CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

               HE WOULDN'T LEAVE HER. . . not now, not ever. That was what Tommy decided as he watched her slumber, just four hours before she was due to be discharged. When the nurses came in at five and demanded that he leave, he point―blank refused, instead choosing to settle back in that uncomfortable little metal chair and pull a cigarette from his pocket.

"I'm not leaving my wife, nurse," Tommy had told them. "I said I'd stay with her in sickness and in health. . . now, I'm not religious like some, but I'm not going against that."

So they left him without another word, and he blew out his exhaustion through the bitter smoke as his gaze fell on the blonde―haired girl before him; her chest rose and fell in gentle, measured breaths with her heart beating in sync. Any remnants of the bullet that had pierced her skin were gone now, fading excruciatingly slowly into a scar of light pink tissue, just two inches to the left of her breast. Not the only reminder of their wedding day, but certainly the most prominent one. 

When she finally awoke, he was gone, wandering the halls of the hospital as he tried in vain to find the man who could register her leaving the building for good. Tommy wasn't one for asking, though, not in the current mood that he was in, and that was why he was forced to return to Felicity's room in angry defeat. . . anger that quickly dispersed at the sight of the now―conscious girl who was sitting up in bed, making quiet conversation with a gentle doctor who's snow―white hair was as neat as anything. 

Tommy stormed over with his usual confidence and brash actions, taking to the other side of his wife as he faced the older man with a cold stance. "Are yer here to say we can go, then?" He asked as he enveloped Felicity's hand in his palms, almost startling at how warm it was in contrast to his own. 

The doctor nodded. "Just as soon as you sign these papers."

Felicity smiled, taking the wad of forms and pen from him before Tommy could snatch them up first. "We'll only be a moment."

She signed them quickly before handing them to the raven―haired man beside her, letting him skim over the words with a look of impatience in his eyes that he was barely managing to keep at bay. Once finished, Tommy folded them over one another so to hand them back to the doctor, who took them with a tentative 'thank you'. 

"You're free to go now, Miss Woods."

"Shelby."

The doctor turned back to Tommy, startled. "Pardon?"

"It's Mrs Shelby," he snapped impatiently, although at the sight of Felicity's parted lips, Tommy did attempt to tone down his annoyance ever so slightly. "It says so on the registration we gave you when we admitted her."

The wispy―haired man frowned, flicked back through the papers, and frowned even deeper. "See, we have that down here," he said, his eyes meeting Tommy's once more. "But a Mr. . . John Woods, I think? He came in the day after and said there'd been a mistake, that she was a Woods after all." 

Tommy could have yelled, or shouted, or grabbed the man and let this fresh wave of annoyance and anger flood through his fingertips. He didn't, however, and instead he clenched and unclenched his fists as his breathing rattled. "I told you, on the day we arrived, that the only visitors for Felicity Shelby would be my fucking family," he said, not trying very hard to keep his breaths measured and calm. "Didn't I tell you that?"

"Yes. . . yes, you did, but. . ." 

"But what?" His tone dropped, suddenly quiet, dangerously quiet.

"Mr Woods said 'e was family, you see," the doctor explained in a hurry. 

"Not my family, though."

"No, not your family. I didn't know, though ― I swear I didn't."

Felicity glanced wildly between the two men, unsure of whether Tommy's anger was at a level that it was in danger of merging into full―on fury, or whether it was simply petty annoyance that he was perfectly capable of handling. Nevertheless, she reached for his arm, gently tapping it so to pull his distraction away from the shaken doctor and onto her instead. 

"We can go, can't we?" Felicity asked him. "This mix―up hasn't caused any problems, or anything, right?"

The older man nodded. "You're free to go. If there's been any issues, I'll sort them myself, don't you worry about it." 

⎯

             "Where are we going?" Felicity asked, her words still coated with sleep as she turned to face him. They'd been driving for just ten minutes and whilst their idle conversation had been small yet comfortable, the blonde wished she could rest for just a moment longer: four days confined to a rackety metal hospital bed was a time of exhaustion, and she had been bored out of her mind, but from the very moment that she had got out of it, fresh waves of yawns and leaden eyelids overtook her.

"Home."

"This isn't the way," she countered softly. 

Tommy caught her stare and smiled ever so slightly to himself as he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "No, it isn't," he agreed. "But there's something I have for you, alright?"

No matter how much she pleaded in retaliation to this, trying in vain to glean some information from the smug, smirking man before her, Tommy did not utter a single word more on the matter. They passed the smoke―stained buildings and weaved through winding, dirty streets before the towering factories and cowering terraced houses slowly morphed into trees and thick―growing hedges. A countryside that seemed to be miles away from the horrors of Small Heath, where livestock took over and the innocent pleas of lambs countered the shouts and screeches from the city. Emerald green fields as far as the eye could see, and whilst it was barely five o'clock and the sun was just beginning sink below the clouds, Felicity was still able to squint and catch a glimpse of the rolling, tumbling hills that cascaded over one another on the horizon. 

"Tommy?" With reluctance, she pulled her gaze from the sights and turned to him once more. "Where are we going?"

Still, he didn't tell her. He simply continued to drive ― through the country roads and swerving around the dips in the concrete, occasionally passing onto a less urban track as the road had either been forgotten about or never finished in the first place. Eventually, though, he began the ascent up one of those rolling hills on the horizon, and it was not long before he brought the vehicle to a stop and cut the engine's roar.

"Where are we? What are we doing?"

"Fewer questions, Mrs Shelby," he commented with a wicked smile. "You'll see in time, don't fret."

He led her around the front of the car, with him leaning on the front and her resting on him, his arms around her waist as the pair looked down and out upon the landscape falling before them.

"See all that?" Tommy asked, leaning down and pointing to the fields that fell beneath their feet. Birmingham lay just a little way off ― not far at all, really ― but it could've been on the very edge of the horizon for all Felicity cared, as they felt too far away from it all to even think about the horror―filled city.

"Now, that's not mine," he told her. "Not yet, maybe not for a long while. But that ain't what we're here for, isn't it?"

"Wh. . ."

"I've got plans," Tommy continued. 

At this, Felicity laughed. "Oh, you have, have you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Tommy confirmed, smiling at the musical sound of her gentle laughs. 

"And what might they be?"

Tommy pulled her further into his chest so that he might rest the tip of his chin on her head, and with one arm curled around her slender frame, the other pointed once more to a spot just below them, just a giant's step or two away from Small Heath.

"I'm going to buy a house," he said. 

"A house?"

"One of them pretty ones ― don't care how big. No, that's rubbish. . . of course, it's going to be big, with a garden and one of those big kitchens and a nursery. For a kid, you know? And we'll be away from everything I do, with miles between us and the betting shop and everything else. Just us."

The words washed over Felicity and a soft smile overtook her features as he spoke ― so sure of everything, with all the details mapped and planned out. He'd thought of it all, he really had, and Felicity could have cried at the thought of Tommy buying a house for the pair of them and coming home to their child, being the father they'd joked about, all of those months ago.

"You've got plans, alright," she eventually commented quietly, smiling all the while. 

"Plans for us, yeah."

Felicity turned to face him properly and kissed him gently, reigniting every spark she had ever felt because that was the way their love worked ― he had more power over her emotions than anyone else ever could, and she had more over his than anyone else ever could. Each day was a fight, a battle of stubborn wills that would last for an hour at most before one would get far too deprived of the other's touch and seal their argument with a kiss of apology. Heat in every contact, fire, adoration, love.

"It sounds perfect, Tommy. Perfect."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Perfect."

⎯

                When they got back, Tommy apologetically stole away to go and sort out some sort of arrangement or business proposal or something with Arthur ― Felicity didn't care to find out, because she was too tired to do much else in regards to the business right now ―, and so the blonde was left to her own devices for an hour or so. In her case, however, her own devices meant pushing aside her exhaustion and rushing to the telephone that sat in the parlour, away from everyone because most of the family had either gone to the Garrison or were out, somewhere in the streets of Small Heath, like Tommy most likely was.

She dialled the number for the Woods household, her fingertip catching in the small ring of the dialler as she clutched the telephone tightly in her hand. 

"Henry Woods, Woods Company Limited. Fuck off and call the secretary, we don't have time."

"Harry! Wait!" Felicity clamoured down the phone, praying to God he would not end the call and hang up. . . not yet, anyway. She had too much fire and brimstone burning inside her for him to hang up.

There was a pause as her older brother's thoughts no doubt clicked the remembrance that this was his littlest sibling on the other end of the phone, the baby sister that had rushed from home without another word. "Felicity?"

"Get Dad on the phone, now."

"He's not―"

"Do it, goddamnit!"

She had never been that brash and loud when she was living with them, but then again, she hadn't been a lot of things. Now, she hardly cared how she came across to her siblings and she definitely didn't care how she came across to her father. The flicker of fear that she had held for her father had vanished after last week's debacle. The pink scar tissue had made sure to remind her of that.

"Felicity," John Woods' voice soon cracked over the line as he grabbed the telephone from his son's grip and angrily told him to be on his way before turning his attention to his daughter. "What have I done for this call? We're finished, aren't we? We agreed to be on our way once this was all over."

"I know we did," Felicity stated, her voice beginning to shake with all of the enragement that she had kept hidden below the surface for so long. "But you didn't go on your way after you fucking shot me, did you? You went to the hospital, broke your word."

"Now, I didn't break it. . ."

The girl ground her teeth, hard. "Sure, lying about a name isn't much, I suppose," she continued after a moment. "But it wasn't just that. You weren't finished, even if I was."

"I didn't―"

"Fucking Tommy and his business over wasn't enough for you? You had to ruin every other good thing, didn't you?"

John Woods laughed at this ― a proper laugh, as though he genuinely found his words hilarious. "You weren't a good thing, Felicity, believe me."

"I'm good enough."

"Is that what he'll think when the truth comes out? When he realises all the lies you told straight to his Gypsy face?"

"It was either that or have him dead a thousand times over," she argued, although she knew he was right. The truth would shatter everything in one way or another.

After ten minutes of plaintive arguing, insults and angry accusations, Felicity eventually slammed the phone back on its hold and leant back against the wall, her head hitting the cool wood of the cupboard. Her chest rose and fell and she watched it for a moment. . . until, that is, the door slammed open and the cold rush of air from outside filled the space.

"He's fucked me over," Tommy panted, clenching his fists so that his fingernails bit into his palm as the anger surged through his veins and pulsed with bubbling, burning fury. "Woods has bloody fucked me over."

AUTHOR'S NOTE!

thank you to every single one of you who are still reading! i hope you liked this chapter, i'm so sorry for any uh ~ pain ~ i accidentally put anyone through. maybe. idk it's all part of the experience, i swear (don't sue me, i don't have any money)

i love you all so much!