If I Can't Have you

(31) The Showdown

Two loud gunshots sound quickly from outside of the pub causing Jemima to flinch, "Ada has taken a while changing Karl."

"That girl is going to give me pre-mature grey hairs," Polly complains as they raise from their seats, heading for the front doors to the pub just, opening it just in time to witness Tommy storming forwards and shooting Kimber between the eyes, his body falling to the floor.

Both their eyes divert to the other body on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood. Danny.

Freddie was hugging Ada, and fussing over Karl, whilst John was rushing towards Tommy, who seemed to be clutching his left shoulder.

Kimbers men begin to retreat as Arthur and Max also come to crowd around Tommy.

"Jemima," Polly says, trying to stop the women from running out of the pub.

Tommy looks up at her, pain portrayed across his face, "what are you doing here?"

"Thomas - shut up," Jemima replies, placing his right arm around her shoulders, and aiding him as they walk back towards the pub where Polly was waiting with a cloth, a bottle of vodka and a pair of tweezers.

"I told you to stay at your house, Jemima," Tommy groans as she sits him down on a chair.

"I know," Jemima acknowledges, helping to remove his jacket, before starting to unbutton his waistcoat.

"Is it bad I'm finding this erotic?" Tommy says.

"It is concerning, yes." Jemima answers him, moving onto his shirt, his bare chest soon on display to anyone who entered the room.

"You told me you'd stay at home," Tommy whispers.

"And you told me you'd be okay," Jemima says, moving out of the way so Jeremiah could get the bullet out.

John and Arthur hold Tommy as Jeremiah uses the tweezers to feel for the bullet underneath Tommys skin.

Jemima really didn't want to admit it, but she couldn't help herself from admiring his arms as he clenched his fists. The muscles aesthetically popping out, and the veins in his forearm and hands quite prominent.

She flinches as Tommy groans in agony when Jimmy finally removes the bullet, depositing it in a glass.

"Drink," Jemima commands, handing him the bottle of vodka, which he passes back once he'd taken a rather large gulp.

"Deep breath," she tells him, placing the bottle against the wound, letting the liquid seep into it whilst he buries his head into her neck, his hands gripping onto the table and his knuckles turning white.

"Guess Jemimas just going to have to settle for his right hand," Arthur jokes, "I could help you out, Mimi."

"Arthur, watch your fucking mouth," Tommy warns, lifting his head to glare at his older brother who laughs.

"Now all of you, piss off," Tommy orders, gesturing for them to leave the room, stopping Jemima when she goes to leave, "where do you think you're going, darling?"

"You told us all to piss off," Jemima responds, as his right hand comes to rest on her cheek, "all of them, you're different."

"Why did you come here?" Tommy asks softly, not too mad as it meant he'd had her by his side for this, but trying to gain understanding.

"We took a vote," Jemima says, "and I didn't want to be far, just for this reason."

"You care about me," Tommy smiles, a teasing look in his eye.

"Just a little bit," Jemima says.

"A little bit," Tommy repeats, shifting forwards so their lips were almost touching, "I care about you a little bit too."