𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲:
we miss you.

"I know someone," admitted Lizzie, glancing at Linda.

Margaret had never thought of divorcing Thomas, even after the Wall Street crash or the recurrent threats toward their family. She knew what she was getting into. Plus, they had vowed until death did them apart. Then, Linda kept trying to put all these ideas in Maggie's head, and sometimes late at night, she'd found herself thinking about it. Guilt would creep in her stomach as soon as she faced her husband, and she mentally cussed at Linda for putting these absurd ideas because Margaret loved Tommy, she loved him.

And, besides Maggie didn't get why she would want to divorce Arthur, sure he had his flaws but he was good man. At least, he was a good one with her. His drug addiction and his need to drown himself into alcohol didn't help, so she could kind of understand why, but never she thought Linda would go that far.

"If you want to divorce a Shelby, you'll have to go to London," added the dark haired woman, sipping on her tea.

Margaret let out a silly laugh, "I don't even know how we got to this conversation."

Linda seemed shocked by this sudden answer, "Maggie, you agreed..."

"No, no," she answered rapidly as she started pacing around the living room. "You...you...you put all these thoughts in my head! I didn't even have them before you came over and said those things out loud."

Linda scoffed, "It's because you realised that you didn't love Tom, or that it was dangerous loving him."

No, she's a liar, thought Margaret.

Liar. Liar. Liar.

"I love Tom, I'm certain of this," argued Margaret, looking Linda right in the eyes. "You made me think that loving him was a bad thing—when it's the total opposite. He loves me and I love him."

"Don't be stupid, Maggie," Linda exclaimed, putting her cup of tea down. "You're acting as ridiculous as them," she added.

Margaret breathed out, "Shut up, alright? I want you out, Linda."

"But—"

"Out!"

It took ten minutes to throw her out of the house, ten long minutes where Linda kept babbling about the whole thing. Margaret would be damed if Thomas ever heard of this conversation, words tended to get around the house rapidly and she definitely didn't want her husband to overhear it. Lizzie had stayed in the living room, clearly unfazed by the whole scene and had finished her tea when Maggie made her way back to the living room.

"I should have pointed my gun at her fucking head," Margaret muttered as Lizzie laughed. "It would have been much easier, right?"

"Come on, Mag. Let's go get the boys, eh? They must be lonely upstairs," she rose on her feet as Margaret followed.

It had been the right idea. Seeing Elliot and Charles in their playroom had instantly lighted her mood as she strolled in it, kneeling down to kiss the top of their heads and motioned for Lizzie to come.

"Aunt Lizzie!" Elliot cheered loudly enough to make Charles cover his ears with his hands. "We've missed you," he added as she took him in her arms.

"Mum, you've put lipstick on my cheek," Charles muttered, rubbing it harshly to make it go away.

Maggie chuckled, "Charlie, it's only lipstick. It'll go away, love," she told him as he pouted. "How was violin practice, loves?"

"Good," Elliot replied happily. "We've leaned a new song!"

"Is that right?" Lizzie queried, putting him back down and greeting Charlie. "How are you, Charles?"

"Alright," he shrugged his shoulders, glancing at her. "When is daddy coming home?" He then asked Margaret. "Is he going to have dinner with us?"

Margaret sighed, "I hope so."

Lizzie had left the house hours ago now, Thomas hadn't returned and she found herself having dinner with her two boys. Not that she despised it, really. Charlie's face broke her heart, he had probably been waiting on his father all day—and he hadn't showed up. Even when she put them to bed, they couldn't hear no car around the house meaning he wouldn't be back before late. Elliot, him, was too young to understand what his father was doing—he was happy to see him home, missed him a little when he wasn't there but...according to Polly, who had a conversation with him, Elliot had stated that he missed him but knew his daddy was doing the right thing. Margaret really pondered it lately.

She had never doubted Thomas' actions or whatsoever. If needed, she would have followed him through hell. But, trust was a hard thing to give and get.

"Why aren't you asleep?" His voice rang through her ears as she looked up at him. He was standing in the door frame of their bedroom, a drink in hand. "It's late, Maggie."

"I know," she whispered, clearing her throat. "I was waiting for you, that's all," she added, a little louder.

He put the glass on the dresser and made his way to the bed, he sat on the edge and watched her, "You should sleep."

"I couldn't," she insisted. "Just come to bed, alright?"

"I can't. Got things to deal with," he muttered.

Margaret snorted, "Oh, please. Just come to bed, Tom. I'm fucking tired and I want you here," she tapped the empty side next to her. "I don't want to fight with you."

"Who've said we were going to fight?"

"Because this is what we do! We fight and we don't talk about it after, we wait days before talking to each other again," she mumbled. "Just—"

"Alright," he cut her off, rising in his feet as he took off his clothes and Margaret watched slowly. "How are the boys?" He then asked as he made his way to his side of the bed.

"Charles is angry at you," she replied. "Though, I'm not sure Elliot really gets why you're so absent."

"I'll talk to them tomorrow, eh?"

Margaret smiled softly, "Thank you."

Hesitantly, he brought his hand to her cheek, the pad of his thumb caressed her cheekbone. A feeling of calmness settled in both of them as Thomas wondered if this was, what he was searching for? Maybe drugs and alcohol weren't meant to help him get through the day, maybe she was supposed to. He still couldn't fathom the fact that she was really his, and he had taken it for granted—he knew he did. Margaret had been nothing but good to him, to Charlie, to his family which was now hers too. And he was glad about it.

"I—we miss you here," Margaret finally spoke after a few minutes of long silence.

Tommy noticed how she used 'we' instead of 'I', somehow it hurt. Hurt knowing that she probably didn't miss him as much as she would have done a few years ago.

"I miss you and the boys," he responded, looking at her in the eyes as he emphasised the word 'and'.

"Do you, really?" Her voice was hesitant, soft and almost shaky by the end of her question.

"I do."

Maggie chuckled and he realised he hadn't heard her chuckle in weeks, "The last time you've told me 'I do' was at our wedding," she commented, noticing he was staring at her. "It was a good day, wasn't it?"

"That it was," he replied, agreeing with her.

Thomas had been happy this day, he had smiled. And it was a real one. Not the fake ones he used to give to his family since Grace died, he had truly smiled the whole wedding. When he came to see her before the big moment, when Arthur talked about her in the Garrison before they headed to the Church, or when she walked down the aisle and waved at Charlie. He was happy.

He was overjoyed when Elliot was born, he had rushed to her side but had been kicked out of the room by Margaret, Aunt Polly, Lizzie and his own sister. Instead, Arthur offered him a drink and they smoked listening to Margaret's screams as they filled the house. Few minutes later or hours, he couldn't tell but he remembered vividly hearing the baby's cry.

Loud cries finally echoed through the house and Tommy let out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding, "You're a father, Tom!" Arthur cheered, clapping him on the back.

"Can I go see her?" He asked.

Arthur shrugged, "Wait before Polly comes down. You don't want to fuck with these women upstairs, Tom. Especially yours, she'll be mad at you for the pain she just endured."

"Right."

Thomas had Charles before, the whole thing was a blur. He had been happy to see his son for the first time, and kiss Grace on the forehead saying how brave she was.

"Thomas," Polly's voice was firm yet a little exhausted. "Congratulations. You have a boy."

"Can I go upstairs, Pol?"

The aunt motioned for him to follow her, and Thomas trailed behind confidently, "He is a beautiful boy," she commented, opening the door and stepping inside.

The room was colder and lighter than the living room downstairs. Lizzie was sitting in the corner of the room while smoking and having an animated conversation with Maggie, Ada was cleaning the baby carefully and cooing at it from times to times.

"Ah, there he is. The father," Ada cheered softly. "Hello, Tom. Here to see the baby?"

"The baby and me wife," he replied, clearing his throat as Ada hummed, turning on her heels to give Maggie the newborn. They all headed out, finally leaving them alone.

"Hey," Maggie smiled at him. "He's half asleep," she added.

Thomas removed his coat and put it on the closest chair before sitting back on the bed, "Tired, eh?" He asked, his hand reaching for the few pieces of hair on her face. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. "How about I hold him?"

"Alright," she whispered, giving him the baby. "For the name, I was thinking Elliot. Polly thinks it'd be perfect."

Thomas looked down, his eyes landed on his face for the first time. He looked exactly like Charlie when he was a baby, the blue eyes but then again, Polly had told him that babies were born with blue eyes, sometimes gray. He had Maggie's hair, though. Dark brown hair.

"Elliot is alright," he nodded. "Hello, my boy," he murmured, bringing his finger to caress his cheek.

Thomas was being pulled back to the harsh reality of what his life had become, Margaret kissed the inside of his hand, "What's going on in your head?"

"Just thinking," he answered. "About our wedding and when Elliot was born."

"Oh."

"I think you should sleep," he said to her, leaning down to press his lips against hers. Margaret moved her hands behind his neck, keeping him close. "Alright, Maggie you—"

"I should sleep, I know," she muttered against his lips. "I miss you."

There. It was all he needed to hear. The butterflies erupted in the pit of his stomach and he grinned at her, cupping her face softly as he brought it closer to kiss her again. The kiss was harsh, Margaret whimpered at the sudden contact but kissed him back.

"Maybe you shouldn't sleep," Thomas said, pulling away and she nibbled at her lower lip.

Maggie laughed loudly and he shut her up with a rapid peck, "Shouldn't I?" She teased.

"No, you shouldn't," he confirmed, trailing kisses down to her jaw and neck.

Blissful, calming and loving. That was how that night felt, until...until Margaret found herself thinking of the fight she had with Linda earlier in the day. Watching Thomas asleep, she wished she had never had these thoughts in the first place. She was weak and had let Linda get into her head—stupid, really.

With one last kiss on his jaw, she laid on her back and brought the sheets to her chest, "I love you, Tom. I hope you know it," she whispered quietly, turning on the other side.

————————————

AUTHORS NOTE, they drive me crazy!!!!! but i love them so much, so much...

i'm sorry for the long wait, i had lost inspiration for the book even though it is fully planned—but, i couldn't get the words right! BUT, thankfully s6 saved me and i finally feel inspired enough <3

what did you think of season 6 episode 1? i'm curious to know (if no one answers to this, i'll fight)