𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲:
white ceiling

White.

White.

White.

That was all Margaret could see for days now. The same white fucking ceiling. Really, there was nothing more terrifying than falling asleep staring at the white ceiling and waking up to it. Maggie hated hospital, simply because all she could feel was death when she stepped in it. The bullet had put her to bed rest for a few weeks, leaving her alone in this big room without her kids or Tom, or anyone really. Upset, that was how she really felt. Upset she hadn't been able to save her baby, upset Tom hadn't cared visiting her, upset she was laying in bed and couldn't do anything, upset she couldn't see her sons.

"I'm sorry but it's too early for visit," she heard a female voice from behind the double doors. "Sir, she can't—"

"The hell she can't? I'm her husband," the too familiar voice roared as she could already see his fist tightening.

"What's your name?" Asked the nurse, innocently.

Tom let out a sigh, "Thomas Shelby and in there..." There was a long pause before he continued. "...there is me wife, Margaret Shelby."

The double doors flew open, revealing him as he let his eyes fall on his wife who stared straight back at him. Margaret let out a scoff, licking her lips as she swallowed the lump in her throat. Tears threatened to leave her eyes as he approached her, she wasn't sad, no. She was mad. Of course, Tommy felt guilty for not coming earlier, he had just been busy but he knew his excuse wouldn't be enough. As he looked at her, his heart ached noticing she had lost some pounds, the bags under her eyes were dark, her skin looked harsh as if they weren't taking care of her enough. Were they taking care of her?

"Mag," he started.

But before he could speak, she stopped him, "Don't," she warned. "Showing up after a week and a half is really bold of you, Tom. Really fucking bold."

Nevertheless, he sat down next to her hospital bed, putting his cap on her nightstand, "I was busy."

"I don't care," she replied, looking at the double doors. "I don't want you here, Thomas."

"I suppose we are going to have a problem because I want to be there," he spoke, lighting a cigarette as he placed it between his lips.

Margaret snorted, "You should have been here a week ago. Now's not the time," she replied, looking back at him as he seemed awfully calm. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Thomas. If it were you, I would have turned the hospital upside down just to see you, and you didn't even bother..."

Now, she didn't know if she felt sad or angry. Did he even love her? The question spiralled in her mind as she refused to talk more, afraid the tears would go down her cheeks. But the little voice in her mind reminded her that she had all the right to be frustrated, sad and angry. With a long and exhausted sigh, she dried rapidly the tear that had escaped her eye and looked away. Her eyes settled on the window behind her bed, though it was painful to move, Margaret had enjoyed this window ever since she had been stuck here. Today, the weather was clear and it made her want to play hide-and-seek in the garden with Charles and Elliot.

They had visited her a few times, accompanied by Finn, Ada or Lizzie. She hadn't seen Polly, she suspected her to feel guilty but she knew that the Aunt didn't mean to hit her. It was a mistake that was already long forgiven.

"I didn't think you wouldn't want to see me," he confessed after a few minutes spent in utter silence.

Margaret scoffed, "You are fucking stupid," she muttered. "Of course I wanted to see you, I've been hit by a fucking bullet for fuck's sake."

"What happened?"

"Polly wanted to—"

"No," he cut her off, puffing the smoke away. Oh, she could kill for a cigarette. "What happened after you came in here?" he corrected himself.

Maggie sighed, "I lost too much blood to even remember, I didn't wake up for three days after that," I've lost the baby, too but you don't care right? "When I woke up, a nurse was there and explained because it was all blurry."

"You have a scar?"

"Much uglier than the one you have on your cheek," she commented, reminding her of the times she would run her thumb accros it.

Thomas put the cigarette in the ashtray and moved closer to Margaret, his hands reached for her shirt as he lifted it carefully. He could see it and all of a sudden he felt sick, it was still swollen and red, though it had been sewed perfectly. Her skin was pale, much paler than what he remembered. Perhaps, he should have visited her earlier. He released a shaky breath and tried to cover it up with a cough, he pulled away and looked at down at her. So beautiful.

When did everything started to go downhill?

"Tommy..." she started hesitantly, taking a pause before allowing herself to look at him. "I'm sure you won't care but...but, I have lost the baby."

It felt like someone had hit him with a hammer, he was unable to form a correct sentence and he didn't know how long it took him to answer.

"What?"

Pathetic answer.

"Polly's bullet hit me in the stomach, I've lost a lot of blood and the baby," she explained. "But, I didn't except you to care," she added.

He frowned, "Why not?"

Margaret snorted but not in a playful way, "You stormed out of the pub when I told you, and you...we never acknowledged it again."

"I..." he released a breath, thinking that nothing could ever excuse the way he had reacted. She had been so patient with him, waiting the right time to talk to him and all he had done was pushing her away. "I'm sorry, Mag."

"I know you are," she replied calmly, wincing as she sat up and rested her back against the wall. "I know, Tom."

None of them continued to talk, as though they had come on a mutual agreement to not speak anymore. Truth was, Margaret was drowning in this silence and Thomas wasn't trying to reach out to her. But, she felt the need to reach out to him because he was all she had. He was her other half. She could feel it deep inside, his name would be forever scarred on her heart; right where he belonged.

"It wasn't your fault, Thomas," she reminded him. I want to reach out to you. "I am alive and I will be out of this place in a few more days."

He did not answer nor tried to, instead he grabbed her hand and held it tight. This is me reaching out to you, it said. For a fleeting moment, he was there and he held her hand but he pulled away after what felt like mere seconds. Margaret smiled at him in the softest way possible and gave him a loving look.

He cleared his throat, rose on his feet and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, "I have some business to take care of, but I will be back tomorrow. I promise," he told her.

"Alright, yeah," she whispered as he turned on his heels and walked out the two doors, leaving her alone.

Another thing she had realised while being trapped here was that she loathed being alone. Margaret was used to be alone before, she had no family and she would work in this small school from her city. She occupied the job of Italian teacher, and loved it. Perhaps that was why she managed to get close to Charles quickly. But, she didn't feel alone. And now that she was here, she was alone and felt utterly lonely.

White.

White.

White.

The same fucking ceiling again.

"Ah, Maggie," a familiar voice snapped her out of her thoughts as her eyes landed on Aberama Gold. "Hello."

"Oh, Aberama," she whispered, actually shock and relived to see him. He sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at her. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged, "I am back in Small Heath, I suppose."

"I'm very happy to see you," she managed to say, ignoring the fact that she was getting choked up at his sight. "I am..."

"I know," he reassured softly, squeezing her hand. "I've missed you too, Mag."

Margaret did feel happy to see him here, the happiest in fact, but she couldn't help herself to experience some kind of sadness. There were millions of words to describe Aberama, that was what Margaret thought but when she looked at him right in the eyes, all she could see was...a father. Perhaps it was because he had been hers for the last few years, hadn't he? He was the only father figure she had left, and she felt relieved and happy to see him.

"Want to smoke?" He finally asked.

Margaret sighed softly, "Forbidden me to do so," she gritted as he let out a chuckle, lighting his anyways. "Did you find them?"

"No," he replied. "Thomas did. Offered me the chance to kill him and I've said yes."

Margaret hummed and said, "You shouldn't trust him so much, Aberama."

"You do."

"I know," she smiled sadly. "Sometimes it is the worst part of it. I love and trust him...but, look where it had gotten me!" She exclaimed. "Alone, trapped into a hospital bedroom with a disgusting scar. I lost my baby," she then added with a sniffle.

Margaret felt lighter, saying it to somebody else than her or Tom. It somehow sounded more real now, as though the nightmare was over and she would go home soon.

"Baby?" He questioned.

She sat up, wincing silently before offering him a grin, "I was pregnant with another baby, you see..." she told him, her tone cheerful because truth was, she was happy to be pregnant again. "But, I don't think Thomas really wanted it. He blamed it on bad timing...I agree it wasn't the time to be pregnant but really...when is it? The best time."

He opened his mouth to answer but she stopped him, "And I tried my best to not bring it up so he wouldn't be mad...I'm a good person and wife, you know...I know I am. Do you think he sees it? Tommy, I mean?"

Aberama stared at her wordlessly as he took a second to actually see her, and not just her appearance. Through her, perhaps. Something was broken or maybe she was just going mad in this hospital? Had he seen her so...lost before?

"I'm sure he does," he finally replied, although he knew deep down that he could never be good enough for her. Thomas Shelby would never ever be good for anyone, not in this world.

Margaret smiled, "Perhaps he does."

She liked to think he did.

"I've been thinking of names before...before everything happened," she admitted shyly. "I have this bad habit of anticipating everything."

He chuckled, "Esme too."

"I miss Esme," Margaret stated, her eyes lighting up. "You should phone her and tell her that I miss her."

Aberama smiled, "I will. I promise."

"About the names..." she started, chewing on her bottom lip. "If it was a boy, it would have been Bonnie and you would have been named Godfather," she said quickly as his face softened. "If it was a girl, it would have been Ruby. Pol always said we should name our daughter Ruby."

He grinned, "Well, Polly is a smart woman, isn't she?"

"Oh, she is," she nodded her head. "And soon to be a Gold, eh?" She teased as he blushed. "Oh, God! Aberama Gold is blushing everyone!" She exclaimed happily, cupping his face. "Oh, look at you."

"Pretty, am I not?" He smirked as she laughed. "I love her."

Margaret looked at him, nodding her head and replied, "I know. She loves you."

Aberama stayed with Margaret until it was dark outside, and the nurse walked in for the tenth time to ask him to leave. He kissed Margaret's forehead before putting on his coat and walking out of the hospital, as he whistled his favourite tune down the hallway. Margaret focused on the noise and listened as it faded away, then again she was alone.

——————

AUTHORS NOTE, we are back with a VERY short chapter, im so sorry but i feel like i'm clearly reaching the end for this book and have no inspiration for it 😭

i am still debating if i should write another chapter or just publish the last one in a few days! also this book won't have a epilogue, after thinking about it, it will kind of be useless!! (edit: it does have a prologue)

but, thank you for the love. it warms my heart and i love you all very much x