Bloodsport ; tommy shelby

𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏 - dodging bullets

"Fuck," she flinched as she dabbed her bloody cheek with a wet towel. She stared into her reflection in the mirror and sighed, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Ivan had left her flat an hour or so ago, and Iris had finally managed to pick herself up off the floor and try to decide what to do next. So far, no ideas had sprung to mind.

Iris had dealt with Ivan before, and she knew that her time was up. She'd spent years running and hiding, determined to do anything to survive, but now it was too late. She had fallen in love, and it had weakened her.

For the first time in years, something mattered more to Iris than just surviving.

She didn't sleep all night. It was late when Ivan had left, and she was exhausted, but she wouldn't let herself fall asleep. Keeping a firm hand on her revolver, Iris lay on her side staring at the wall until the morning light came seeping through the window.

It was a work day of all days, so Iris had to go in and face all the Shelby's. A part of her thought about taking the revolver to her head and ending it herself, but she had to see him one last time.

She reluctantly dressed herself, making sure to leave her gun in her coat pocket. On the street, Iris lit a cigarette as she walked.

Oddly, for once the paranoia had dissipated. Maybe it was because Iris knew that the worst was already here. In fact, that meant all along it hadn't been paranoia, but in fact just her instincts being correct.

She knocked on the door to the Shelbys' house, stubbing out her cigarette. Polly answered, and looked her up and down.

"Morning sunshine," the woman said sarcastically. "What happened to your face?"

"Fell off a horse," Iris said half heartedly as she stepped inside, taking off her coat.

John and Arthur gave her odd looks as she walked in, going over to sit at her desk, but she ignored them.

She sighed, pulling out the graphs she'd been forming over the past month at work and studying them. There was a tap on her shoulder, and she turned around. Tommy was looking down at her as he smoked a cigarette. She could see Polly lurking behind.

"Come with me," Tommy said.

Iris said nothing, but followed him into one of the offices with a desk and chairs. She took a seat, and he sat across behind the desk.

"What happened to your face?" He asked.

"Is this an official business meeting?" She asked, ignoring the question.

"I asked you a question," he said.

"You know what happened, you were there," Iris said, shakily lighting a cigarette. She was losing touch with her ability to seamlessly slip lies into conversations, so she didn't allow herself to meet his eye. "I fell off the horse."

"Oh don't give me that, Iris," he said, getting up. He came round to her side of the table and leaned against it. "These aren't the same bruises."

She said nothing. She was tired of lying.

"Look at me," he said, his voice softer. He held a hand out to her cheek and she flinched slightly. A tell tale sign. "Look, if you've got yourself into some kind of trouble we can sort it."

Iris looked him in the eye. She wanted to believe him, but there was something in her telling her not to. She loved him now, but who knew if she could trust him with something like this. Who knew if he'd care about her this much if he knew who she was.

There was no way Ivan would go down without a fight, and she couldn't risk getting her secret exposed. She hadn't trusted anyone to sort out her business for her before, so why start now?

"There's nothing, really," Iris said, standing up. She tried to head for the door but he pulled her back, looking into her eyes.

She tried to fight it for a moment, but she let him meet her gaze. Blinking, she attempted to hide the tears that so desperately wanted to flood down her face.

"I'm fine," she mumbled. He stroked her bruised cheek. She took his hand in hers and pulled it away from her face, squeezing it tightly.

She let go, heading back out to her desk and sitting down.

The day went by slowly, and Iris kept her head down. Tommy rarely came into the office anyway, as his business extended the bounds of the betting shop, but today he vanished from it entirely. Iris wondered what he might have been doing, and hoped it was nothing to do with her.

When she was leaving, she passed through the kitchen.

"Iris," the woman called as she stepped out onto the street.

Iris turned, a cigarette between her lips. Polly looked her in the eye as if she had something to say but wasn't sure how to.

"If you're smart, you won't keep things from Thomas," Polly finally spoke. "He trusts you now, but once that's gone..."

"I don't need advice, Polly," Iris said a little coldly. "And I'm not keeping anything from him."

"Nobody knows who you are," Polly stated.

Iris said nothing. There was some truth to that, but she didn't have a choice. Oddly, she had been the most herself in years since arriving at Small Heath, but Iris had given up her ability to truly live openly a long time ago, and that was something even Polly would never understand.

"I don't know what you want from me," Iris sighed.

"The truth," Polly said firmly.

"I fell off the horse," Iris insisted. "There's nothing more to it."

Polly looked her in the eye for a long moment and sighed. "If you say so," she said, heading back off into the house.