice was enough to draw his gaze from the bloodied wound toward her eyes. "I remember that you told me you were good at business. That Arthur had something like his own, but he wasn't good at it, not like you were."
She chuckled briefly, stilling her hand as she dug the bullet out, hearing the sharp exhale leaving Tommy's lips. He was all out of screams. The clattering of metal hitting the table broke the stifling silence, and even the air seemed to let out a tense breath, washing them in a cool shiver.
"It's that business that got you this second bullet wound."
"I am good though," Tommy said, not hiding his own cheeky smirk. "At the business, I mean."
A layer of sweat glistened on his forehead, flattening his dark hair against his head. Lucille pushed it back, pulling his shirt back over his head. She mirrored his smirk, helping him with his jacket as she purposefully ignored his words.
"Come on, we're missing the celebrations," she said, pulling him up by the hand.
Somehow, despite everything, Dawson hadn't lost his smile.
Lucille couldn't ignore the look he sent Ada's way as she moved through the room, still covered in the long, black coat which was too big for her short body. It made her feel sad, if only for a moment. He always picked wrong, when it came to women, she thought. First the much older woman. And now, well, she loved Ada, but she was married.
Ada finally met her side, leaving Karl with a beaming Esmé- whos lips were already red and swollen.
"Will you dance with me?" Dawson said suddenly.
"This is hardly the place for dancing!" Ada said, a small smile appearing on her face.
"Says who? Anywhere can be a place for dancing," he said. Lucille shook her head in disbelief. "Back in my club, we have dancing every night until the early morning."
"You own a club?" Ada said, eyebrows rising.
Dawson nodded, smirking proudly. It was obvious that very line worked for him often. "My very own, for now. In London," he said, before holding his hand out to her. "So, a dance?"
Ada ducked her head. "I'm afraid I'll have to say no."
Dawson nodded sweetly. "Next time, maybe."
Lucille glanced between them, eyes landing on Dawson with raised brows.
"If you won't dance, I will," she said, placing her own hand in Dawson's, watching as his smile returned.
He pulled her backwards, spinning her around before she could get a single word or step in. Blonde hair zipped around her face, ruffling over her shoulders and landing against her open lips. Lucille let out a squeal of laughter as he spun her around again.
They finally settled, Lucille's arms landing on his shoulders. "What was that about?"
Dawson didn't even try to act innocent. "Can't blame a man for trying," he said, shrugging his shoulders.
"She's married!"
He simply smiled smugly, spinning her again. "Can't blame a man for trying."
With a deep flush, Dawson spun Lucille into Tommy's side. She let out a laugh as she crashed into his steadying arms.
"Having fun?"
"I had to save him from the embarrassment," she said, watching as his eyebrows rose. "It seems Dawson has a tiny fancy for your sister."
He shook his head, unsurprised by the fact. As they shuffled to the bar, Finn and Adds went hobbling past, giggled erupting from their mouths. Tommy stuck out an arm, catching Adds in her stride, pulling her up.
"Ah! What sort of trouble are you two getting up to?" He called, lowering his voice in a way that made another fit of laughs escape her lips. He sat her on the side of the bar, an arm keeping her steady.
"We were doing nothing!" Finn squealed, eyes widening suspiciously. "I swear!"
Lucille laughed as she watched him with the two children, somehow acting as if she hadn't wrapped him up in bandages barely an hour ago. Finn and Adds were none the wiser, beaming up at his as if he were some sort of God. She helped Finn clamber up onto the swivelling chair, too high for his ten-year old's legs.
"Do you believe them?" She asked Tommy playfully. "I don't believe them at all, for some reason."
"It's the guilty face," Tommy said. "I know it well."
Adds squealed again, face reddening as Lucille jumped to tickle her, tucking her into her chest, blonde hair spilling over her shoulder.
"Run along," Tommy said, putting her back to the floor so she could waddle along after Finn, hands interloped.
Lucille sighed as she watched them go, before turning back to Tommy, immediately wrapping her arm around his waist, being careful of his bandages. His chin rested against his chest, eyes staring directly into hers, entranced,
"You're good with them."
Tommy grinned. "You say that like it's a surprise."
"Would you blame me if I say it is?" she said. "Before I left France, you didn't even know she existed. Everyone said I was stupid for leaving my home to come here, even my friends."
"I'm glad you came," he said, holding her tighter on impulse, not flinching as her head brushed closer to his fresh wound.
"So am I," Lucille said, glancing up to his strong gaze. "Coming back to you was the best thing I ever did."
Tommy didn't leave her with a second to breathe as he brought her lips to his, fingers trailing across her jaw as he brought her closer and closer until they were almost stitched together. Neither of them wanted to let go- neither of them could. All around, the sound of talking and shouting and the clinks of drinks went unnoticed, merging into one loud, background clash. For once, it was just them, holding onto each other, sharing one passionate kiss.
In amongst the passion and the knowledge of her belonging, something in Lucille stirred, warming her stomach, flowing from her heart. It felt an awful lot like the beginning of forever, as typical as it was, just as the storybooks told.
