rescue me [thomas shelby]

iv.

Thomas does not like shooting horses. He can shoot a man without thought, had done it many a time in France, but a horse just doesn't die the same way; they don't collapse to the ground like men, and it's off-putting, makes his nerves tingle and hairs raise. So, when he has to shoot the white horse he'd been given from the Lee's due to its cursed foot, he finds himself wandering the dark streets of Birmingham.

Usually, he'd go to the Garrison to drink and talk to Harry, so he can numb his mind for a little while, but he finds that after picking up a bottle of whiskey from the pub he can't stay there much longer. Tommy doesn't know what it is that drives him out onto the streets with the alcohol, as the empty pub would usually call to him, but he finds that he needs fresh air and walking.

So, he walks along the streets, ignoring those who pause to look at Thomas Shelby, alone and tired-looking. It's raining too, so his clothes have begun to stick to him and water has run into his eyes too many times for him to count. The main street looks long and empty from where he stands at the bottom of it, and it drives the thought of her, Frances Bevard, back into his head.

The woman with obvious intelligence and the confidence to stare him down the way he usually does to others. She ignites something within him and though they've talked very little their few occurrences together pull him in closer to her. And now he's promised to buy her new flowers – and he wants to go, wants to give her some happiness after what's happened, but he knows that if he does, he'll be in too deep.

There's a difference, he believes, between finding her interesting through a few brief meetings, through finding the hidden strength in her after terrible events, through her bright eyes, and knowing. Knowing induces so many other things; it means weakness and hurt should things change, means peeling himself back so he's exposed and vulnerable. Thomas understands himself well enough, though, to know that the rush of such a woman as Frances Bervard is just what he needs.

Tommy can't help it if he lets out a low groan as he walks, raising a hand to rub at his brow and attempt to quell back a headache. He'd stopped drinking the whiskey a while ago, found it wasn't helping him like it usually did. Instead, he lights himself a cigarette in the cool night air and continues his walk, the thought of his horse now replaced with the thought of Frances Bevard.

,

Frances enters the bookstore quickly, desperate to get out of the cold wind from the street. The store is the same as the last time she'd been there – large shelves spanning the entire shop crammed full of books with the same watchful old man sitting behind a counter. She gives him a weak smile and steps further inside into the warm, wondering what type of book to get.

She'd finished her other one much quicker than she'd thought she would due to its thickness, but after finding that she couldn't sleep quite as well as usual, no thanks to Thomas Shelby, she'd read it within a few short days. The Peaky Blinders leader hadn't yet followed up on his promise to buy her more flowers, and the thought of his blue eyes had kept her up more than she'd like to admit. So, she was there to buy another book.

Frances heads for one of the rows of books after another moment, gaze flicking over the books spines as she looked for one that captures her attention. It's after she's moved a few more paces down the aisle that a woman's voice from beside her says, "You look awfully at home here." Frances turns to face her, taking in her short curly hair and round face with a smile on. She'd also obviously been looking at books as well but has paused to talk to Frances.

"More then I'd like to admit," she replies, getting a slight chuckle from the other woman. "I'm Frances Bevard."

"Ada Shelby," she replies, and Frances keeps her smile up even though she feels shock run through her, ice cold. "I like to come here to drive my family a bit crazy."