rescue me [thomas shelby]

viii.

The table Frances sits at is uneven from the rocky ground, and she can't help but tilt it occasionally, just so she can. She lights a cigarette as she watches everyone dancing; the music is cheerful and almost drowned out by the laughter of the gypsies and crowd of Peaky Blinders. It makes her anxious; normally she'd be dancing with everyone for the pure joy of it, but her stomach is making her feel queasy and she wishes she were tucked into her stiff bed instead.

Thomas is talking to Polly at the moment, his eyes flicking over to her intermediately from his position in front of one of the trailers. It's the first time that Frances has wished Tommy wasn't near her, the first time that she hasn't found him an interesting person. Maybe she's just tired, but the girl needs some reasons behind it all, behind whatever she's feeling. She needs to think.

Her cigarette burns her finger and Frances realises that she hadn't even inhaled from it, simply letting it burn out until it stings her skin. She throws it to the ground, crushing it quickly and wiping the pile of ash off the table. She feels his presence before she sees him. He's beside her, lighting his own cigarette as he leans back in one of the seats. Frances doesn't turn to look at him, simply crossing her hands tightly and watching Ada dance. She's going too hard and too fast; she's worried about the baby. She doesn't voice it, however.

"Are you feeling alright, love?" Tommy asks, obviously picking up on her anxiety. Frances wishes he would give her the space to think, but she doubts that'll be happening.

"I'm fine," she says shortly, feeling his gaze burn into the side of her head. She misses laughing with him as they walked down the street, heading to the florist when he was simply a boy that was on the wrong side of the tracks; not a man that hunted down his sister and used his brother as a bargaining chip. She was certain that John's marriage wasn't simply for peace between the Lee's and the Shelby's; she wasn't stupid enough to believe that, Tommy would definitely be using the Lee's men for something.

Perhaps she'd feel better if she knew what it was that he was using them for, if she understood his reasoning behind everything, but she didn't have enough information. Frances almost wishes for a moment that they hadn't kissed so she could sort out her feelings properly before giving him her promise, though deep within her she knows she doesn't regret it.

"You're fine, huh?" Tommy says sarcastically, dragging her up from the dark hole her mind had been inhabiting. "Shall we have that dance, then?" He rises to his feet, extending a hand to her and staring down at her with his pretty blue eyes. She almost gets lost in them again.

"Sorry, Tommy," Frances says quietly, though to her it sounds like her voice is at the end of a tunnel and she's shouting to be heard. She rises to her own feet, catching his eye again as the two stare at each other, close enough that she can feel his warmth. She places a hand on his chest as some form of comfort, for him more than herself, she tells herself. "Not today."

She nods slightly and steps around him, heading down the dirt path back towards Small Heath quickly. Frances isn't surprised when he doesn't follow her, glancing back to see him talking to Polly and glancing at Ada, face expressionless as if she hasn't just walked away from him. He doesn't seem to care at all, and it reminds her of when she'd been vomiting, and he'd simply turned his back. She wonders if he ever does anything for simply himself, or if there must be some gain from everything.

,

Frances had stayed back at work so she could help prepare some doughs for the next day, so by the time she leaves work it's nearly 7 pm and the sun has already nearly set as they head into winter. She doesn't think much of anything until she arrives in her room and Tommy's sat at her table, musing over some papers. She doesn't even question how he got in, cursing Frank for a moment before simply wandering over to the table and sitting beside him. Her hand rests on her gun and it feels as if they're back at the start; she's gone back to being nervous of him.