VICES AND VIRTUES | Thomas Shelby

FIVE

Sleepless nights had plagued Florence's mind in the days that followed her night at the Garrison with Elijah and the boys. She didn't know what was causing her to wake up in the night, for her the darkness wasn't riddled with torment the way it was for Tommy.

She would lay beside him at night, knowing that he wasn't sleeping either, but not wanting to say anything and discuss why she wasn't sleeping she would just lay there with her back to him. His arm would be around her waist and his warm breath would be steady against her back, telling her that he was awake, counting down the hours until the sun rose.

But this night was unlike the rest, Tommy lay asleep beside Florence, a sight that she was not used to, the only other time she had seen him sleep was that night when they came home from the Garrison. The sun was just beginning to rise outside, embers of warm light creeping through the lace curtains that hang over the window.

Florence admired the way that the sunlight danced over Tommy's skin, noting how peaceful he looked when he slept. She sat beside him, resting against the headboard, reading a book that Polly had given her that would inform her of everything she needed to know about the races. Tommy had been so visibly tired over the last few days that Florence wasn't surprised that he fell asleep so quickly.

Florence became startled as Tommy began mumbling in her sleep, his body jolting slightly. She placed her book on the floor beside her and turned her attention to Tommy, fearing that this might be caused by the nightmares that Polly spoke of. She waited with baited breath, wondering whether she should wake him, her mind running wild with panic at the thought of what might be terrorising him as he slept.

She couldn't bare it much longer, watching his body jolt in fear as he continued to mumble senselessly, she hated to think of him in pain, "Tommy, it's me."

Gently, she placed her hand on his cheek, brushing her thumb back and forth, hoping not to startle him, "Tommy, it's okay."

His hand wrapped tightly around her wrist and his eyes shot open, riddled with fear as he stared up at her, the sun framing her like some sort of guardian angel. Which she was when you compared her to the Shelby man.

"You're alright," She whispered as Tommy let go of her wrist, "Everything is okay."

"I'm sorry," He mumbled, sitting up and turning to sit on the edge of the bed, his back to her, "I didn't want you to see that."

"Hey," Florence soothed, moving towards the bed towards him, placing a gentle kiss to his shoulder blade, "It's okay."

"No, it's not," Tommy muttered, retrieving his cigarette from the bedside table, placing it between his lips and lighting it.

"Tommy," Florence sighed, sitting beside him on the bed and placing her hands over his, "I see you, all of you, and I love you."

"Well, you shouldn't," He sighed, running his hand through his hair, hating that Florence saw him in such vulnerability, or as he saw it, weakness.

"Thomas, look at me," She whispered, running her hand along his cheekbone, tilting his head to look at her, "I have known you my whole life, there is nothing you could say that would scare me."

"Flo," Tommy replied, placing his hand on her thigh, "If you saw the things that I see, the shovels that hit that wall every time I close my eyes then you would run a mile."

"Thomas," Florence answered, doing her best to stifle her frustration, "There is nothing that you could say that would be a burden to me."

"I shouldn't be here," Tommy replied, once again shutting himself off as he collected his clothes from the floor, slipping his trousers on followed by his shirt.