𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿, 𝗲𝗽𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗱𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝘅:
blue devils

THREE MONTHS WASN'T MUCH TIME to actually appreciate the feeling of freedom.  Tommy had begun to drink heavenly and his PTSD from the war was showing.  Soldiers would call 'em the shakes. Something very common. Restless nights, empty bottles disposed around all over his study, barely talking, always out.  That was how Thomas Shelby turned. So, Maggie did what she ought to do if something bad happened— she took care of Charles. Would keep him away from his father when she knew he was drinking, everything a mother was supposed to do. And when she left him to go to work, her heart would ache and she would miss his little angel face— she would even find herself counting hours until she'd see the boy again.

"Miss Kegley, I think you should tell Mr. Shelby to go see a doctor. He won't listen to me." Nervously spoke the maid, Frances, and Margaret hummed.

"Keep an eye on Charles for me." Whispered the woman as she left the room.

Margaret wasn't scared to go see Tommy, not at all. She was just scared of his reaction. See, when she finally accepted to take care of each other like he had promised a few weeks before. . . she thought nothing could stop them. Bloody hell, she was wrong. The conversations became rare and so the smiles, his eyes would sometimes perch over the woman but would appear empty. And Maggie felt like she was back in time. . . when she arrived in Small Heath again. The house was quiet, almost dead— no more laughs. Nothing. Just a hollow house with wandering people living in it.

These past three months had been full of joy for Maggie and Tommy. They were taking things slow, the tension was palpable, but they wanted to keep it at a slow pace. Charles had just started to call her mama and she had no idea how to feel about it, even though she adored how the word resonated in her ears. Mama. She even loved how Tommy would call her. Mag, love, sweetheart. And when he'd sneak onto the balcony and would hug her from behind, it felt like Margaret belonged right here. In his arms.

"Tommy." She said as the man had his two hands on the wooden desk, and was facing his feet. "Tommy." She repeated but he seemed totally somewhere else, so she walked closer and cleared her throat. "Thomas." She sternly repeated and he lightly shook his head, his eyes looking up at her. "Frances is worried. You are not yourself. You should call a doctor."

Tommy blinked a few times, his mouth slightly opened, "It's all right, Maggie." He replied as he poured himself a drink.

She scoffed, "You fucking know what. I'm going to call Polly."

"I know what this is. . ." He mumbled. "It's just myself talking to myself about myself. All right, thank you." He added chugging his drink and sitting back down.

But, Margaret didn't move. Instead, she closed the study's door and sat in front of him. She crossed her legs reaching for Tommy's cigarette box and pulled two out. The first one, she put between her lips and lighted it before repeating the same action with Thomas' one. Her hand protected the lighter's flame and let the cigarette's tip lit.

"You've got the shakes, Tommy. You need to get better and see a fucking doctor." Simply said Margaret. "You can barely stand up."

He scoffed lightly, "I fucking can."

"All right, show me." Sighed Margaret and she reached for his side, pulling his arm to make him stand up. He struggled to stay still and fell back on the chair. "Fucking can't. You know what Charles told me yesterday? He's scared of you. Bloody hell, Tom, your son walked on you drunk."

Tommy slammed his fist on the desk and looked back at her, "Do not fucking tell me what to do. I'm the boss." He yelled.

Margaret held her cigarette between her index and middle finger, and she put them on Thomas' chest pushing him a little further in the chair, "Thomas Shelby, don't ever fucking raise your voice at me." She muttered. "You're not the boss. Not when you're like that."

He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling on them. He glanced at Margaret who was back in the love chair and didn't seem to move. Deep down he knew she was right, but wouldn't admit it. And then for probably the first time in three months, he allowed his eyes to fall on her. Her hair was slightly longer, she had painted her nails red, she looked beautiful.

She cleared her throat, snapping him out of his thoughts, "You won't call the fucking doctor, eh?" Bitterly chuckled Margaret, shaking her head.

"Nah." He murmured. "Does, uh, Charles still call you mama?"

Maggie softly hummed, "He does, yes. Why? Had a change of heart and you don't want him to call me like that anymore?"

Thomas shook his head, "No. No. It's good for him."

She silently agreed and sighed out loud. She put the cigarette in his ashtray before standing up, she walked to the door before turning around and caught him staring at her.

"I want you fucking showered before dinner. You're eating with me tonight." Exclaimed the brunette before strolling out.

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To her astonishment, Tommy was already there when she reached for the dining room. He read the paper, and she noticed he listened to her, he had showered and wore his glasses.

"You're late." He commented.

Margaret scoffed, "Not like I excepted you to come. You know what, fuck you." Muttered the woman before sitting down.

"I'm sorry." Said Tommy.

Maggie looked up, green eyes gazing at the man, "Since you won't go to the doctor. I've called one on your behalf." Started to explain Margaret. "None of the boys know you're sick. Only Polly and I."

He sighed, "I'm not sick, Maggie."

"It started right after you stopped when you started resting. The war, the nerves. Or the alcohol. Pol told me they call that the blue devils."

Tommy quietly scoffed, "Yeah. Right. It's the fucking booze. The booze got out and the booze got in me bones." The room went silent again, the clock was ticking and all she did was gulp and held her stare.

The maids brought dinner as Margaret started to eat, curiously eyeing the man she didn't recognize. Sure, he still had his filthy mouth but he just hadn't the same energy as before. It truly pained her. Never in her life had she thought she'd experience that, she didn't have the chance to know how it felt since every man she knew, somehow died soon after the War. Margaret never had the shakes. She never had a calm life, but it wasn't like she was depending on the chaos Small Heath and The Shelbys brought upon her.

Sometimes, she'd find herself enjoying the sound of the gun cocking and how the men trembled at the sight. Begging for their lives. She even liked pulling the trigger which was rare for most people, but she felt like she did the right thing by taking their lives. Like she was setting free a soul who begged to escape from a devil's body.

Maggie had enough of silence, she truly wished for it to stop. She stood up from her chair and went to Thomas. Her hands cupped his face, "I have enough of silence, Thomas. I can't stand it anymore." She admitted. "I want you to come back to me, but to everyone too."

He cleared his throat humming, "I know."

Margaret's lips made their way to his forehead, and he wanted to feel them forever. How her lips softly brought warmth into the cold heart Tommy Shelby had. And he remembered the few nights he had sleep in the same bed as her, their legs were tangled, he held her close almost as if he was scared she'd slip from his grasp. And he'd peacefully sleep knowing he had everything he needed. Margaret Kegley was what he needed.

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AUTHORS NOTE,
ugh maggie being superior
as always <333 also tom being
an asshole AS ALWAYS

SORRY the chapter is kind
of short AHHHH