Tommy Shelby ~ Between the Walls and the Whiskey

Untitled Part 2

Authors Notes: Trigger warning in this chapter for attempted rape, racism and violence

Six months to the date of her first night at the Garrison, shouting came from the Shelby's room.

Cecilia was placing pints down on a table full of regulars when her ears perked at the sound.

She'd never personally been in a bar fight, but she would not go down in one either. She gripped the last glass on her tray...

The volume and content being thrown back and forth between the men was quickly getting more attention.

Suddenly the door flew open and a large man came stumbling out.

Tommy and Arthur followed after him looking only slightly disheveled. The man tried to say something, but Tommy hit him once, so fast his fist was a blur. One good solid blow to the face, and blood was drawn. The man held his nose cursing Tommy and Arthur, before he said something else that Cecilia couldn't understand, and Tommy hit him again. Same spot, just as hard

The man staggered, his moaning awful before he found his footing and turned, nearly falling as he made his way out the door.

The entire bar was held in wrapt silence. All eyes on the Shelby brothers.

Cecilia would never forget the way Tommy looked as he stood up straight, his back to them.

The jacket of his suit was a little wrinkled, and she saw the blood drip from his fist.

He looked back over his shoulder, and her face, like a beacon amongst the crowd was easy for him to find.

His hair was a mess of thick dark brown, his eyes were alive and beaming as they fixed on Cecilia, holding her still and steady with the energy between them.

It wasn't until she felt the tug of her dress and the request for more beer, that she pulled away from his gaze and looked down at the thirsty old man.

That night had been odd. He never fought inside, she never saw him fight at all actually, though there was no doubt he and his brothers did their fair share of brutality. It wasn't until about a week later that she learned why.

*

Cecilia left early for work that evening, as she wanted to help stock the shelves.

Evening had come, but only just, and her guard was down as she walked the streets, her wandering thoughts of the night ahead, and of Tommy.

Had she not been lost in a daydream, she probably would have heard the men. But she did not, and they seized the opportunity without pause.

Rough, large hands, pulled her into the shadows of an alley.

Sour breath was in her face so quickly, she gagged and pushed away, angry and confused.

"He's not here now is he darkie!" The deep voice and thick accent that attacked her were not familiar, but so much like every man in this town that he could have been anyone.

Cecilia opened her eyes to find that he was indeed a stranger, yet vaguely familiar.

He was dirty and large, and not alone. His friend with hair slicked to his forehead and a patchy beard stood grinning over her assailants shoulder.

"Who?" She asked, still confused, "Who's not here now?"

"You're little protector. And you're not going to tell him are you? Because if you do, we'll gut you, and your old preacher uncle. And that cousin of yours will hang."