CHAPTER 30

LOVE BORN FROM WAR

❝ There was nowhere I could go that wouldn't be you. ❞

For the most part of his life, if someone asked Thomas Shelby what happiness was, they would either receive an empty thousand-yard glare, a veiled threat or no answer at all. But if someone asked him that same question now, he would say it was this: waking up with the winter sun gently kissing his eyelids and the shape of home tangled in his arms, a contented smile on her face even as she slept.

Unlike with his thoughts, that were clear and razor-sharp, Thomas often had a hard time discerning his feelings, but not this morning: he felt ablaze, like something restless and searing was about to burst from his chest. It was joy, violent and unexpected and long-forgotten, and yet refreshing and welcomed and thoroughly needed. It was joy, simple and real and yet tainted, for Thomas did not know for how long he could have it, for how long he could keep this dream in his arms.

"You've been staring at me, haven't you?" Rose murmured in the quiet daylight, face half-hidden in the pillows as a soft breeze billowed the curtains behind her. She looked ethereal, too diaphanous and unreachable for him to grasp, and yet he had one arm around her waist and she was pressed up against his chest, head resting over his frantic heart, and he had her. For how long? The question kept hammering around in his mind, like a howitzer that would never cease, raging war inside him even after she answered. She touched the skin between his brows with a finger, and that was enough to bring him back to the present, to her. "So why the frown?"

He smiled – something so hard to do with others, so easy with her. So impossible to give the world, so necessary to give to her. As soon as his frown disappeared, Rose beamed too, the honey-gold light from outside paling in comparison to her.

"I was thinking until when I would have you like this," he rasped out, heart pounding so loud Rose put a hand over his chest to calm it. It was no use lying or hiding his feelings, not with her. He always felt too exposed with her, like his emotions and thoughts were inked on his skin like another tattoo, and Rose could as easily kiss them as scratch them to raw flesh.

"What do you mean?" Now the frown was on Rose's face, and Thomas brought her even closer to him to press a kiss over it. It smoothed away instantly. "You said you'd still want me in the morning."

A pang crossed his heart, split it into million pieces. He could hear the scars in her voice, the wounds that were now closed but still needed to fade. More than ever, he wished he could take away all the pain from her past, erase Steaphan from her life, but just like Grace to him, he knew that was a ghost Rose would always have to battle with.

"Fuck, of course I do, Rose, I want you always. But you..." He sighed. He'd have to say it, eventually. All of this was a miracle. The fact Rose was here, that she'd come back to him. That she hadn't left yet. Thomas had thought if he was lucky, he might have one night. This morning was already borrowed time, and he dreaded the moment when it would run out. "Was it enough? The sex, I mean? Was it enough to make you stay?"

Rose stared at him for a long time. Then she turned her face away, buried it into the pillow and sobbed, chest heaving and shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

It took Thomas too long to realize she was laughing. When she snapped her head back to him her eyes were a furious green, but she had wrinkles around them that could only have been born out of happiness.

"So that's why you fucked me like that last night." She narrowed her eyes at him, her tone more teasing than accusing. "You were afraid that if I didn't like it or found you wanting, I would not have any reason to stay at all."

Thomas wetted his lips with his tongue, trying to delay the inevitable truth. "Love, I'll fuck you like that every time, you just gotta beg for it. And you beg so nicely, don't ya?"

His hand came to wrap around her throat, lightly; a reminiscence of last night that made him shiver in anticipation. But Rose slapped his hand away, harshly. He sighed; of course she wasn't letting him get away with this.

"You should know by now changing the subject and using diversion techniques doesn't work with me, Mr. Shelby." She leaned away from him, studying his face, gaze serious and baffled. "You really thought your cock might be the only reason for me to stay?"

The sun was not resting atop his eyelids anymore. He felt it on his neck now, on his cheeks. This was embarrassing and humiliating and he'd rather be kissing that conceited smirk on her face away.

"I thought that could become one of the reasons, yes." He rolled his eyes when she burst out laughing a second time, his ego bruised. "Can you blame me? I ran out of ideas. Yeah, I admit, I was fookin' desperate. There, I said it."

He sounded annoyed, but he wasn't really. He was happy in a way he had only been before the war.

"Thomas Shelby." When everyone else said his name, it was a breath of fear, or a foolish warning, or their last words. When Rose said it, it was a bite of defiance and a prayer in awe, it was visceral and raw as if she was the only one that said his name the way it was meant to be said, as if she was the only one who knew the Tommy that existed without surnames, without labels, without masks. She knew him as if she was carved deep in his bones, like a knife he'd willingly plunged between his ribs. "Don't tell me all this time you really thought I'd leave? I thought I'd made myself clear, when I ran to you and told you I loved you. If I told you that, it means I'll stay. My fatal flaw is that I cannot stay away from the people I love."

She shook her head, as if still in disbelief of him, and golden locks fell over her eyes, his hand darting out to tuck them behind her ear immediately. It was dangerous, this hope. It could end wars, but it could also start them.

"What are you saying, Rose?" His voice was very serious, everything in him incredibly still but aching to run.

"I'm saying I'm staying, Thomas. In all honesty, I never..." She bit her lip, cheeks suddenly rose-tinted, as if caught in the act. "I was never intending to leave, not truly. France is... a good dream, but also a bad memory, if it makes sense? It's my past, I mean. I don't see my future there, which is why I recently got new horses and bought land to build a new absinthe factory and made plans to rebuild my café. I thought maybe one of those would give it away? Or were you so lost in your plan you didn't see any of that?"

"I didn't, really." A major lapse in judgement, but could he be blamed? Rose staying or not had felt as important as any big defining moment in his life, so he had acted out of impulse, out of pure instinct, as if his very survival was on the line. Now nothing was still in him anymore, and if he hadn't forced it to quietness his voice would have shaken. His heart was in utter disarray, his thoughts haywire. I'm staying, I'm staying, I'm staying. Some of the best words he had ever heard. He felt like he could breathe for the first time in a long time, and so he did. He let out a deep, relieved sigh, and brought Rose closer to him until there was no space between them, until she could feel the tremors raking through his body. He hadn't fully realized how much he was coiled up in himself, how much he was fearing her absence, until he no longer had to. "Fuck. You're staying. You're really staying."

"Of course I am. I still need to keep giving Charlie violin lessons, right?" He felt her grin against his chest, and the joy returned back to him, flooding his body with the force of a tsunami and the pureness of the light spilling onto his bedroom through the slightly ajar windows. He still could not quite believe it, because the best things in his life were always taken away from him first. And God, if he needed this one to last. "I need to watch him grow up into a great violinist, and make sure he never feels the need to play Tchaikovsky, because he was not made for the sad songs."

The thought that Rose still wanted to teach Charles play when she herself couldn't, when it would probably hurt her hearing the sound of a violin that wasn't hers, warmed and broke Thomas' heart at the same time.

"That sounds like a great plan. He'd love that." He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her jaw. "I'd love that." He kissed her mouth then, tender until she bit his bottom lip and turned it into one of those French kisses that did not kill him but drove him mad with want. The pit of his stomach stirred, recalling the night before all too well. The taste of her, how she'd felt around him, her needy moans falling over his ears. He hadn't truly known what la petite mort was until her – he already couldn't wait to die and be reborn again, as long as it was between her thighs, with her nails dragging down his back and her pretty mouth open just for him.

Last night had felt like a dream. But this morning was the beginning of his life with her, of minutes that stretched into hours and a future where he could suffer the night and still chase the stars.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel like you weren't enough, Thomas," Rose said when they broke apart, both of them trying to catch their breath. "You are. You're more than enough, actually, and I want you, and I want to be part of your life, and Charlie's, and—"

He shut her up with another kiss, not because he didn't want to listen to her but because he was afraid of what that would do to his heart. He hadn't used it in so long, he needed to be careful with it – and when she said things like this, it just made him want to kiss her so he could give her her words back.

"Thomas..." Rose murmured, a breathy whine that made all blood in his body rush south. He wanted her all the time, but when she was like this, vulnerable and needy, it drove him absolutely fucking insane. He slid his hungry mouth from her lips to her neck, mouthing at her pulse point as if to swallow her heartbeats, to have them all for him, but Rose stopped him before he could go any further, a hand planted firmly on his chest as she leaned back.

"You threw the New Year's party for me, didn't you?" She asked, that proud, self-satisfied smirk of a leader who knows they're right, of a woman who knows she has every bit of the man next to her wrapped around her sly finger. "You needed an excuse to think of ways to make me stay, so you invited me to the party to buy time and think of some."

"Yeah. I faced the whole wrath of my family for ya. Can't get a bigger love proof than that, love."

Face half-squished against his pillow, Rose stared at him. He stared back, letting her trail her fingers along his jaw. His heart winced, the knife digging deeper. God, he loved her. He loved her soft words and her sharp edges, loved her lovely petals just as much as her jagged thorns.

Then she clasped his jaw and brought their mouths together again, electricity jolting through him with each swipe of her tongue over his.

"Putain, je t'aime," she whispered between kisses, some soft, some rough, all wonderful. This was worse than whiskey or cigarettes; he was addicted to her the most. He would never be able to survive withdrawal.

He smiled against her crimson mouth. So murderous to others, so good to him. Ironic that these lips that killed so easily made him feel the most alive. He grabbed her hands in his, kissed her knuckles.

"I love you too, Rose."

She traced a finger down his face, from his temple to his chin, along his cheekbone. The touch felt reverent, as if she'd finally found something worth believing in. Thomas knew the feeling. Staring at her, naked between his silk sheets with those gold-dusted curls falling over her vibrant-green eyes, he knew it too well.

Then she shuddered and said, "You know, most people think you can't have one great true love after another."

His answer was immediate, innate. "Well, most people never fookin' felt the way we do."

And it was only in respect of Charlie that he didn't mention he was fairly certain he'd only had one great true love in his life, and that he was holding her in his arms right now.

Well, because of that and because Rose grinned and said, "I want you to fuck me like last night. Is that enough begging or do you want me to get on my knees again?"

Thomas felt all the breath leaving him that very instant. Rose was so much more than a lover, she was a force of nature, and he was utterly screwed, because all she had to do was say the words and he'd do anything she asked.

"Fuck," he said, feeling himself throbbing at the mere thought of it. He breathed in and out; he couldn't give in that quickly. "You know I'd never say no to you getting on your knees for me, but right now I'm certain I'll combust if I don't get inside you right this instant."

She beamed. He said exactly what she wanted to hear, but he didn't even have time to be mad she won once more, because then Rose crawled on top of him, straddling him, her smile devilish and all-knowing.

"You like me on top, don't you?"

Thomas liked it too much to ever admit it aloud; he knew his body would betray him and show it for him anyway.

"I like you in all ways, Rose," he said, so earnest she went quiet, cheeks as red as rosebuds. He smirked. So he could still get the upper hand, as long as he was honest enough. "Though you do look especially gorgeous when you're bouncing on me cock."

"You're the devil," she complained, swollen lips forming the prettiest pout. He was starting to regret rejecting her offer, because fucking hell, he'd kill to feel those lovely lips stretch wide around his length again.

"Yes," he said just as he pulled her to him by the back of her thighs and made her sink down on his cock. Rose gasped, planting her hands on his chest for leverage, her fingers spreading over his tattoos. If there was anything better than heaven it was this: fire licking at his insides, his heart grown two sizes, too big for his chest, Rose above him like a sky he could reach. She felt so good around him, so warm and wet, her walls clamping his cock so tightly it was like she never wanted to let him go. Thomas would not admit how much that inflated his ego, but he felt himself grow bigger either way. "And you're my angel, and I would raise hell and defy any god for you."

Thomas had long stopped believing in God, but he was certain that if God had a name, it was hers.

"Well, right now, I just want you to fuck me so good I will never think about another man but you." It was a challenge, and Rose underlined it by palming his pecs and feeling up every muscle in his arms, taking her time with his biceps as she trailed down each vein, from shoulder to hand. Then she did the same with her mouth, sweet and slow and beyond maddening, and Thomas groaned and twitched inside her, tightening his grip on her hips as he struggled to hold himself back, waiting for what more she would do.

Then Rose said, "Fuck me so hard I'll feel you for days after."

For a moment there was not a single thought in Thomas' head but Rose, Rose, Rose, the world around him spinning as he became intoxicated from it, from the need to have her, from the want to please her.

"Don't worry, pretty." He slid a hand over her stomach, her breasts, up to her throat. Rose bit her lower lip and instantly bared her neck to him, finally allowing him to wrap his hand around it like they'd both been craving. He was already throbbing inside her, and she was doing nothing but warm him. "I'm going to ruin everyone else for you too. I'll fuck you so hard you'll be unable to say my name without thinking of this moment and how good I made you feel."

***

Later that day, after fetching Charlie from Ada's house and enduring her teasing insinuations, they went to the Salvage's property because Thomas wanted to see Rose's new horses, and Charlie, as soon as he saw Rose, demanded to spend the entire day with her.

And despite being feared gang leaders, neither Thomas nor Rose could say no to his big sparkling eyes and pleading pout.

So here they were, at her stables, Rose holding Charlie by the hand and introducing him to the new ponies while Thomas stood close to the horses. Judging by his calculating gaze as he inspected each one, one could think he was there to judge Rose's ability to choose the best horses and make the most profit and use out of them, but Rose knew the truth: he was evaluating whether or not the previous owners had treated them right, and what he could do to help ease any traumas they might have.

He stood staring at Bête Noire for a long time, the black stallion flicking his ears and flaring his nostrils at him, his tail down and his muzzle and eyes tensed in a clear sign of wariness and mistrust.

When Thomas took a step forward, the horse stomped loudly on the ground, startling Charlie who ran away and hid behind Rose. Most people would back off by then, afraid the imponent Friesian would bite or kick them, but Thomas held out his hand to allow the horse to sniff him, and slowly, Bête Noire trotted towards him. He sniffed Thomas for a long time, his head lowering and ears hanging to the side as he got used to Thomas and gradually relaxed.

Behind Rose, Charlie giggled, delighted.

"Horse charmer!" He said, in a minute voice so as to not scare the animals. He gave up on peeking at his father and the charmed horse through Rose's legs and stumbled a little towards them, his mouth wide open as he eyed them with awe. Seeing him admiring his dad, seeing Thomas do the impossible and befriend a horse that barely trusted anyone, Rose's heart contracted, then swelled so much it could not possibly fit in her chest.

Oblivious to their gazes, Thomas started stroking the stallion's muzzle to calm him. Once he got used to his touch, Thomas stroked his night-black coat with deft pressure and whispered to him in Romani, soothing the horse in a way Rose hadn't seen before.

"You never give up on causes everyone else deems lost, do ya?" Thomas asked at last, turning his head to her but still massaging the horse in that therapeutic way. It was obvious he wasn't just talking about Bête Noire. "Thank you for taking him out of there."

Rose hadn't even needed to talk about the horse's traumatic past; Thomas had known right away. Rose wondered if he'd done the same with her, if he'd taken one good look at her and decided: I don't like her scars so I'm going to try and soothe them some way.

And he had, even if he hadn't been aware of it. Rose knew love could only do so much – it could not heal every scar, but it helped the wound feel less deep.

"He deserved a good life," she said, a weight in her voice as she picked Charlie up so he could pat Bête Noire too. The horse leaned into his touch instinctively, and Charlie laughed, cheeks round and rosy, a healthy glow making him as warm as the sun, ripping a rare grin from Thomas. Rose's heart stung again, but it was a good kind of ache. "And I'm not sure we do too, but I want to give it to you either way."

"You already have," Thomas said in that simple, finite way he used when he stated facts or poured out an emotion that was certain and immutable. Rose envied that ability of him, to be so brutally honest. And it drove her insane when he used it on her, because it left her not knowing how to react, and that never happened to her. But Thomas had a way to take the ground from her feet and give her the sky instead. "And if I can give you a life that's better than good, I will."

Taking advantage of Charlie being distracted, Rose gently kissed Thomas, a modest peck on the mouth. Then Thomas parted his lips, already waiting for her tongue to sneak in, and the kiss turned heated, and not at all appropriate for the situation, but neither of them stopped, so tangled in each other it was as if there was a rope tying them together, weaving through each other's veins to the point where their cells melded together and his heart beat inside her.

Then Charlie abruptly turned around and caught them in the act, one of Thomas' arms holding her waist, his hand caressing her cheek, Rose's fists clutching Thomas' shirt, bringing him impossibly closer.

"Dada! Rosie! Ugh, my poor eyes!" Charlie shrieked and made a dramatic gesture of covering his eyes with his hands, swiveling around to accentuate his disgust. Rose chuckled as Thomas broke away from her and tried smoothing down his shirt, peaked cap askew on his head, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath. He turned to his son then, crouching and ruffling his fine-caramel hair.

"Charlie, be a good boy and go pick a pony to ride, yeah?"

"No, I wanna go with Rosie!" Charlie crossed his arms and stomped his little boots on the ground. "I don't care if... if you're canoodling behind my back, you will not take her away from me!"

"You're right, I will not." Thomas patted his head gently, and Charlie leaned into the touch, despite himself. He seemed deprived of it, as if Thomas didn't do it often enough. Rose took a mental note to remind him of that. "But you can't go with Rose, because Rose is going to ride this big boy and he's not a suitable horse for children." Thomas straightened up then, lightly scratching Bête Noire's head, who neighed mildly at him.

"But he likes me! And I'll be with Rose, so I'll be fine!" Charlie pouted, kicking a pebble away, a telltale sign he was about to throw a tantrum. Father and son stood looking at each other for a while, neither of them willing to back down, so Rose sighed and mounted the stallion swiftly.

"It's alright, Thomas." She gave him a firm nod and extended her arms for Charlie, who instantly made grabby hands at her. "Come here, mon chouchou."

As if her smile was magic and her words law, Charlie's frown disappeared and he clapped as Thomas picked him up and carefully placed him in front of Rose, smiling when she held on tightly to him. Thomas knew Rose would never let any harm come Charlie's way, so if she deemed it safe, it was safe.

"What's that mean? Chouchou?" Charlie asked, looking over his shoulder at her with those baby blue eyes that always softened her.

"Cabbage," Thomas deadpanned, still not over having lost to his son's sulking. "A little one, at that."

"What?" Charlie squealed, raising his chubby fists. "No, it doesn't! You might, but Rosie wouldn't call me that!"

"It's a term of endearment." Rose chuckled as Charlie stuck his tongue out at Thomas as if to say 'see, I told ya'. "It means my darling, my blue-eyed boy, my favorite. It means I love you."

She placed a soft kiss on the crown of Charlie's head, who beamed and snuggled closer to her. He smelled of what her sisters smelled when they were kids: baby powder and innocence and sugar-coated candies, and yet again Rose felt the overwhelming need to protect him from everything bad in the world, to do whatever it took to keep that happy grin on his face always.

"You sure?" Thomas asked, a hand on her calf as he gestured towards Charlie.

"Yes, Noire likes him. Besides, it'll be good training. If Charlie can handle his bad temper, then he can handle yours."

Thomas snorted but took a step back and headed towards the chestnut mare he had a soft spot for. Before he reached her, however, he looked back, a speck of concern darkening his ocean eyes.

"Are you sure you can ride? You aren't... too sore or anything?" He had the nerve to look almost regretful, as if he hadn't thoroughly enjoyed each second he fucked into her, so hard they'd almost broken the bed.

Rose huffed and squinted at him, covering Charlie's ears with her hands before she hissed, "Not you doubting my ability to ride after what I did to you last night and this morning. Seems like you need to be reminded again tonight."

That shut Thomas up. Laughing freely, Rose threw her head back and gave Bête Noire a light squeeze with her legs to make him trot into the woods, leaving a dumbfounded Thomas behind before he got out of his trance and chased after them.

***

"You're frowning again." Thomas' hoarse whisper woke her from her jumbled thoughts. They were sitting at the rocks by the creek deep into the woods, and Rose was dozing off lulled by the quiet rustle of the breeze against mossy-green leaves, the munching of the horses on the tall, dewy grass and Charlie's little giggles as he chased after birds and rabbits. The water was so calm it barely rippled, but the late afternoon sun shimmered down on the surface so brightly Rose had to look away. Everything was sun-soaked and gold-dappled, and it smelled of rain to come. She hadn't felt peace like this in a long time; it reminded her of her serene days in Amiens, before the war, when she and her sisters spent days climbing cherry trees and chasing the boys through cornfields. "Is it me?"

Rose heard the question in his voice – are you having doubts about us, about me? Rose sighed, bit her lower lip. She didn't know what else to say or do to show him how much he meant to her, how serious she was when she said she'd stay, but she had to try.

"No, I was just thinking... thank you for waiting for me and for being patient. Most men would have moved on."

Thomas quirked a brow at her, at once fond and devastating. "I thought we'd established by now I'm not most men."

"Yes, yes, I know," she chuckled. Just like that, the ash-grey cloud passing over her mind was gone. Thomas was like this late sun; he didn't always appear, and he didn't always warm, but just a glimpse of him was enough to give her solace. "But really, I'm sorry it took me so long to..."

She trailed off then, because Thomas grabbed her hand and held it firmly in his, telling her through that touch everything neither of them could put into words. She let out a heavy sigh of relief. He understood. Of course he did.

"Rose, I know. It doesn't matter. Us, here, now. That's all that matters."

"No, but I..." She shook her head, running the pads of her fingers over Thomas' knuckles, her soft touch soothing his chapped skin. They looked over at the riverbank at the same time, making sure Charlie was safely playing away from it. "I was always leaving you, always backing away, and I knew I would make you suffer every time I pushed you away, yet I did it anyway. You deserved better than the way I treated you."

"Rose, I get why you did it. You weren't ready, but I was hoping one day you'd be, so I waited, and it paid off. I have you now, don't I?" Unlike most of Thomas' questions, this wasn't rhetorical. The tinge of uncertainty and hope in his tone made him look so much younger, like a schoolboy stumbling his way through his first love.

"Yes, Thomas." She put a warm hand over his cheek, heart painfully skipping a beat when Thomas moved his head so he could kiss her palm. It was such a testament of his love, that this violent, restless man who was so impatient with the world treated her with so much care. "You have me."

"Good, because you have me too." Thomas smiled, true and pure and free, and tangled a hand in her hair to pull her closer and kiss her until the world dissolved around them, the only thing real the warm press of his mouth against hers, the heat of his body clinging to hers and his musky scent making her all light and dizzy. Her heart was beating so hard against her ribcage it was as if it wanted to break free and bore home inside him instead. Maybe it already had. Maybe Rose was carved so deep into Thomas' bones, wrapped so tightly over his muscles and curled so much into his veins their souls could no longer be separated, for they had started as one, lived two miserable lives apart from each other, and were now complete again, back to their original state. Like an ouroboros – a snake eating its own tail, symbolizing infinity.

Without breaking the kiss, Rose put a hand over his heart and drew the symbol right over his frantic heartbeat.

With a hushed gasp, Thomas pulled apart from her, figuring it out instantly.

"I'd ask one of me men who does really good tattoos, but hell if I let him see you like that, so do you know any lady who can get the job done?"

Rose felt a thrilling chill course through her spine, not only because of the rough edge of possessiveness on Thomas' voice but mainly at the thought of having the same tattoo as him: they both knew the weight it entailed, but if tattoos really were the scars we chose, then Rose was more than glad to choose this one and share it with Thomas. He was all over her heart already – it was only fair he'd have a permanent spot there.

"I know just the right lady." Rose nodded, immediately thinking of Sienna and her deft hands.

"You don't mind she'll be touching me chest?" Thomas teased, a taunting hand moving from her neck to her collarbone and down below. Rose caught his wandering hand in hers before he could grope any further.

"You're not her type." Rose held up both their hands when Thomas opened his mouth to protest. "And before you say something idiotic like 'I'm everyone's type', Sienna likes women, so no, Thomas Shelby, you're not her type at all."

Thomas chortled, some bird deep in the forest chirping along with him. "We have another problem, then. What if you're her type?"

"She's not into gang leaders." Rose chuckled upon Thomas' tensed jaw, as if he was genuinely scared of the opposition and would now have to realign his protectiveness over Rose to both men and women. "She prefers trade union leaders, especially if they're communists."

Thomas' eyes almost bulged out of his face. "Jessie Eden?"

"Yeah. Apparently Jessie asked her to make some uniforms for the Party, and I saw them talking at Sienna's boutique, and it was the kind of talking where they were saying everything but what they wanted to say. Like us, back in that Ritz room ages ago. It felt like that's where they were headed, to where we are now, but they were just dipping their toes in, very carefully."

"Well, I hope their dive is smoother than ours."

Rose smiled. She had known Thomas would be like her, instantly accepting it as the normal, beautiful thing it was, but it was always nice to have the confirmation handed so simply to her.

"Me too. And yes I admit, the fact she won't have any interest in you while seeing you shirtless is a nice bonus." Rose giggled, and Thomas leaned in to swallow the sound, as if he loved it so much he wanted to keep it in him. "Guess I'll have a literal viper in my bosom now."

Thomas laughed and pulled her to him to kiss her again, but before their lips touched, Charlie appeared from behind the curved willow they were under, startling them both.

"Tommy and Rosie sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, nose scrunched in disgust. Thomas' mouth hung open. Rose bit her lip not to burst out laughing. "First comes love, then comes marriage, but before anything else comes Charlie, the little cabbage!"

He huffed then, his little fists pounding on Thomas' back and clutching onto his jacket to pull him away from Rose so he could have enough space and sit between them. Gently, Rose wiped away the grass blades and pine needles on his coat and let him rest his head on her shoulder.

"I come first, right?" Charlie looked between them, arms crossed tightly over his chest as if to protect his heart from the answer.

"Of course," Thomas and Rose said at the same time, both placing a soft kiss on the top of Charlie's head. Charlie cheered up immediately, allowing Thomas to place him onto his lap.

"That old bloke really was right when he said that thing about the river and the man," Charlie mumbled, throwing small pebbles into the creek as he gazed into it absentmindedly. Thomas narrowed his eyes, but Rose got it.

"No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man?"

"Yeah, that!" Charlie nodded. Rose was amazed that not only he had heard her say this to Thomas back then, he had listened well enough to remember it. Pride swelled in her heart: both father and son listened to her so well. She had had so many men try to make her silent, or render her voice useless, or defy her orders and undermine her very existence, and here they were, taking her words as if they were sacred, taking her presence like a universal truth. "It's true, because my dada is changed. You changed him, Rosie. I think you changed me a little too. The boo-boo here that started when me momma left," he put his little palm over his heart then, and Rose's heart clenched in tandem, "doesn't hurt as much."

Rose felt a rush of tears prickling her eyes, and she picked Charlie up from Thomas' lap and buried her face into his hair to hide the sobs. Holding him like this was her way of telling him: I'm not your mother, but I love you like you're my son.

"Rosie, don't cry," Charlie pled in a very small voice, as if his throat was clogged up too. "You'll make me sad. You'll make dada cry too."

"Yeah?" Rose lifted her head, locked her gaze on Thomas over Charlie's head. He was looking at her like one looks at the sun: like it hurt him to, but he could not bring himself to look away. "Has your dad ever cried because of me?"

"Not outside, no." Charlie shook his head, stumbling a little so he could get to Thomas and hold his hand without ever letting go of Rose's. Silently, Thomas reached for her other hand, and she took it. All three of them, connected – an ouroboros of love, a home that was safe and sound. "But inside, yes. He cried as much as this river for you."

He gestured towards the creek and beyond, where it flowed into a deep, wide river. Rose sobbed harder. Violin tears. Oh, she knew those. They hurt the most, for they came from the depths of the soul. The fact Thomas had felt that way about her, and that Charlie had picked up on it – it made her itch for her violin, so she could put all that emotion into notes, so she could give them a song that was just theirs, some melody that comforted and told them I'm here, and you'll never have to shed tears for me again.

But she could no longer do that. Her arm felt number than ever.

"You cried for him too, didn't you?" Charlie asked, eyes big and curious. Thomas' lips were parted, as if he was holding his breath waiting for her answer. "How much?"

Rose's smile was woe and joy, entwined as one. "An ocean."

Thomas squeezed her hand, tightening his fingers around hers. He was such a storm, this man. But most of all he was her solace, her shelter.

"Speaking of ocean!" Charlie clapped his hands, his smile blinding. Neither Thomas nor Rose could look away, for Charlie was everything good in this world, keeping them both warm even against the worst of winter. "Remember when we went to the beach and wished upon dandelions? Do you know what I wished for?"

Rose's vision was blurred, and Thomas and Charlie both reached a hand out to catch a rogue tear slipping down her cheek. "Tell me."

"I wished for me dada to be happy and for me Rosie to spend more time with us, and now I have both and I'm really happy." Pouting, Charlie used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe down more of Rose's tears. Rose had the vague notion it should be the other way around and yet here was this precious boy, comforting her. Comforting them both, if the look on Thomas' face was any indication. "I don't want this to end."

Rose hugged him tighter. "It won't. If it's up to me, it won't."

"If it's up to us," Thomas amended, in that quiet voice one uses when the lump in their throat is too big to speak over it, for it's full of unshed tears. "Charlie, some days ago Frances asked you what your favorite color was, didn't she? What did ya say?"

"Green!" Charlie shouted gleefully, grabbing onto a lush-green leaf and placing it at the level of Rose's gaze. "Like Rosie's eyes!"

"Exactly. And how do we like Rose's eyes best?"

"Shining, but without tears," Charlie said with all the certainty and no hesitation, as if they'd spoken about this before. Thomas nodded, patting his head with a satisfied look, until Charlie turned to him with an accusatory glance. "So don't ever make her cry, dada."

"I'll try not to." He pulled Charlie to him, embracing him tightly. "I'll try not to make you cry either, eh?"

Charlie beamed, all the winter sun in that smile, then got up and darted off across the grass. They stayed watching him for a long time, their fingertips touching on the smooth surface of the rock. Rose cheered when Charlie successfully encased a goldfinch in his hands. He stroked its colorful feathers a few times before running towards the creek and opening his hands up, letting the bird take off and soar above the surface. That was freedom at its rawest form. She wanted Charlie to be like that always.

Thomas silently smoothed down the crease between her brows.

"I'm worried about the future," Rose confessed. She took a lungful of air, committing the woody-pine scent of the forest and the still-serene atmosphere to memory. In times of turmoil, she knew she'd need this, the remembrance of this simple peace.

Beside her, Thomas was very still. "Ours?"

"No, not ours. I think ours is immutable." She smiled at him, but her next words dimmed the usually glorious effect of it. "But the world's. Europe is restless. Germany... there's something brewing there, something awful. I fear another war will soon break out. I fear..." She could not bring herself to say it, gazing at Charlie and his untainted happiness. God, let it be like this always.

"I will not let it," Thomas said, in that resolute tone that no one, not even fate or nature or time could go against. "Whatever happens, whatever I must do, I will not let Charles go through what we did."

Rose swallowed, the lump in her throat weighing her shoulders down. "And if he volunteers?"

"He won't have the chance to. At the first rumor of war I will send him off to whatever place war can't reach, where armies and enlisting aren't an option. I rather he stays away but safe than having him near and see him broken down like us."

Because Thomas looked at his son like his world would end if he lost him, and because Rose knew hers would too, she said, "Me too. I'll help you."

Even if in the future Charlie ended up wanting to enlist and resenting them for not allowing him, that was still better than him losing that bright smile in some hideous conflict. And because Charlie had been exposed from early to the ugly scars war caused, Rose had a feeling he'd understand.

"I'm also afraid for France," she admitted, her heart tightening painfully at the thought of her beautiful home once again wrecked by the malice of men and the horrors of battle. "If there's another war, it's my country that's going to suffer. It always is."

With just one glance, Thomas figured out what she meant, always tuned in to her intentions and her fears. "And you will go back to help, because that's what you do. No matter how dangerous it is, or how much I'll ask you not to, you'll go and try to save as many people as you can."

"Yes," Rose said, relieved Thomas understood. But she did not expect what he said next.

"Then I will go with you," he muttered, staring deep into the creek as if he could see some version of the future on it. The water ran smooth, peaceful – would their future be like that too? Or would it rage, would it break against rocks, would it flood their dreams and turn them upside down and inside out until they were no longer dreams but nightmares? It was hard to tell, but with Thomas by her side, it was easier to face it.

"But it's not your country."

He snapped his head to her then, the blue in his eyes screaming. "But you are my life. You and Charlie and me family... I will do whatever it takes to keep you all safe."

Rose nodded, taking his hand and kissing over the back of it gently. She understood; she'd do the same for hers, which included Thomas and Charlie and their family too.

"Meanwhile, I want you to visit this place." Thomas reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, swiftly taking out a rectangular business card. The last beams of sunset caught on its edges, reflecting off the neat surface. Rose squinted, slowly reading over the silver letters. She recognized the name as a very expensive, very exclusive London doctor.

"This is a doctor," Rose said carefully, gauging his reaction. But Thomas simply nodded, watching Charlie collect pebbles to take home. "This is a doctor who treats politicians and nobles and possibly even King George. This is no doctor for me."

She couldn't imagine what kind of strings he had to pull to get a deal like this. Once again she felt grateful beyond words – that he had entered her life, that he had shaken it to its core, ripped it at every well-pruned edge, and that in the end, he had made it better.

"It is, now. It's taken care of." The way he pronounced each word, as if he was sure, as if he would do this and so much more for her – he probably would, because if it was the other way around so would she, and a small part of her was afraid to find out just how far they were willing to go for each other. They might end up burning the world in the process, if it meant the other was safe.

"Thomas—"

"I know you've lost hope, but there's a new, innovative treatment that focuses on nerve injury rehabilitation. I told the doctor about your case, and he said it was possible. He'd have to see for himself and run some exams, of course, but it is possible."

"Thomas, I—" She looked down at her arm, wondering. It was worse to have some hope and then have it cruelly taken away than to have no hope at all, yet looking at her numb arm, she realized she'd never lost that flicker of hope, and Thomas had figured it out and done something about it. For her. She felt so overcome with hope and joy and love for a moment she felt nauseous, as if her body was not big enough to contain all she was feeling. Still, she needed to be realistic about it. "It might not work. You can't spend so much money on something that might be useless."

"I can and I will." Thomas looked at her then, grasped her jaw, thumb drawing comforting circles on her cheek. "You'll play again, Rose. I'm sure of it."

She averted his gaze, so intense it made spring arrive early on her heart, the snow around it thawing, the winter it had been frozen in all but disappearing.

"What if I don't?" Her voice was a strangled thing, so fearful, so hopeful.

"Then at least you know you did everything in your power to try. But you will, I know."

Rose placed her hand over the one he had on her cheek, giving him back the words he whispered to her so long ago. "How can you tell, Thomas? You read my tea leaves?"

"No." Thomas brushed a finger over his nose, like he often did when he was trying to hide a smile. He remembered those words too. "But Polly did, and she saw you play. An orchestra behind you, all eyes on you. She said it was glorious, and she said it would happen sooner than we thought."

It fell down on her with the same force as gravity, inevitable and true: if Polly said it would happen, then it would.

She threw herself into Thomas' arms, already opened for her, and buried her face on his chest, right where his heart beat the loudest, right where the ouroboros would later be inked into.

"The first song I play again, be sure it's for you."

"Oh, I know." Thomas grinned then, that rare, wonderful grin of his that reached his eyes and swirled in the deep warm blues of them. "I intend for the last one to be for me too."

She kissed him then. She kissed him like the sky kisses the ocean each day at dusk: languidly, laced with longing, already craving the next moment they can touch again. Rose used to think that a love that came from war could only give them more war, but there, in Thomas' arms, feeling the warmth of him and the promise of their future together, seeing Charlie run to them and demand to be included in their hug, Rose realized a love born from war was actually fated for peace, for it had seen the worst of humanity and survived, so it was always meant to last.

It had been a long and arduous journey, but Rose Salvage had finally found her peace.

author's note.

I can't believe we reached the last chapter 😭 for a long time I thought I wouldn't be able to finish this story but I'm really glad I pushed through because after everything Tommy and Rose went through they deserved their happy ending ♡ 

I hope I managed to do the characters and their journey justice and that you enjoyed the ride as much as I did - as always please let me know your thoughts as I always love hearing from you!

thank you to everyone who read, voted and commented on this story and for sticking until the end, it truly means a lot. now all that's left is the epilogue and I'm also thinking of writing some extra scenes of their future, so regarding the next seasons, I was wondering if there are any particular scenes or characters you'd like to see Rose and the Kissers interact with? who knows, I might end up writing something with them so give me your ideas ;)