I know this is rather early to ask, but if I did about after the war, should I do it as a part two to this story or a second book? Thanks for the input x

Tommy

After Lucille had disappeared down the stairway with her father tagging closely behind, Tommy had retreated back to their base in the corner of the room. There was something off between the two of them, and that, Tommy could tell. He was silent for a while as he sat among the blankets and pillows, head leaned back, staring forward. Dawson waited a moment timidly. As he watched him, he dipped his brows in worry.

"What's up with the whole glarey eyes and frown?" The blond boy asked, nodding toward the entrance, which had been covered up.

"I wasn't glaring." Tommy muttered, his voice sounding huffy, like a ten year old who tried to plead innocence.

"You were." Dawson urged, smiling at the man's childish insistence. He added, "Her father definitely noticed it too."

"I don't know what you mean." Tommy said proudly, while shaking his head and lifting his chin.

"It wasn't hard to miss, mate." Dawson said, as he clapped a hand in his shoulder, giving it a light shake, earning a hiss of pain.

"Sorry." Dawson said, pulling his hand back sharply, receding back into silence.

"So what do you think of her?" He asked after a while of biting his lip, stick in the cycle of boredom.

"Lucille?" Tommy asked, unsure.

"Yes." Dawson nodded as he spoke.

Tommy turned back to stare at the wall, leaving a moment to pause, until he shrugged and said simply, "She's nice."

"Nice?" Dawson exclaimed, with a chuckle. Holding his head back in confusion.

"Kind." Tommy added, after noticing that he wanted more.

"That's all you have to say about her? She's nice." He exclaimed in exasperation, his eyes widening but lids slanting.

"Well what do you want me to say?" Tommy asked, his hands flipping out in another animated shrug, his voice increasing.

"Something better than that." He blurted out, his head shaking.

"Oh fuck off, what do you think of her then?" Tommy shouted back, lifting his head in motioning to the man.

Dawson lifted his chin with his brows, folding his arms across his chest. "I think she's very pretty. Don't you?"

"Of course." Tommy said, rolling his eyes dismissively, before asking, "What's this all about then?"

"Nothing." Dawson dismissed, but he couldn't hide the ghost of a smirk that was swiped on his face.

"Well it's clearly not nothing." He called out, failing to withhold a frustrated laugh.

"Just asking." Dawson shrugged his shoulders, his arms still crossed.

"Dawson-"

"You seem close." He rolled his eyes as he finally forced himself to answer. "Think I missed a lot while I was asleep."

"It's not like that." Tommy shook his head.

"Why? Because she's just nice?"

"She's married." Tommy finally yelled in frustration, and Dawson's eyes widened at the new information, remaining silent again for a few moments.

"She reminds you of your sister?"

Tommy nodded but rolled his eyes once again, noticing Dawson's eager and expecting expression that urged him to add on. "Her name is Ada. She was always caring. Stubborn, but thoughtful."

"Well that's adorable." Dawson teases, his posh voice tickling at Tommy's clenched jaw as he resisted yet another roll of his eyes.

"Fuck off." He muttered, shaking his head with a tired chuckle.

"What about you? Anyone at home waiting for you. She asked but you were asleep." Tommy asked, turning the focus away from himself.

Upon the mention of his own home life, Dawson flushed a bright red.

"I don't know." He said honestly.

"How don't you know?"

"Long story." He sighed, leaning back, thinking.

"I think we have time."

"She's married." Dawson exclaimed.

"Ah. Enough said." Tommy answered, laughing again, hiding it with a cough, but Dawson was still embarrassed.

"It would be, if she hadn't sent me this." He said.

Dawson pulled a crumpled piece of card from the inside pocket of his thick jacket. He unfolded it slowly, before handing the discoloured photo to Tommy hesitantly. His eyes widened as they came to rest in the image. The photo was of an older woman- much older than the both of them- undressed and twisted in a provocative position.

"Bloody hell." He yelled, looking from Dawson and back to the photograph.

"I know right." Dawson puffed out, taking the photo and giving it one last big glance before tucking it away, safely back into his pocket.

"She's- not what I expected." Tommy said and Dawson nodded.

"Fit, right?" He said, but Tommy could tell that he was fully serious, despite the shocking age difference between them.

"Well she's sent me photos like these three times. That's got to mean something?" Dawson explained, patting his chest. "But then, I had time to think, and I thought: what if it's because she thinks I won't come back. Her husband's not fighting, that's got to have something to do with it."

Tommy nodded along with him, trying to keep a straight face. But he broke out in a smile, aided with a laugh. He patted him on the back. "You're a good man, Dawson."

"Jack." Dawson patted Tommy's back in return, a grin on his lip. "Jack Dawson."

They nodded to each other. For the both of them, calling each other by their second names had been like second nature. They hadn't thought anything of it.

"Tommy Shelby."

The two soldiers were startled once more by the crashing of feet up the stairs. They looked to each other in panic, but Tommy could recognise the bobbled rhythm of their steps- it was Lucille's father.

It took him a while to reach the entrance to the loft, his fist finally making firm contact with the wooden barrier after a few minutes.

"Open it." He shouted, his voice all the confirmation that Tommy needed to move forward, pulling the panel up and revealing the old man's face below.

"I hate that I'm asking." He mumbled out, as he clambered into the loft.

Lucille's father stood in the middle of the loft. He held out a newspaper and asked, "Do you know German?"

"I know a bit." Dawson piped up, reaching out to take the paper. Tommy's head whipped to look at him in surprise. No wonder the posh accent, he thought.

"What?"

The title of the newspaper was written in foreboding font across the front, much larger than the usual, and followed by tiny print that would be hard to distinguish even if it had been in English. Liller Kriegszeitung it read: Lille war newspaper, Dawson had said. Below it was the date: February 27. Tommy couldn't even remember the turn of the year, not that it really mattered any longer.

"February 21st, German forces bombard front from Bois d'Avocourt to Étain and followed is an infantry attack." Read out, his voice stuttering over the words as he translated the blocky letters. "Bois d'Haumont: occupied."

"God damn it." Maron shouted, turning to push his hands against the wall in anger. Tommy and Dawson glanced to each other. "They've got us here."

"Read the rest. This was 6 days ago, there must be more." Tommy asked, and Dawson glanced back down to the paper.

"Brabant-sur-Meuse, Wavrille, and Samogneux are also in German hands." He paused, taking in a shaky breath as Tommy sighed.

"February 24th Beaumont, the Bois des Fosses, and the Bois des Caurières- all captured."