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Chapter Text

Walking into Tommy Shelby´s silent mansion unannounced and uninvited is one of those unthinkable things that only didn’t result in her ultimate demise because of the pitiful state in which she found the manor’s lord.

Laying on the ground of his office, passed out at midday and surrounded by half-empty glasses of all kinds of whiskey, the view and the odor of the head of the Peaky Blinders didn’t really fill Anna’s heart with confidence in the man.

The 21st century boots she should not have brought to 1927 echoed in the room, but what really seemed to start to breathe life into the man lying before her was the immediate assault of light hitting his face when Anna opened the window.

“Hm…” Tommy Shelby mumbled, but made no other move to rise.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Anna said and proceeded to dump the contents of one of the whiskey boodles on the man’s chest. Not his face. She was feeling gracious that fine Sunday morning.

The brown liquid had it’s effect and in a fast, albeit unsteady move, Tommy Shelby was up and pointing a gun at her face.

“Who the fuck are you?” to his credit, his words didn’t slur, but his eyes still had the glazed look of desperation bathed in alcohol.

“Anna Strauss” She said with a smirk, her hands slowly raising in surrender. “It is nice to meet you too Mr. Shelby.”

A entire minute went by in silence while the steely blue gaze she had only read about in the Academy’s reports took in every inch of her figure. She was really glad it was cold enough that she could wear kevlar under her thick blouse without notice, because the gun did not move from it’s position in his hands.

“Do you have a death wish Ms. Strauss?” Tommy said in a tone which surprised her in its quietness.

Anna pointedly looked around the mess of the room and the mess of a man and chuckled: “I believe that would be you Mr. Shelby… I could even find you some easier ways to dispose of yourself, if my mission here wasn’t to offer you my assistance.”

“Your assistance.” It wasn’t a question. It sounded like the confirmation of a fact. He took a step forward and pressed the barrel of the gun to her forehead. “And what kind of assistance do you intend to offer, Ms. Strauss?”, the sound of the safety being taken off echoed through Anna’s adrenaline filled brain, but she was ready for this.

“I intend to stop your son from fighting in the same kind of war his father had to, Mr. Shelby.” Her eyes stopped dead on his, and another minute of tense consideration went between them. His eyes straighten ever so slightly.

“Is that a threat?”

“I really wish it was.” She really needed this to work.

In a second that took forever, the safety was back on his gun, and it was now pointed to the sofa behind her.

“Sit!” he said, and when she did, he put the gun back in its holster, lit a cigarette and took the place in front of her. “Now, talk.”

“Almost 10 years ago, in 1919, a man called Adolf Hitler started to get very important in a German politic group who will be known as the Nazi Party. In 1939, that man will start the second great world war by invading Poland.” She started to recite the speech that every Time Keeper before her also knew by heart. “I represent a group of people who’s intent is to stop that from ever happening, and you are in a very good position to help us achieve that.” She paused, to let him digest that first. The Academy stood firm on the belief that honesty was the best policy when recruiting help from natives of the past. It still felt wrong.

“A group of people who know this how exactly?” His voice was neutral, but the intelligence in his eyes dared her to say what they were both thinking.

“Time travel”

“Time travel?” he sounded almost casual in his mocking tone.

“Yes.” Anna answered. Her brain working on overdrive to react to moves he still hadn’t made.

“Shouldn’t you be contacting H.G. Wells for that kind of endeavor Ms. Strauss?” The memory of a smile flew by his expression.

She didn’t smile back.

“I understand you are a betting man Mr. Shelby?” Anna said, opening her purse and pulling a roll of money out.

“You could say that.”

She threw the 8 thousand pounds on the coffee table between them. “In a week, you will hear of the victory of the Newcastle United, even as George Camsell earns the record for 59 goals in a Football League. Bet on them, and when you win, meet me at The Garrison for a chat.” Anna rose from her seat ans started to walk out.

“Anyone can be right once about a football match Ms. Strauss. That means nothing.” He said, still looking at where she was seated a moment ago. Anna paused in her path towards the door, turning around to face him.

“A year after the war begins, in 1940, Hitler and the King will get into a dick measuring contest for 57 days. During those days London will be bombed systematically nonstop. The British government will be aware of every attack, before it happens, but will not stop many of them because it will be strategically advantageous to them if Germany doesn’t know that they have cracked their code. Around 43 thousand civilians will be killed during that time, and the war is going to continue for 5 more fucking years after that.” The tears were dry in her eyes, but made her voice sound wet. She paused waiting for his gaze to rest on her face again and see the horror of what she was saying before she could continue.

“I understand you don’t care about your life anymore, Tommy; But how many of Charlie’s years are you willing to bet in the hope that I am wrong?”

He didn’t answer, and she left the manor almost as silent as she had found it.

Chapter Text

The sounds of men, drunk on whiskey and joy over a victorious soccer match, changed very little over the centuries.

The Garrison, despite its new and fancier stylistic choices, was still at heart, a blue color establishment, as evidenced by the loud boasting of uneducated, but passionate voices. If she closed her eyes and just took in the ambiance, Anna could easily pretend to be in a British tavern of the 14th century or a American sports bar in the 21st.

There really was something reassuring about the way people never changed. Except, of course, for the fact that change was exactly her trade of choice, and being a person herself, a daunting task even in the smallest of senses. Never mind the course of an entire World War.

Another thing that hadn’t changed since the dawn of the human race, was people’s instinctive reaction to powerful men (and Miranda Priestley). Her back was turned to the entrance, but she knew Tommy Shelby had walked in only by the way the bartender abandoned a well dressed costumer, mid-pour, retrieved the very expensive whiskey and the glass cups from the top shelf rushed to the small private area adjacent to the counter. Anna could only catch a brief glance of a very particular haircut, before the door to the private area was closed, and the room deflated to an almost normal level of revel.

It was reassuring how easy it was to differentiate the Peaky Blinders from ordinary working men. They dressed and talked the same; most of them even had guns strapped to their visible holsters; But the line between them was made clear when Tommy Shelby walked in and caused half of the men to almost salute and the other half to throw mildly aprehensive, looks his way.

That was good. No gangster was ever good in the biblical sense of the word. She didn’t expect, and in this particular case, didn’t want them to be. It was, however, important to make sure this gangster was, at the very least, stable and moral. The head of the Peaky Blinders inspired petrified fear or burning hate in everyone, except his own people. She could work with that.

“Excuse me miss, but mister Shelby asked if you would like to join him for a drink.” The bartender said, pointing to the sliding doors.

“How nice of him to ask.” Anna said, smirking on the inside. Eyes followed her around the room in variant degrees of curiosity.

She expected the room to have more luxurious furniture than the outside, but the chairs and table seemed to be of the same, if a little cleaner. As the bartender closed the door behind her, Tommy leaned back on his chair, blowing a large cloud of cancerous smoak up into the air. Then righted himself on his seat and pointed to another one with his cigarette.

She sat down without a word and waited for him to say something. Her mind already racing for other arguments to convince him, not only of what and who she was, but also of the urgency of her mission. In her experience it took about 3 encounters of very careful explaining before a mark could be turned into an ally; But her experience had, to that day, only been with homely housewives and young soldiers. So it had no impact whatsoever over the speed of her heartbeat.

“I talk to my dead wife sometimes. In my dreams.” He said. None of her comebacks quite fit with that sentence so Anna refrained from responding with a unintelligible sound and stayed silent.

“My aunt Polly sees the future in peoples tea leaves and my father used to tell people’s fortune at carnivals.” He let the silence stretch a bit longer before asking. “Do you know what that means Ms. Strauss?”

“No” She answered in a flat voice.

“It means” He leaned his elbows on the table and locked clear eyes on her.”That I know bullshit when I hear it”

“Mr. Shelby I-”His raised right hand stopped her mid sentence.

He pulled another drag of his cigarrette, held it in for a second and blew it out again before continuing:

“My father used to tell farmers that they were about to encounter shifting luck in their future, and then send me and my brothers at night to steal their horses. My aunt has great intuition that she mistakes for second sight in order to feel close to our heritage and I know very well that my dreams have a lot more to do with the opium I take before bed than with the willingness of my wife’s ghost to visit and give me sage advice.”

“I know what bullshit sounds and tastes and smells like Ms, Strauss. Which is why I’m so intrigued with your particular brand of it.” With a dull thunk he dropped a large roll of money on the table and leaned back on his chair. “Because even being bullshit, it is the profitable kind and that is another thing I am very well acquainted with.”

“So you don’t believe that I’m telling the truth?”

“No, I don’t. But I did make 8000 pounds on your very unlikely advice. And that makes me wonder how exactly you came about that kind of information, seeing as rigging football matches is not as easy as doping up a horse.” He took a sip of whiskey and poured her a hefty dose. “I would pay a lot for that kind of secret”

“I’m not bullshitting you Mr. Shelby.” She infused some sadness in her mostly professional voice and looked down at the money before brushing back her auburn curls and looking at him once more.

“Would you like some more proof?”

Thommy Shelby looked back at her with a poker face that would make her Social Management teacher jealous. His shoulders squared with hers reminded her even more of a poker game and she hoped he could catch truth on her expression.

“No”

“Mr. Shelby I assure you-”

“I just got out of a political mess that almost got my entire family hanged Ms. Strauss. If you want to talk business, we can do that, but I will not discuss the impending doom of the world and what I can do about it!” His voice sounded like steel but it felt hollow and frail to her. Like cracked ice.

Anna was ready for that situation and that did not stop her at all from being disappointed with the turn of events. He needed to believe in her soon because helping Tommy Shelby to increase his fortune would not get Adolf Hitler killed.

“Well then,” she sighed and sipped the golden liquid in her cup. “Let’s make a deal Mr. Shelby.” She took a small sheet of paper from her pocket and placed it between them.

“Those are 3 more sports matches that are about to happen in the next 3 weeks.”

“Two of these are American matches” he interrupted, looking down at the paper.

“Yes, and I’m sure your sister can place the bets for you in New York." She waved her hand. "Now, here is my deal: After you win each of those bets, you will call me -the number to my hotel is there at the bottom- and you will give me one hour of your time, so that I can convince you of my endeavor.” Her voice was infused with a small amount of well practiced exasperation.

“Will I?” he said still looking down at the paper. Face blank.

“Yes you will” She got up from the table and paused with her back turned to him, before opening the door. “Also, call Charlie’s doctor, and have him put epilepsy into your son’s records. The British government won’t be able to legally put him in the front lines that way.”

Anna then opened the door and left.

Chapter Text

Tommy Shelby could not be a father again.

And yet, Lizzie was already showing.

Polly wanted him to go see her. Try to fix his love of booze and opium with a good look at the belly bump that would soon be a human being. His daughter, if Polly’s “second sight” was to be believed.

The room around him was still in a form of disarray similar as to the one two weeks ago. The day that Ms. Anna Strauss had waltzed into his misery, uninvited. Similar, only because he had fucking servants now and they took care of tidying up his mess for him everyday, no matter how rude he was to Francis or Charlie.

Damn it, he could NOT be a father again!

Tommy was stuck in the never ending loop of talking to himself about himself and he was fucking tired of his damned voice. That’s why he was known for his silences really. He knew the power it could have, because if he could only get his own accusing thoughts to shut up, maybe he could also stop himself from looking weak, drunk and lost in front of anyone who cared to look.

He sat up on his couch, his right hand, still red from the deep cut he had inflicted on himself, stinging in harmony with the monumental hangover he needed to start nursing immediately. He reached for the bell that would summon Francis like cattle, and hated it, but he did not trust his own voice to refrain from producing a wail if he used it. Before she came though, he lit up a cigarette and took another dose of whiskey.

All he needed was a little bit more of the poison who had gotten him here. That would keep him going.

Francis was, not surprisingly, was worried about him. But she was also easily distracted by him when told to call the family doctor to stitch his hand up. Which she did, and 2 hours later he was leaving his home with a bandaged hand and a medical sick note for Charlie’s alleged epilepsy.

That was a good problem to start working on. The crazy woman who said she was from the future had no influence in his Peaky Blinders business; and he needed to warm up to this never ending work of his, before he outlined the plan to the family’s next step. Before he could go and see Lizzie.

“How may I help you Sir?” The man at the desk of the opulent hotel asked.

“I would like to speak with Ms. Anna Strauss please.” He said, half expecting her to not be there at all. But then again, if her idea of a con was to give him money and then leave, he should probably assume that the woman was entirely made up of his opium fueled imagination.

“Of course,Mr. Shelby. Just a moment” The short man checked the books and then directed him to sit and wait in one of the lobby’s comfortable sofa.

Five minutes later and she appeared, the red blouse the only vibrant color amid black trousers, coat and hair. Wavy hair that she wore long, like Polly used to, when he was a boy.

“The last game on the list was won two nights ago Mr. Shelby. I was about to give up on you.” Her american accented voice reached him before her hand did, waiting for him to shake it.

He waited a beat to do it. But hugged her hand with his, without a word.

“Shall we go then?” She said, still standing before him.

“Where?” he made no move to get up.

Ms. Strauss leaned forward a little and whispered to him:
“Somewhere where I can prove to you where I came from, without having to also hear about how the duchess loves her new son-in-law.” With her eyes she indicated a very well dressed, loud, woman to their right, and then took a step back waiting for him to rise.

He did and, without offering her his arm, strode towards his car.

She got into his Bentley and offered no commentary on the direction that they were taking. Tommy didn’t divulge their destination either, and only stopped looking at the road when they were at the docs. Factory smoke filled the air, mud coated the floor, and it would probably cling to her hair and ruin her shoes but she stepped out of the car to follow him with nothing more than a reset of her shoulders and full red lips compressed into a thin line.

He led her to the stables, told Curly to leave and took his place brushing down his horse.

“How much money did you make Mr. Shelby?” She leaned her forearms against the stall’s open door. Nothing, however, disturbed the silence but the sound of his brush going up and down the horse’s side for a minute or so.

“When are you from, Ms. Strauss?” he asked, not looking in the direction of her dark eyes.

“The 21st century.” Her voice was firm, calm and directed straight at him. Well, if she was looking he might as well take this opportunity to remove his coat, jacket and gloves. That seemed to distract people (women) sometimes. It didn’t have a visible effect though.

“And what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to ask your help in stopping world war 2. You do remember me telling you this, right Mr. Shelby? Because if you are too drunk to function already I must go and try to enlist Alfie Solomons’ help. I hear he is a very pleasant sort of fellow.”

Tommy froze.

“They do say he has beaten you more than a few times in the business, so maybe I came to the wrong place anyway.” The wood cracked under the pressure of her weight being pushed off the door as she took one step back.

“Already?” He turned and faced her. His voice, as monotone as ever, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from going a little wide.

“What?” she shook her head a tiny little bit and refocused on his eyes.

“Already too drunk to function. What do you mean by that?”

“I…” a slight blush,the same shade as her lips, briefly crossed her cheeks. “I meant, do you not remember how we met Mr. Shelby?” she continued with remarkable conviction. But he had seen her slip.

“It is never a good idea to lie to me Ms. Strauss” He dropped the brush, trading it for a cigarette, which he slowly put between his lips and lit it.

“I shouldn’t lie to you Mr. Shelby? And how am I supposed to do that if you won’t accept the truth when it is given to you?” with hands thrown into the air, her voice rose a little, but not enough to startle the horse.

“You see Ms. Strauss…” Tommy stepped out of the stall, and closed it behind him. “The way that you said the word ‘already' right then, that makes me think that you know exactly where my demons lie.” He took a drag of the cigarette. “And that means that someone must’ve told you something about them.” Was it Michael? That boy needed to be put in his place, and Polly wouldn’t dissuade him of a good beating this time.

“You mean apart from the state I found you in our first encounter?” she snorted. Took a step back.

“On a Sunday. One time. That means nothing.”

“I got no inside information Mr. Shelby.” She took another step back, and her knees hit a three-legged stool that clattered to the floor.

“Maybe someone decided to try the honey trap on me again eh? Only they picked the crazy whore to do it!” Dark fire flashed in her eyes at that, and she was in his face a second later.

“You wanna know why I said ‘already’ Tommy Shelby? I will fucking SHOW you why!” A piece of paper was then thumped against his chest. She took a step back, and he looked down at the paper cut out.

“That is an obituary for one Thommy Michael Shelby, January 1st 1954.” And it was. A 2 line little thing with no picture on it. “You die of an opium overdose that will be the apex of the last 20 years of your life. Those will consist of a son who died in the war, a daughter who hates you and a broken criminal empire who no one in my time even remembers anymore. Even if they still have movies made about Al Capone!” Anna’s voice did disturb the horse this time. Or maybe, it was just its connection to Tommy’s mood that did that.

“But I remembered! I read about you for hours and I thought, hey, a man who can build such an impressive business out of virtually nothing, and blackmail the king himself. That man has got to be able to help me change the one event in Time that seems to be set in stone, right?” She turned her back on him, paced a few times, stopped and finished, looking down at her muck stained shoes. “And now I’m going to be stuck here for the next 15 years, because Tommy fucking Shelby is not man enough to admit that he has a problem”

It was crazy. Of course it was. He was Tommy Shelby, OBE, head of the Peaky fucking Blinders.

The obituary could have been faked for effect and she could be just a good actress or a crazy woman with a very impressive imagination. The football match could have been rigged, and a thousand other reasons tried to convince him this was a lie. Of all people, Tommy Shelby knew the importance of a prop in order to pull a successful bluff.

Except… If he was being honest with himself. Something about the idea of him dying alone and destitute of his own power, surrounded by too much booze and dope rang awfully true in his ears.

That was why he couldn’t be a father wasn’t it?

How hard was it to believe that his daughter would hate him, when he was already half decided on marrying her mother, knowing he would never love her? How could Polly not leave him, when he thought about fucking destroying Michael if he tried to take Tommy’s crown.

His family was why he kept going.

He would destroy it anyway.

Fuck.

He breathed in the last of his cigarette and threw the stub on the floor. Rearranged his cap in place, gathered his coat, jacket and gloves. And with the damning paper in his pocket, Tommy moved to leave the stable.

“Let’s go!”

“Where?”

“To my office Anna.” He halted at the door and waited to hear her steps following him but was met with only the coveted silence. He turned around and met her stunned face then. “That’s where I do business. I’m gonna need some more information, eh?”

Chapter Text

“Whose fucking idea was it that I go on holiday, eh?” Tommy strutted into the Shelby betting shop and it was the first time Anna heard something resembling lightness in his voice. 

A tall man with a mustache and the signature Blinders haircut said something about golf and how it was boring and easy while clapping Tommy’s shoulder on the way to his office. He almost closed the door on her face.

“And who are you, love?” He said when Anna stopped the door with her hand.

“This is Ms. Anna Strauss, Arthur.” Tommy cut in almost before Arthur finished his sentence.  “She has a business proposition for me.” 

“Oh, well, I’m sorry Ms. Strauss.” Arthur said after a pause. He moved out of her way with no further issues and extended his right hand to shake hers. “It is nice to meet you!”

“A pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Shelby.” She shook his hand back and moved into the spartan room.

The wordless kind of encrypted communication siblings usually have passed between the Shelby brothers and a second later Arthur left with a mere “welcome back” thrown over his shoulder before he closed the door. 

“Drink Ms. Strauss?” Tommy said motioning her to the empty chair, while sitting down himself and pulling out a bottle of whiskey from the bottom drawer of his sturdy desk.

“No, thank you, Mr. Shelby.” Anna sat down.

“Tommy.”

“I’m sorry?”

“If we are to plan an assassination in the near future, Anna, formalities can be forgotten, don’t you think?” He took a sip of his whiskey.

“Yes, you’re quite right… Tommy. The thing is… we can’t have Hitler killed yet.” 

“Why?” His posture didn’t change, but his eyebrows went up a fraction.

“You see, Hitler is an awful man with awful ideas and plans. But right now, the German people don’t know that. They either chose not to see it, or are fooled by his nationalistic rhetoric to think that he is right. If he dies now, before people can’t see where his ideas are taking the country and the world to, somebody else will just take his place.”

“Sure, maybe, if somebody else takes his place a war doesn’t happen, or if it does, isn’t as horrific, but we can’t know for sure. The man is a monster, but he is not the only one and his motivations are certainly not unique to him.What we need to do is undermine his authority, his message, his propaganda and then end him when everyone else will kinda be wishing for his death anyway.” She stopped talking then, watching the still, and yet never calm, man before her. 

He said nothing. He either guessed what she would be saying next, or was rethinking his decision to help her. Anna gave him no more room to decide by saying,

“I came to you because I know you are very, very close to putting yourself in the House of Lords as the head of the Worker’s Party, Mr. Thomas Shelby. I also suspect you will be doing that, not because you want more power, but because you want to win the game people have made you a pawn of. My only suggestion is that you do that on a slightly larger scale than you once predicted.” Her chin had unconsciously gone up while her voice acquired an almost preaching quality. She probably would be embarrassed by that later, but right now, Anna allowed her passionate desperation to flow free into her features in hopes of maybe warming him.

If it did, she had no way of knowing by his expression. All she knew was that he was considering her words carefully, while taking another deliberate sip of his amber drink. Had she said too much? The Academy was adamant about the “Need to Know” rule, and Anna’s necessity for honest communication had always clashed with that ideal. That was, after all, the reason why she had come alone, to a time period very different to the one her assignment had prescribed. 

“We should talk about your role in my company from now on, Ms. Strauss.” Tommy said. For a second, his words made no sense to her, so she didn’t answer in time to stop his next sentence. “If you are to be my political adviser, I should think we will need an excuse for our frequent meetings, eh? Somehow I think such a distinguished lady like yourself will take offense at being undercover as my whore.” Humor shaded by some memory crossed his face for a second. “I am in need of a new secretary.”

“Is it not customary to negotiate the details of a deal, Mr. Shelby?” Her voice had some menace in it, but they both knew how relieved she was by his compliance so the poison didn’t take.

“This is not a deal, Anna. This is a gamble. And the best way to profit off a gamble is to go all in.” He stood and offered her his hand to shake. Anna stood herself and took his hand in hers.

“Thank you Mr. Shelby.”

“Come to my office when I get elected. And when you do, Anna, call me Tommy.”

 ***

Almost a month later, Anna was leaving her newly rented apartment in the chilly morning when a rolled up copy of the Birmingham Daily Post hit her chest, not without some force. Automatically, she grabbed it from the well manicured hand that held it. The slight heartburn she had been experiencing in the last few weeks finally left her body accompanied by a long sigh.

Picture of the Birmingham Daily Post: https://ibb.co/vBy48Hr

“Damn me, Arthur can be right sometimes.” Polly Gray said. Anna raised her eyes towards the Shelby matriarch and couldn’t help but feeling a little starstruck. “Tommy is following a woman again, God help us all.”

“Would you like to come in Ms. Gray?” Anna said, taking a step back into her small abode. With a delicate eyebrow raised, Polly followed her in, and closed the door.

Anna dropped the paper on the table and occupied herself with the soothing activity of warming water for tea. ‘One can always trust British people to wait for a good brew’, her Foreign Culture 101 teacher used to say. How much had Tommy told Polly? Or Arthur for that matter. She was under the impression that Tommy Shelby wasn’t the most chatty of men, couldn’t he keep a damn secret? On the other hand, if he had told his family about their endeavors, maybe that meant that he was committed to it. It would be a relief to know that for sure.

Polly Gray had the eyes of a hawk and the poise of a queen. She took her first sip of Earl Grey and, instead of asking more questions, just looked at Anna. It felt like an oral exam that she was not ready for. Looking for something to excuse her from that piercing gaze, Anna got up and reached for the cookie jar on the top shelf and laid it in front of them. The older woman picked up a cookie, took a bite, and when she spoke, Anna’s brain took a second to puzzle out the words.

“You are not a lovesick girl.” It was not a question. More like a disappointed statement.

“Hum… no.” Anna downed all of her scalding hot tea after answering.

“You are not an ambitious whore either.” Her head tipped slightly to the right and snatched Anna’s teacup from her stunned hands. She was never going to get used to the casual way people asked that in this decade.

“No. In fact, as of today, I imagine I’m nothing more than your nephew’s secretary.” She tried to smile.

“Don’t lie to me girl. Tommy has not hired a secretary without hidden intentions ever before. Especially not one with enough money to rent a place like this.” Polly said with her eyes cast down; still studying Anna’s tea leaves. What could she see there?

The one bedroom apartment in Small Heath was hardly what Anna would call luxurious, but it did have hot water and furniture that was not half-eaten by rats. It wasn’t rented in her name though, she had taken precautions. The only other person aware of where she lived was Tommy himself, via a hand delivered note. Did the man have any secrets at all?

“Look, Ms. Gray. I don’t intend on doing nothing more than my job-”

“Shut up!” Polly made the table tremble with the force of Anna’s teacup hitting it. “I’ll tell you what I know. I know that Tommy’s housemaids have been gossiping about a mysterious woman in trousers going in and out of his house while he was in one of his moods. I know, that shortly after he came out of holiday, he got himself elected MP of the fucking Worker’s Party and I know that his son now has a registered medical condition, when I have never seen a more healthy child in my life…” She trailed off, intently evaluating Anna’s stunned look.

“I have nothing…” Anna tried, but her wonder at his preparation cut her off before Polly could.

“Tommy has also bought property in Charlie’s name, in America, and he wrote a will… giving Grace’s son to Lizzie fucking Stark if he comes to pass. And what I know, Ms. Anna Strauss, is that the last time he made so many war preparations I ended up with a rope around my neck.” Her voice trembled at the end of that sentence, and the information finally clicked inside Anna’s mind. Of course Polly Gray would fucking notice if her beloved nephew started to make preparations. Of course she would wonder.

“So what I am asking you to tell me is: exactly how much is it going to cost me to get you, and whatever war you bring, out of his way?” 

Anna took a deep breath against the overbearing pressure of her heart filling up with guilt. She could lie. She should lie. Time only could tell how big of a Wave this particular Ripple would end up becoming. But what was the point? Polly would know if she lied and then she would’ve bought herself a very capable enemy. She had always preferred to deal with the devil she knew anyway.

Anna leaned forward on the table and allowed the fear in her eyes to find its twin in Polly’s.

“There is no escape from this war, Polly. I’m sorry.”

Silence enveloped them along with the smell of tea for a few moments. Disbelieving realization and horror settled in Polly’s expression without further explanation, and yet, somehow Anna thought she understood. She made no further inquiries anyway. Polly merely gathered her coat and bag and moved towards the door, shoulders squared in a way that made her look taller.

“I’ll see you tomorrow to go over his agenda.” Polly threw over her shoulder and closed the door.

Chapter Text

Tommy's POV

3 Months Later

“This is not working,” Tommy said, before going into his town office and leaving the door open for her.

He heard her soft, annoyed sigh while she got up from her desk and came in behind him. He stayed standing with his back turned to her, staring at books he would never read. The door made an almost inaudible clicking sound as it closed and the chair across his desk creaked under his secretary’s weight. 

“What seems to be the problem then, Sir?” Anna asked, in the professional tone that sounded a little amused to  Tommy’s ears.

He took a few breaths that were meant to be deep, but never quite touched the bottom of his lungs. How could he explain the unadulterated hatred most of the MP’s awakened in him? How they made the sound of shovels ring in his ears and the smell of mud penetrate his mind. How the way they casually discussed new laws, without ever considering their effect on the little people, brought back the hopeless claustrophobia of waiting for the cavalry while buried alive.

“They don’t listen to me.” He said. Only turning towards her when he was absolutely sure his expression held nothing beyond cold hate. “I’m not like them.”

“And by that you mean, of course, that while you have a chip on your shoulder, they were born with a silver spoon shoved up their asses. Right?” Anna said with a small grin.

“A chip on my shoulder?” He leaned over the black leather chair and stared at her. 

“Look Tommy, I can appease your ego, or I can tell you the truth. What would you prefer?” Anna’s voice got sweeter, and she leaned back in her chair.

“The truth.”

“They don’t vote with you because they don’t like you, and really, I can’t see why they would. You treat people like they’re your whores and then expect them to like it. That’s just not how it works.” 

“It has worked for me.” He said, gesturing slightly to the expensive room around them.

“Sure it did. Because the people you need to trust you are your family, over which you have innate power, so of course they do. They don’t really have a choice do they?” Anna jumped up and started to prepare drinks for them while continuing her speech. Gesturing with the glasses while making her point. “From everybody else… Well, they are so poor that whatever amount of money or power you give them is enough to convince the bastards that Tommy Shelby wants them to have a better life. So they don’t even notice how little they actually matter. And I don’t really blame you for thinking this way. You consider yourself a whore, so why the hell would you think differently of anybody else?” She walked back in his direction and offered him his glass of Irish whiskey. “White, rich men were raised to believe that they are above that. Whether or not you agree, Tommy. They will act accordingly.” 

Tommy reached for the cup and took his measured sip while watching her glide back to her seat. He missed the simplicity of the business transactions he had enjoyed so far. He could act his part just as well as any other Gypsy worth his tricks, but he was so fucking tired of it. 

“God, you look like I just told you to bring me the moon!" She laughed. "Make some friends, invite a few guys to smoke nasty cigars in a dark room while you talk trash about your wives, throw a party or something! It’s not rocket science Tommy!” She threw her hands in the air, frustrated, and then brought them back by sliding her fingers through her black, recently cut, hair. 

“A party?” How was that going to help? Tommy snorted to himself.

“Yes, a fucking party! You know, a social gathering where people drink and laugh and have fun… One where nobody gets shot, if at all possible, too.” She grinned, but her eyes were serious. “Polly says the Peaky Blinders have trouble with that part.” 

He should tell Polly to stop telling war stories over their weekly lunch. “And that is not treating them like whores… how?” It was just how the world worked. Give and take, supply and demand. He drank a little more.

“This is an investment, not a transaction, Tommy. More like wooing a woman if you will. If, come next month, after all of our efforts, they still choose not to vote with you in the new syndicate law, there will be no retribution. You will keep treating them in the exact same way. Most of them will do the same and when their companies are crashing because of the strikes, they will come to you for advice. They will do it the next time as well and before you know it, they trust you.”

“And we all hug and watch the fucking sunset, eh?” He snorted. Her olive tinted face turned to stone before his eyes. Yanked back to reality she squared her shoulders with his, a slim blue vein slightly visible in her forehead.

Tommy was never rude simply for the sheer entertainment value of it. It was just that politeness was a direct opposite to objectivity. Rudeness on the other hand, was sure to always draw out the most sincere reactions, and he had no patience for social interpretations of others intentions. Particularly not with his own people.

Anna rose from the chair. Her movements were just as gracious as before, but lacking the lightness he had started to associate with her in their time working together. She went around the mahogany desk, leaned her ass against the edge of it and put her hands on his shoulders. The scent of cherry surrounding him most certainly came from her perfume, but it matched the shade of her lips so well that he imagined it to be her breath. She had faint smile lines around her mouth, but her lips were a thin line as she leaned her weight on her left hand, keeping him in place while the right hand unholstered the gun strapped to his ribs on the right side.

Tommy’s heartbeat sped up, but his practiced indifferent expression stayed in place. ‘This is all extra,’ he repeated in his mind. ‘I was supposed to be dead already’.

 The gun, however, was not pressed to his temple, or his heart. Anna jerked back, his chair lurched forward with the absence of pressure. She readied the gun for a shot in the time it took for him to blink. Then his hand was around the gun and her hands around his, thumbs pressing his index finger on the trigger. Anna's eyes once again locked on his, she brought their hands up and placed the gun to her forehead.

“If you can’t trust me, then you can kill me, Tommy.” 

Charged, oppressive silence hung between them. Could she see him debating the options in his head? Was it even possible to hide? He couldn’t verbalize to his own mind what he wanted to do about her. With her. To her. But his index finger fought against hers to escape the trigger. Wasn’t that answer enough?

“No,” Tommy decided.

Anna held his gaze for a second more and then released his hand just as quickly as she had arrested it. She pushed herself from the edge of his desk, turned her back stalked over to the door, opened it and turned to him.

“Then you better start taking me seriously.” The soft click of the closing door slammed through his bones.

Chapter Text

The thing about the acts one takes in anger, is that they almost always cause a staggering amount of self-consciousness once said anger is gone. At the time, forcing Tommy Shelby’s gun out of his holster and demanding his trust by force, seemed like the best and only way to make her point. The next day however, it felt like an unnecessary display of pride.

Now, every time Tommy addressed her, it was all she could do to force her body temperature to something below the warm degrees of shame. It wasn’t that he looked at her differently, per se. It was that now, she knew how the smell of sodium bicarb was strong enough to overpower the nicotine in his breath. You know, the kind of information that should absolutely not flood her mind in relation to anyone in the past. But it did. Nobody showed that in the movies.

At least it had worked, she comforted herself. Of course, Tommy Shelby would not be told what to do, so no parties were thrown. Apparently, the millions of rooms in his mansion were not made for such things; he never did explain what all that space was actually for though. In any case, the head of the Peaky Blinders had spent the 2 weeks subsequent to their… theatrical interaction, knee deep in tea meetings and club luncheons with the politicians around. By Friday, the man looked exhausted.

Not that Tommy Shelby ever looked anything but exhausted. The defiant way he held himself reminded her of the Greek Myth of Atlas. 

“You are welcome to join me at the races Mr. Blake. I’m sure Lizzie would love to meet your family.” Tommy said while escorted the middle aged men out the door of his office.

“I’m sure I will, Mr. Shelby. See you Sunday.” Mr. Blake shook Tommy’s hand as he said his goodbyes and left.

“Would you like me to schedule a terrible illness to take place on Sunday sir?” Anna said in her best impression of a subservient secretary. 

“Fuck you.” He replied, but the slightest movement of the left side of his mouth betrayed amusement. She smirked back.

“Papa!” a childish voice pierced the room and stopped Tommy from going back into his office. The change in him was immediate. 

Before she blinked twice, Tommy was kneeling with arms stretched wide beside him. Charles, running in the unsteady way children often do, reached the embrace of his father who immediately got up and twirled the little boy in the air.

Behind his first born came Lizzie Stark holding Tommy’s daughter in her arms, a proud smile on her face. Anna had no evidence that their relationship was unilateral from her studies. Paper clippings can never properly describe a relationship, and even if she knew that they would not end up together - or at least they didn’t before she came to mess up the timeline- it really was hard to not root for the couple a little bit when she saw the tender way Tommy kissed his children in the forehead and his… lover? on the cheek. It made her wish for something similar someday. A limited slice of happiness was happiness still.

“Papa, can we ride the horsies today? Pleaseeee ?” George’s voice was the last thing he heard as Tommy led them out of the building. Not even a goodbye thrown her way.

Slowly, Anna began the tedious job of getting the office ready to close before the weekend. It wasn’t a lengthy process by any means, she could have it done in 10 minutes, maybe even less, but she had been going through the familiar routine slower and slower every day for a while now. Loneliness was a funny thing. It’s not like she got a lot of social interaction out of Tommy Shelby everyday, the man’s definition of a conversation was barely considered a tweet by her estimation. It was, however, something.

Inevitably, the work was done and she left the office with the suggestion of sunlight still hovering somewhere beyond the smog covered Birmingham. Being from another time could make things in the past seem unreal in so many ways. The tired looks on the faces of child workers, the torn dresses of overworked prostitutes and the ever present smoke were very real to her eyes, but somehow always ended up being interpreted in her brain as some ethereal artistic photograph. She could almost see everything in black and white.

There was a colorful spot amid the  neighborhood though. The Garrison attracted her with its near magnetic pulse, like it did everyone else. A place where people could see their own successful Peaky Blinders in the flesh. It was hard to fault the young man that lined up before Arthur Shelby trying to get a job that could kill them if the Blinder’s home was the only semblance of happiness they ever got. She would want to be a Blinder too.

As usual, Arthur Shelby held court around the bar, toasting to everything, in honor of everyone in that way that kept the Shelby’s as a part of the community despite their higher status. It was a smart political move and it was also a very natural Arthur thing to do. Damn, Tommy Shelby was smart.

“Anna!” His powerful voice made every eye turn towards her for a second. “John, get the woman a drink!” Unsurprisingly he was already wasted but, come to think of it, had she ever seen sober Arthur?

Anna walked through the nicotine scented smoke to Arthur’s side, leaned against the polished counter and allowed him to kiss her cheek.  

“What will it be ma’am?” John, the young bartender asked.

“Whatever it is you would never serve Arthur, John.” Anna answered directing a mischievous grin towards the elder Shelby. Arthur barked a laugh as John fetched her a glass of cider.

“And how is my little brother treating you, Anna?” Arthur dismissed most of his fans with a drunken gesture and turned completely towards her on his bench. “Not making you work too hard is he?”

“Not as much as you, apparently. I haven’t seen you in here for almost 2 weeks.” Not the most subtle way to try gathering information from the man, but Arthur wasn’t known for his conversational awareness so she felt pretty safe. 

“Ah, yeah. Well Tommy had me working on some trouble in London lately ya know?” He said in his usual booming voice, but then lowered it to an almost whisper to add, “There was a man selling children.” 

"Ah yes, busy work.” Anna said and slowly sipped her cider. He was doing what ? 

“That stupid fucking psycho never knew what hit him!” Arthur almost shouted.

“Shut up Arthur!” The polished voice of Polly Gray interrupted them. “That is family business” She continued looking at Anna like she had just crawled out of the sewers.

“Come on Pol, Anna is…” 

The Shelby matriarch cut him off with a look, took en elegant drag on her cigarette and said:

“Find a boy to walk Ms. Strauss home Arthur. Tommy wants her protected.” 

Arthur hesitated, but obeyed.

Anna had enough information anyway. Mourning the missed night of simple company already she downed what was left of her cider and got down from her bar stool.

“Good night Polly.” She tried to move past the woman but Polly’s slender, cold hand had locked around her bicep, keeping her in place.

“You could make this so much easier on yourself if you just told me the truth girl.” Polly whispered in her ear. Anna looked up and faced the veiled concern in Polly’s eyes.

“And how long after that you’ll start convincing Mr. Shelby to distrust me because I broke my word?” She tried to make her eyes convey honesty instead of defiance. “I’m sorry Polly.” She said, ripping her arm away from the older woman’s grip.

Anna had enough information anyway. Mourning the missed night of simple company already she downed what was left of her cider and got down from her bar stool.

“Good night Polly” She tried to move past the woman but Polly’s slender, cold had locked around her bicep, keeping her in place.

“You could make this so much easier on yourself if you just told me the truth girl.” Polly whispered in her ear. Anna looked up and faced the veiled concern in Polly’s eyes.

“And how long after that you’ll start convincing Mr. Shelby to distrust me because I broke my word?” She tried to make her eyes convey honesty instead of defiance.

“I’m sorry Polly.” She said, ripping her arm away from the older woman’s grip.

It was too bad really. Polly hadn’t been anything but professional in their last 3 business luncheons. Sure, she wasn’t kind either, but Anna thought they had at least reached an understanding… Oh well, that was tomorrow's problem. She was tired, and even more aware of the loneliness inside, after her brief moments of social interaction.

Marcus, a young man of maybe 15, already carried a gun and seemed way too happy about it as he walked her home. Loyal boy that he was, he refused a cup of tea when they reached her, Shelby approved, apartment and with a polite goodbye vanished back into the night. It was just as well, she consoled herself, Anna could make a killer cup of coffee in her sleep, but tea was an art that escaped her entirely. 

Moving past the phone and into the kitchen, Anna considered what to make for dinner. Her grandma’s pasta recipe maybe… wait. The phone? 

She walked back a few paces and, sure enough, there it was, on her living room wall, a very big and very new telephone with a note attached to it.

From: Tommy Shelby

Was all it said. With his home phone number written at the bottom. He wanted her to be always available, now, did he? Very well.

She dialed the number.

“Shelby residence” his maid answered in the third ring.

“Hello Martha. Is Mr. Shelby home?” She asked in a sweet voice. The woman was still half convinced the telephone was the devil’s work apparently. “Tell him it's his secretary calling. I wanna thank him for the wonderful gift” her voice grated a tiny bit. She hoped Martha didn’t notice.

“A gift? Oh how wonderful! I’ll let him know.” Martha said, all too happy to have an excuse to let go of the device. 

“I hope you know that I’m not paying the bill for this.” She said as soon as his breathing could be heard through the line. He waited a beat to respond.

“I value my privacy Anna. I thought you might feel the same way.” 

“You value ownership and control Tommy. Why the hell are you thinking about getting me a phone when you have bigger and more important connections to be focusing on?! You see me everyday!” Her voice was way less composed than she would like to admit, but she was already on edge.

“A phone is it?” Was that a smile in his voice? “I would have it removed, but you seem to already be quite enamored with the thing” It was definitely a fucking smile.

“That’s just what we call teleph… That is so not the point! I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that the vote is next month Tommy. You do not have the time to be diverging your attention to getting me telephones or to be using Arthur as executioner in London!” Silence on the other side of the line.

“My connections are not a problem.” He finally said. Very calm.

“Yes, and pigs are prone to flight!” Anna snapped back. 

He said nothing.

“I don’t even… this was a stupid idea!” She sighed, closing her eyes and resting her head in the cool wooden door beside the phone. 

“I have it under control Anna.” 

“I’m… too tired for this. Goodnight Tommy.” Anna said in a low voice. “And I am still not paying for this bill!” Energy came back to her for the last sentence and she slammed the receiver back into its hook. 

Anna made a conscious effort to put him out of his mind for the remainder of the evening. She cleaned her bedroom, made herself some delicious pasta, closed the windows and allowed herself a few minutes with her earphones on, listening to some 21st century music.

She was very careful to maintain the device in good condition. It had all the data she had brought to aid her mission, all her research on the Blinders and some comfort things, like pictures of family, friends and some good music. She had a solar charger that she left glued to the back of her bedroom door on Sunday mornings, when the streets were empty and no one was likely to see the futuristic device. People didn’t burn women for being witches anymore, but she didn’t wanna raise any questions. 

Today she deserved some familiar comforting things. Even if they made her heart ache with the loss of home. It was worth the risk.

She started to drift off when the clues finally clicked in her mind. Tommy’s connections were going well. And Arthur has some undisclosed assignments in London? Her stomach went cold. 

Oh the stupid reckless asshole ! 

***

Anna spent her Saturday deliberately keeping Tommy out of her mind. She cooked, she cleaned and she went out for the week’s groceries. Post WWI Birmingham was not the best place to get fresh produce, but she did her best. And anyway, if there is one thing that lonely people appreciate is long errands to take their mind off of the emptiness. 

The morning after that she was ready. She got dressed in a pretty dark blue dress, she could only afford because of her little black book of bets (which, really, wasn’t so much a black book as it was a password protected file in her phone), she packed a few extra thousand and took off in the direction of the races.

The extra money and a little flirting got her a spot in the rich people side of the arena. Anna chose a table by the window in the back of a restaurant and watched as Tommy negotiated something with old Mr. Blake two tables over. It was easy to identify his negotiating face because it was always the most calm one in the room. She drank her tea and watched the meeting take place before her. 

It ended when a very dignified, silver haired woman, Mrs. Blake, came to the table to greet Tommy and her husband. The atmosphere around them suddenly turned polite, though still a little stiff by the looks of the strain in Tommy’s eyes. She really needed to teach that man the art of small talk. The aristocratic couple got up and moved off, saying their goodbyes. Another well dressed man came in his direction, but she was faster.

“Your cover would work better if you brought your wife to these things.” She said, and continued, whispering. “I could tell something very illegal was happening here from a mile away.”

Tommy looked at her. No expression on his face. Not even the mild disinterest he tended to wear when trying to unsettle an opponent. 

“She is not my wife” He leaned back. ”And you are interfering with business.” He reached for a cigarette.

“You are interfering with business!” She paused to take a deep breath and leaned back herself. “You know how stupid this is, which is why Arthur is the only one you told and even he doubts the wiseness of this decisions. Otherwise he wouldn’t have told Polly about it too! How are you supposed to help me if you are hanged?” 

“Are you trying to tell me the man selling children from Grace’s charity deserved to live?” He lit the cigarette, the lighter’s flame flickering out of rhythm with the breeze inside the restaurant.

“Are you telling me they are all child traffickers?” She whispered. “It's a wonder there are any children still around!” Anna populated her voice with a good layer of sarcasm.

Silence fell between them. Tense and familiar, it allowed both of them to really listen to the noise around them. A new race was about to begin and the narrators were riling the crowd up. Waves of excited cheer enveloped the quiet chatter inside the room. 

“And last, owned by the newest Member of Parliament, Grace’s Secret!” The crowd cheered and Tommy was standing.

“Tommy…” 

A gunshot echoed through the arena. Tommy’s lit cigarette fell on the table, and he was gone. Anna smothered the flame with the napkin in her lap, dropped a few bills on the table and ran after him through the back door. He was going to physically run from her questions now? 

She glimpsed the tail of his coat turning the corner to the staff hallway and hastened her pace a bit, his name on her lips. Turning the corner she found Tommy, leaning against the wall, fighting a useless fight with the knotted tie around his neck. Small, wheezing breaths heaving his entire chest up and down at an unhealthy speed.

“Oh Fuck.” Anna halted, eyes wide, kind of wanting to lean against the wall herself. “Tommy?” She said instead, and looked around them.

Tommy didn’t respond, which was no surprise. He was always around the pasty side of white, but she had never thought of snow when looking at his completion before. His hands were shaking around the buttons of his collar, and the trembling got worse when the roars of victory shook the walls again. 

Thousands of contradictory first aid instructions raided her brain. What to do first? Lay him down? Take his pulse? Oh wait… yes… take him somewhere safe.

Anna started to try all the doors in that hallway. A smelly bathroom, tree locked doors, and one, blissfully unlocked supply room. She went back to Tommy. His teeth grinding harder by the second.

“Tommy, it's Anna.” She murmured. You shouldn’t shout at a panicking person right? She tried to get into his eye line. He didn’t seem to see her though. 

“Can I touch you?” She extended her opened palm between them.

Five ragged breaths between them before she continued. “I just want to get you in a more private place,” She pointed to the opened door. “Is that okay?” 

More silence. 

But he did nod his head once.

Anna breathed out hard, and very slowly moved her hand to his. It was icy.

When his attitude didn’t change for a good minute of them touching, she gave his arm a little tug. Murmuring sweet, meaningless, nothings to comfort herself. Whatever was the proper order for actual first aid, she did know that panicking herself was not an option.

Close to the door, she stopped them and asked to borrow his lighter a few  times. Tommy nodded somewhere along the third time and Anna reached in his left side pocket to get it. His extremities were cold, but Tommy was sweating under his jacket. It took her a couple of tries to light the lamp inside the room one handed, but God only knew if he would allow her to touch him again if Anna let him go and she could hear waiters talking in the hallway they came from. 

Finally, the lamp was lit and she managed to lower both of them down, leaning against the shelves. She closed the door with her foot.

Anna was hoping that by that point, Tommy’s breathing would be better, but that wasn’t the case. His shaking was getting slower which she would take as a win, except for the fact that he seemed to be a little less responsive too. What the fuck would she do if he passed out here? Were ambulances even a reliable thing yet?

Okay, first things first, - her very basic medical training kicked in - is he having a heart attack? I mean, it was possible, with the lifestyle he led, but she also knew that Tommy Shelby was supposed to die somewhere in his 60’s from an overdose which made it not very likely. 

Even so…

“Tommy…” She sat cross legged in front of him. He didn’t say anything, but after a while his eyes widened a little looking at her. “Tommy, does your left arm hurt?” She said in the most soothing version of a commanding voice she could conjure. It took a few tries but he shook his head.

“Okay, that is good.” She rubbed little circles with her thumb in the back of his hand.

“I think you’re having a panic attack Tommy. I know it feels awful, but it will pass okay? I promise.” That had his eyes very focused on her, very fast.

“I know, hard to believe, but it will! Start by breathing with me.” She took a deep breath to demonstrate.  “We’ll breathe in for 5 seconds, hold it for 5 seconds and breathe out for 5 okay? Follow my lead.” It was dark and she couldn’t see his face very well in the gloom of the oil lamp by the door so Anna, on impulse, raised their clasped hands to her chest.

“Okay, come on, you can do it! In…” She counted to five “And out…”

At first, all Tommy produced back to her were hiccups. But she convinced herself that they were deeper hiccups every time and kept breathing, because what else was there? 

At some point, who knows when Tommy was breathing deep enough for her to venture a question. Ms. Johnson always said that simple questions were the best at this point (Panic attacks were quite common with time travel), but not simple enough that they could be answered with yes or no.

“Good, I’m not so scared that you will pass out now. Which is good. You wouldn’t want that here, now would you? By the way, where are we Tommy?” 

No answer.

“Come on dude, help me out here.” She squeezed his hand a little, still pressed to her chest.

“You know where” He whispered when she was about to ask again.

“Fine, tell me something I don’t know then.” She said before thinking, a genuine smile on her lips.

He kept silent for almost a full 10 minutes after that. No matter what she said, he wouldn’t budge. So she looked at her wrist watch and prayed. 

When he finally did move, it was to divorce his hand of hers and, with trembling fingers, light a cigarette

“Lizzie won’t come to the races with me anymore.” He took a drag and coughed a little. Anna took the cigarette out of his, now, slightly warmer hand. “I don’t blame her.” Tommy leaned his head back and Anna could have sworn that she saw watery eyes before they were beyond the fading light’s domain. 

Chapter Text

Tommy was at the top of the world and then he was at his own grave site. Clashing images and sounds dulled by the thumping of his heart, by pulsing pain in his chest. A sharp swell of sound. He almost got everything. Every fucking thing. He almost had Grace and the races and revenge, but he lost it. He lost control, he didn’t catch the signs, he allowed Lizzie to be hurt, he wasn’t there in time. 

It made him sick, his incompetence. He prided himself on fucking thinking didn’t he? When had that ever worked for his family, eh? His thinking had gotten them with a noose around their necks, hate around their eyes, bullets on their chests. Grace and John’s lives, Arthur’s sanity.    

Tommy wanted, — no —  needed a smoke but his hands trembled too much. His hands, he looked down, were pressed against his chest wrapped around another’s hand. Oh fuck, Anna! Another one he needed to help. Except that was stupid because he was in no shape to help anyone! Why did people keep asking him for that? Help. He had become a bumbling fool that couldn’t control his own thoughts for long enough to stop this endless attack! He needed more opium, or dope, or… something because this was going to happen again. Oh God it was going to happen again! When? Could he predict it? Could he fight it? His breath quickened.

Anna, right, pay attention Shelby the lady is talking to you! What does she want again? How long has she been calling his name? He did remember her asking something about touching… could she touch him? Yeah, that was it. Had he answered her? Well he must have, right? Her hand was in his so he probably said yes. Why would he though? Why would he allow her to see him in this state? Why was it that she always caught him in the most undignified of states, for that matter? 

“Tommy…” Focus ! His eyes found hers.

“Tommy, does your left arm hurt?” 

His arm. Did it hurt? How the fuck should he know that? He could barely feel anything beyond his hands on hers, it was almost as if his body wasn’t real. If the situation wasn’t real. That would be nice. It could be one of his dreams. He would love that, he could wake up from those. Oh God, was he saying this? Did he actually miss the nightmares? This was worse than he thought it would be. 

Anna still looked concerned, why was that again? Right, he owed her an answer. Did his left arm hurt. Why did that matter again? Was he dying? It had felt like he was, a while ago. Before this little room, but no… he knew what this was, it happened to Danny all the time right after the war. He would be convinced that he would die and then he would go fucking crazy and attack people on the street… Was that going to be him? This was going to happen again, he knew it was, it was useless to hope otherwise with his luck. His fucking luck!

Her hand moved in his. His left hand. That did hurt a little from clutching hers in a vice for so long… that was embarrassing, but also good because his arm didn’t. His chest hurt and breathing hurt and the light in his eyes hurt because he didn’t seem to be able to blink enough but his arm was fine. 

He shook his head at her. 

“Okay, that is good.” Her soothing voice came over him with the blessing of rhythmic circles on the back of his hand. How long had it been since he allowed himself any comfort? Ha, comfort! He didn’t deserve that, he almost killed his own family, he watched them get arrested in front of him and he did nothing to prevent it. He allowed Esme to take his nephews away, and he was right to do so because they were safer with crazy Esme than around him, he deserved no comfort. Comfort died with Grace.

And now, beyond a selfish arsehole he was a crazy one! He should never have taken the fucking vacation! Serves him right for listening to advice from fucking Arthur. Arthur, who married Linda of his own free will, that let her convince him to stop drinking and start repenting. There was no repenting, not for people like them. Or maybe it did, for his brother, Arthur was crazy but good hearted. A well trained dog, and he was its master. Every despicable action Arthur had taken after France was either instigated or allowed by Tommy and he prided himself on it. 

‘These days people tell me things without even opening their mouths’ Ha! And what do you tell them without saying anything eh Tommy? What do you tell them by freaking out after the starting shot in a race? Tommy Shelby, that took Billy Kimber out of his fucking throne in order to rule the fucking races that couldn’t attend anymore? Not without crumbling. What message was that?

“I think you’re having a panic attack Tommy. I know it feels awful, but it will pass, okay? I promise.” She had no right to promise things like that. It wouldn’t! The crisis might pass, and maybe he would breathe again but this wouldn’t go away. This awareness that he wasn’t infallible anymore was the norm now. How would he trust himself now? He needed to trust his choices to do what he did.

Sure, because that worked really fucking well for Lizzie last time she came to the races right? He was so sure of his timing despite the thousands of things that could go wrong, that could delay him. But he was sure! Just like he was sure Chagretta couldn’t get to Grace and he was sure he could manipulate the fucking king in time. Well, he had done that… But at what fucking cost? Was it really better to have saved Polly’s life if she almost lost her sanity in the time it took him to be infallible ? 

“I know, hard to believe, but it will! Start by breathing with me.” Right, breathing was a good idea. Except breathing hurt and he wanted to tell her that, but the words wouldn’t come, so he just... stared, desperate.  “We’ll breathe in for 5 seconds, hold it for 5 seconds and breathe out for 5 okay? Follow my lead.” Suddenly their hands were against her chest and she was showing him how to breathe. Tommy tried to follow.

Except of course he couldn’t. His breaths were short, painful, choppy and, judging by the headache forming behind his eyes, not very effective. She never stopped though. Anna squeezed his hands with intimacy that he hadn’t been able to feel in a long time. Wasn’t that pathetic? 

“Okay, come on, you can do it! In…” She counted to him “And out…” And Tommy wanted to hate her for it. He wanted to scream that he didn’t need her guidance for such a basic human function. Except of course, for the fact that he absolutely did, and the very thought of separating from her brought that fear again. The fear that his thoughts would never stop spinning. 

So he kept his eyes on her. What else was there?

Her eyes were very dark. Though that could be the lighting. Anna’s hair was usually loose around her face, a fact he only noticed because it wasn’t now. Now, her hair was pulled back in some style he couldn’t quite see. He could, however, see the wisps of the curling halo of strands around her face. That brought attention to her features, her light brown skin that glistened with drops of sweat, the wrinkles on her forehead that he had noticed on her face before, always coupled with a slight twist of her pink lips. Concern.

She was worried about him. Well of course she was, he would be worried too if he had crossed God knows how many centuries to get to a mess of a man like him. He could just send her away. Tommy knew Anna would never hurt him to get what she wanted, it just wasn’t her way. She...cared. Well, so much easier then, he could just send her away, wait for the signs of war and then… hide. He had no qualms about being a coward anymore. Tommy could give up a throne to survive a war.

He was going to send her away.

“Good, I’m not so scared that you will pass out now. Which is good. You wouldn’t want that here, now would you? By the way, where are we Tommy?” That brought him out of his line of thinking.

Didn’t she know? They were at the races right? It was the last place he remembered being, were they somewhere else? It was a very small, dark room, could they have been taken? Were they in danger this whole time? Wait, no, that didn’t make any sense. She wouldn’t sound this calm if they should be running… right?

“Come on dude, help me out here.” She squeezed his hand a little. So they were safe. Well, why the fuck should he answer it if they both knew then? 

“You know where.” He whispered. 

“Fine, tell me something I don’t know then.” Anna smiled, her voice sounded lighter. There was laughter in it. How could she laugh? A woman with the actual weight of the world’s destiny in her hands.

Should he tell her now then? Tell her to go? He would ruin that smile. If there was something Tommy knew in this life was what he wanted, and telling her to go was not it. He wanted to tell her why the races made him edgy. He wanted to explain to her how killing this man called Hitler might not feel like a win because the place they were in was his greatest accomplishment and he hated it. 

Tommy wanted her to be safe, away from him like he had kept Grace. He wanted to ask her about the future and was also terrified of learning exactly how inconsequential he was to her time. How little he had mattered. She had said that from the beginning. Something about how they still remember Al Capone but his name was forgotten. For the first time in a long time he wanted to tell something to someone but he was also finally facing his absolute inability to do so. 

‘Yeah but you know what solitude has brought you. What do you want, Tommy?’ he thought. He took his hand back from hers. If she was about to leave, he didn’t want her hand to pull away first.

“Lizzie won’t come to the races with me anymore.” He wanted the loneliness to stop. The cigarette he lit wasn’t warm enough. He needed more. “I don’t blame her.” Women, no, people seemed to never stop asking him to reveal himself. Well, let’s start with the worst thing he had ever done. 

Anna kept her silence.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?” He looked at her through the dimming light.

“No.” Her voice sounded a little… distressed?

“Why?” 

“Well because you just had a fucking panic attack, something I only have superficial knowledge over. I could make you worse just by asking you about  a trigger and I can’t even send you to a therapist because it will be at least another 40 years before they stop indiscriminately shocking people into oblivion” Her eyes were wide and her voice definitely lacked the calm it had had just a few minutes ago. “So, if you want to tell me something about yourself Tommy, by all means, I could use a friend and so could you, but I’m not forcing my own version of psychoanalysis on someone I know as little as you.

“My friends don’t last very long Ms. Strauss.” The last really good friend he had ever had, married his sister and then died. He gave up after that. You could only trust family because even Freddie had betrayed him in the end with fucking socialism. And, of course, there was Lizzie… Lizzie used to be his friend. 

“You don’t know what friendship is, Mr. Shelby” She said with laughter in her voice. 

“I just said that.”

“No, you said that your friends always die, but they aren’t really friends are they? You have enemies, puppets and family. Sometimes they are one in the same and that is why our little arrangement isn’t working all that well. You don’t trust me enough to follow-no, not even that- to listen to my advice.” Her hands went up and the small flame flickered with the movement.

“I’m not in the habit of arming my associates with trust Anna”

Her face came closer to his, her breath starting to feel familiar against his skin.“I thought you were a betting man” 

Silence fell between them and his heart was racing again, but this time it didn’t hurt. Minutes, or maybe seconds, ticked by at their impasse. 

“Trusting me is just as dangerous.” He said in defeat.

“I’m okay with those odds.” She moved back a little and extended a hand for him to shake and he did. What else was there to do?

“Good, now, why don’t we go to that fancy house of yours, have some tea and plan this assassination?

Chapter Text

Anna's POV

Tommy Shelby’s manor was filled with people to the brim. Jesse Eden’s happiness could be felt across the room and it made Anna smile to see that level of unadulterated excitement for the increasing rights of the working class. 

Anna expected to see the sullen faces of other factory owners upset over the concept of slightly more humane work conditions for their employees, she expected Lizzie’s eager expression while greeting all the guests, she was even numbed to the drugs making the rounds around the room with barely any attempt of discretion. 

The surprising part was Tommy’s face.

“I’m impressed.” Said Polly behind her. As Anna had come to expect from the Shelby family’s matriarch, Polly looked immaculate. Earrings dangling from her earlobes shimmered in silver to compliment her gorgeous dropped-waisted black gown.  

“With…?” Anna raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh don’t pretend you don’t know what a miracle that is.” Polly pointed with her wine glass-filled hand to the man across the hall. “I would like to know your secret.” Her dark eyes were stony, in contrast to her smile.

She couldn’t say: oh, nothing much, I helped the man through a panic attack a few weeks ago and now he doesn’t automatically throw all of my ideas out the window. So she went with a very unconvincing: “I don’t have a secret”

Tommy did look remarkably non-murderous on the other side of the ballroom, escorted by Ms. Eden. He wasn’t relaxed, of course, Tommy Shelby was religiously against such demonstrations of human nature; but he hadn’t antagonized anyone yet and was generally acknowledging Lizzie’s existence so… yeah, Anna was just as impressed as Polly was suspicious. 

“I told you, when we first met, not to lie to me girl.” 

Oh crap. For all of the Academy’s virtues, Anna would never forgive them for underestimating how fucking hard it was to not cause huge waves in the river of time when the people you were supposed to interact with, were also literal criminal masterminds raised to pick up on bullshit.

“I remember…” She said cautiously. Maybe she could be honest without telling the truth? Anna held Polly’s gaze and took hold of her right wrist, squeezing it gently. “Please don’t make me lie to you, Ms. Gray. Please.”

Before Polly could say anything at all, Tommy motioned Anna to come over. She gave Polly a last look of pleading and walked over to the man. She was absolutely not fleeing from that difficult conversation. Of course not!

Except that, yes she fucking was, and as soon as she could smell Tommy’s expensive cologne Anna wanted to keep running, this time out the door. Not because the cologne was bad but because by the time she could smell it on him she could also see his companions. 

Tommy was surrounded by a group of people and he introduced all of them to her but Anna could only absorb one name. Mr. Joseph Goebbels. The same man who had once said “Think of the press as a great keyboard on which the government can play.” and then subsequently demonstrated such a theory all too well. 

Up to that second, he was just another name on her strike list and she really never had too many feelings for the guy but history can’t really show your personality. Though she knew that that is usually how it works, it still seemed utterly bizarre to see one of Hitler’s best friends charm the group around her.

Goebbels made jokes that people laughed at and laughed at their version of humor as well. He agreed with people’s political views enough to make them like him but still maintained his own (disgusting) opinions in such a non-threatening way that by the end, a few of the men around her seemed to agree.

Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth and her heartbeat thrummed all through her. Too fast. She tried to act normal by being a productive member of the following conversation but a very famous image flashed on her mind every time Anna opened her mouth. A photo of the short man with the big nose laughing besides Adolf fucking Hitler. 

Would the most infamous dictator of all time be laughing over those same jokes someday? How could a monster look so normal? How could it be that that kind of evil didn’t show in somebody’s eyes? Didn’t rot their teeth?

Her stomach revolted.

Keep it together Strauss! She thought. But clashing images of concentration camps in history books and laughing drunk aristocrats fought for control in her mind. It was hopeless. Her breathing was loud to her own ears, at that point, Anna could only hope to sound natural as she excused herself from their company and fled to Tommy’s study to hyperventilate in peace. 

***

“Anna!” She heard Tommy’s voice a while later. It sounded like it wasn’t his first time saying it.

“Yeah?” She slurred a little. Her jaw hurt.

“Is this a… panic attack?” She raised her eyes to his bulging ones. He was crouching in front of the couch she apparently dropped on. Her blue dress was askew and her breathing was still a little fast but the worst of it seemed to have passed.

“Hum… no… that was a Collision.” Anna dropped her head back into her hands and groaned. “Would you get me some water?” 

He got up and she heard the sound of liquid hitting glass before the smoky scent of whiskey hit her nostrils. Anna raised her head just a little and saw Tommy crouched once again offering her a heavy dose of amber bliss. She drank it fast and set it down, too afraid to drop the glass in shaky hands. 

“It looks the same.” Tommy’s eyes frozen on hers to the point where she wondered if he had ever given her his full attention before this.

“Hum… yeah, probably feels the same too. I don’t have anything to compare it to so I’ll take your word for it.” Anna answered before thinking and he broke eye contact. Tommy hadn’t mentioned their time at the races once after it happened and she was supposed to take his lead on this… Too late.

“It happens to time travelers sometimes. It’s a biological response to Time catching up to me, I guess… I’ve never felt it before.” She forgot the braid she had put her hair in and messed it all up by trying to run her fingers through it. Tommy sat on the opposite couch and looked at her. More calculating this time.

He said nothing of course. Tommy Shelby asked his questions without actually talking all of the time.

“So… As long as you’re prepared for the time period you’re landing on, it's not a problem. I was expecting phones to be a sign of extreme wealth and every guy to walk around in a suit, for instance. So the shock wasn’t at all hard to handle. I barely even notice it anymore. But then you just casually introduced me to Joseph fucking Goebbels and my brain was forcibly reminded that I am not from here! So it tried to make sense of my surroundings and when it couldn’t, it shut down.” Anna explained as her hands started frantically unbraiding her hair. “I once heard about a Traveler that took the wrong wormhole and ended up 100 years before the intended date and died from the Collision of it.” 

“You told me to invite people from the German press!” She couldn’t hear frustration in his voice but something told her that it was there nonetheless.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t expecting you to be able to reach Hitler’s main propaganda man!” Her braid undone now, she ran her hands through it in satisfaction. “The goal was to meet someone who might know him so that…” and she trailed off because the obvious course of action hit her straight in the face. “…So that we could kill him.” Her fingers stopped working on her hair and she leaned her head back on the seat. “Fuck”

Silence fell between them, allowing the external sounds of dancing to come in. Anna slumped forward, elbows on her knees and studied the intricate weavings of the carpet beneath her feet, part of her brain trying to decide exactly how much money Tommy had spent on it. A futile attempt to distract herself from the nauseating decision she had just made.

“I’ll get Arthur.” 

She looked up and Tommy’s eyes showed no such conflict.

“No... I’ll… I’ll go get him.” Her eyes ran away from his gaze once more. But warmth surrounded her hands slowly and he applied soft pressure until Anna looked up again.

“You will go back into the ballroom, find a nice bloke to dance with, and wait for me to be done.” Tommy enunciated every word carefully. It sounded off in his Birmingham drawl. 

“I want to at least be there.” It was her responsibility, her plan, her vendetta. She shouldn’t hide behind the Shelbys like a coward. 

“No, you don’t.” Tommy let go of her hands, stood up, straightened his suit, and then walked out.

***

Tommy’s POV

Arthur was already high. ‘Polly is right, you really need to get him away from the snow’  his mind reminded him in the back of his head. Say whatever you want about Linda but at least she kept him away from the stuff. ‘She also kept him away from you’ his mind reminded him and he firmly pushed the thought away for later.

“Excuse my brother please,” Tommy said to the equally wasted Asian woman dancing with his brother. Arthur followed him diligently.

“What’s the problem, Tommy?” Arthur asked while following Tommy through the party in the direction of the kitchens. Servants jumped out of the Manor’s lord and in seconds the kitchen was empty of people. Arthur grabbed a canape from an abandoned trey and stared at Tommy’s pacing figure.

“I need you to do something for me, no questions asked.” Tommy stopped his pacing and pinned down his brother with a look.

“Yeah, what else is new?” Arthur shot for levity but landed on bitterness. Tommy couldn’t blame him.

“I’m serious Arthur. Can you fucking do this?” His voice was as still as the dead but his heart hammered inside his chest. This was a bad idea. This was necessary.

“You know you can trust me brother!” Arthur’s voice was somewhere between hurt and angry. 

Fuck he needed to plan. Tommy started pacing again. It was one thing to kill another gangster in his own party. Gangsters don’t call coppers for that kind of thing. He couldn’t have an international politician killed in his own party without facing the most dangerous kind of gossip. 

He also couldn’t miss this opportunity. 

“I have a plan.” Tommy started to walk back into the party and threw over his shoulder a rushed “be ready!” before the door swung closed.

The party was in full bloom. Drunk couples spun around under the chandelier Grace died under, groups of mothers and wallflowers watched them with mild disapproval and the fathers entertained themselves in the closest smoke-filled drawing-room.  Mr. Gobbles was there, and so was Mr. Blake.

Tommy slowed down his steps when he walked into the drawing-room. He smiled at the guests helping themselves to his cigars and mingled with them superficially while on his way to Mr. Blake in the back.

“Mr. Shelby!” Mr. Blake slurred slightly when he saw Tommy when he got close enough to hear. “What a lovely estate you have here.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Blake” Tommy forced a smile and extended his hand to shake the other man’s hand in front of him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” 

“Quite so. For a gypsy, you have exceptional taste in brandy.” The man raised his glass slightly. 

“Oh, us gypsies know a lot about alcohol Mr. Blake,” Tommy responded with narrowed eyes that the man didn’t seem to notice. “You know,” he added in a conspiratorial tone, “I keep the best in my study. Would you like some?” He added an insincere smile to the end of the sentence. 

Mr. Blake followed easily. Not being nobly born himself, you could always count on Elijah Blake to enjoy an opportunity to feel powerful. At that thought, Anna’s voice played in his head:

"White, rich men were raised to believe that they are above that. Whether or not you agree, Tommy. They will act accordingly.” 

Yeah, I know.

Anna wasn’t in his study anymore, but he also hadn’t seen her on the dance floor. Mr. Blake took an unoffered seat in front of Tommy’s desk and waited patiently for Tommy to retrieve the fictitious ‘better brandy’ from his small bar at the corner of the room. Really, the brandy in the party was of way higher quality seeing as he drank mostly whiskey, but very few men would be able to tell the difference if they were at the same level of drunkenness as Mr. Blake.  

Tommy offered the short, balding man a drink and sat himself down behind his desk. He watched Elijah’s performance of appreciating the mediocre drink without the usual amusement, merely waiting for the right time to say:

“We have a problem.” 

“Whatever do you mean Mr. Shelby?” The man slurred.

Tommy took a key out of his pocket and leaned forward to unlock the last drawer and took an equally locked wooden box from it. 

“I recently got a letter from Mr. Churchill himself,” he unlocked the box and took from it one of the opened letters that were inside. “He cautioned me about the possibility of my new bill attracting a specific kind of German politician.” Tommy extended the paper to Mr. Blake. 

“Is this…” Mr. Blake’s eyes got larger as he read. “That’s Churchill's seal.” The man went a little pale. 

“Yes, well, Mr. Churchill and I have a mutual understanding and he trusts me to make the right decision for my country.” Tommy didn’t have to feign the serious look that overtook his face. Fuck Churchill, but somebody else trusted him to do this and she was worried about more than England.

“But I... we… Are you telling me that he knew about our… association?” The redness from all the alcohol was definitely leaving his face. 

Tommy leaned forward a little. He did his best to look earnest while his insides churned with the urge to laugh at such a predictable reaction.

“He knows about your influence with the papers and what they publish, but Mr. Churchill likes to turn a blind eye to... incriminating details.” 

The man looked at the handwriting on the paper for a few more minutes and Tommy stared at the clock. Barely past midnight, so he had time, but he was still impatiently counting the seconds until Elijah looked up, squared his shoulders, and said:

“What can I do for my country Sergeant?” 

Tommy cringed.

***

Two minutes after Elijah left his study, Anna came in. Tommy was still sitting behind his desk, leaning back his head in intense machination. Like the first time he ever saw her, Anna was close to him before he even blinked once, she snatched the letter from the desk and examined it.

“This is a fake!” She stated.

“Obviously” He didn’t bother getting his head up from the chair’s headrest. From that angle, he could only see her frown lines and her dark hair. 

“How many?” Came her terse reply.

“Enough” He could be terse too.

“This is dangerous Tommy.” Exasperation and worry coated her voice. As if he didn’t know.

“More dangerous than somebody catching you with your ears glued to my study’s door?” He raised his head and stared at her dark eyes. 

“I didn’t.” She threw him a superior smile that was clearly meant to incite a reaction in him. He would not yield but… he did wonder.

“Let’s call it… futuristic magic,” Anna said as she walked behind his desk and tapped his shoulder indicating that she wanted access to the first drawer. From there she took a palm-sized… thing . It was thin, slick, and black, almost like a random piece of metal except it… glowed? Only briefly and then it was hidden in her purse.

This time he couldn’t stop himself and looked up at her, question ready on his lips but halted by the sight of Anna removing a small, white… stick? from her left ear. It had a rounded tip but it was all he had time to see before it also went into her purse.

“What..?” He started.

“Focus Tommy, one Collision is enough for one night.” Her voice was stern but there was a twinkle of victory in her eyes that made a long-forgotten urge stir inside him. Maybe he should focus.

“It pays to be prepared.” He took the letter from her hands and put it back inside the box. “Finn has a school buddy with really… versatile, handwriting. Quite artistic really. He can even imitate the royal seal.” He locked the drawer with the box inside it and got up.

“Versatile hun?” Anna chuckled and shook her head a little. There was mirth there, but there was also pain. She looked at her feet for a second and he was acutely aware of how close they were to each other. He could almost taste the salt of her unshed tears. Her lips pressed in determination she asked:

“Well then, where is Arthur? We should get going.” She took two steps back but Tommy held her back by the arm before she got out of reach.

“He’s already on his way.” 

“Well we need to hurry then, let go!” she struggled against his hold with her arms but her feet stayed in place.

“We’re not going” Tommy tried his best to maintain eye contact with her while he said it. Didn’t she know what he was protecting her from? 

“ Let me go, Thomas!” She pulled harder, engaging her whole body this time. Anna was strong but he didn’t move.

“This is my share of the deal Anna” 

“I should be there!” She said through gritted teeth.

“No.” Tommy insisted.

“You don’t own me, Tommy!” Anger boiled deep in her voice. Burned through the heat of her fingers. 

“Why come and bother me in the first place then, Anna?” He wanted to shout but murmured instead. 

The pressure of her resistance was growing too strong for him to ignore, so he gave into it. Tommy stepped forward and Anna lost her balance. He grabbed her by the waist and they were too close to each other again. It felt good to have her leaning on him.

“Why?” He allowed the sound to rumble deep in his chest. 

“Because I needed help, but I will not be as much of a coward as he is, Tommy!” Her voice was more despair than determination now. “I won’t just send somebody in my name to… to kill a man.” her voice broke.

“Save your bravery for a death that is worth your presence Anna,” he murmured again and adjusted their stance. They were both standing now in what might be called an embrace. She smelled like roses dipped in whiskey. 

“ Trust me .” The words came up, burning from deep within him. Even if a tiny voice inside laughed at the idea. Tommy Shelby could not be trusted.

Time stretched and bent around them, measured only by frantic heartbeats and racing thoughts. Minutes only mattered again when Anna wrapped her arms around him, tight. Tommy could no longer tell who was holding who.

Chapter Text

Anna’s POV

When the door opened, noise appeared to attack her all at once. The sound of rowdy guests laced with too much alcohol and too many drugs; music played by tired musicians, but most of all, the sound of reality.

“Tommy, the guests…” Lizzie Stark’s voice filled the room. her words halted midway through a breath, however. 

“Of fucking course!” She said after a very brief pause and, before Anna could turn to look, the sound of a slammed door took the echo of her hurt away.

“Fuck, I’m sorry…” Anna began the process of detangling herself from the man before her, but he didn’t let her go all the way. Just enough so that he could look her in the eyes.

“Don’t.” He stopped her next attempt at speech. “Stay here.” He said and left her for the second time that night. At least he wasn’t going to plan an assassination this time. And even if he was, there was a hint of... promise to his voice that made her actually want to obey. 

Of course, as soon as Anna was alone, her thoughts had full freedom to press down upon her. And they did. Timelines, rules, and overheard conversations swirled around in the whirlpool of guilt that was her mind. It wasn’t a Collision this time, there was no physical reaction. Nothing beyond a mild grinding of teeth. And yet, she didn’t regret it either. She had just ordered Joseph Goebbels’s death and she would’ve done it again without thinking twice about it. 

What the hell was Anna supposed to do with that information?

Had she always been capable of this? Or had she just crossed the invisible line into “monster” territory? Could she cross it back? 

No! The answer assaulted her mind immediately. Not yet anyway. Deeper lines would need to be crossed before she was done.

It is a horrible thing to find out who you really are. 

The door opened again and the sound of Tommy’s steps surprised her out of her thoughts. She dried a rogue tear running down her left cheek and turned to face him.

Tommy, still in his formal attire, came in with a tray of appetizers this time. Her stomach rumbled at the smell of salmon puffs bathed in garlic, a mild part of her mind trying to decide if it was immoral to eat at a time like this. The water suddenly flooding her mouth made it easy for Anna to drown her mind out though.

He said nothing, just locked the door behind him, and came to sit at the sofa, placing the tray on the coffee table between the two sofas. Only then did Anna notice that she was still standing close to the desk where he had left her. She moved to sit in front of him.

“You should set Lizzie free,” Anna said a few delicious salmon puffs later.

“I should eh?” His monotone voice replied a beat later. “I’m not keeping her hostage”

“Please, don’t pretend like you don’t know the power of those pretty blue eyes Tommy” She snorted and reached for another piece.

Tommy didn’t respond.

“Why keep stringing her along when it’s so obvious you will never love her?” Anna quirked her head at him, analyzing his carefully expressionless face. 

“Why not stop the first Great War and choose the second instead?” he asked, still as stone, but the lines around his eyes denounced distress.

Oh… that. 

“I was wondering when you were going to ask.” Anna looked down, a cold fist wrapping tight around her stomach. “An answer for an answer?” She looked up again.

“Ladies first.” He popped another appetizer in his mouth and leaned back on the sofa.

“Honestly?” His face didn’t even acknowledge the question. Anna took a deep breath and let it go all at once while keeping her eyes on him. “It wasn’t my specialty,” she shrugged apologetically. 

Tommy looked back at her with his steal stare, which would look vacant on anyone else, but on him, appeared to be better than most lie detectors. Anna didn’t feel like breaking through, so she let silence stretch between them to an uncomfortable level. 

And uncomfortable it was. The echoes of the party became more audible and Anna found herself looking at the immaculate bookshelf on the wall behind Tommy. Who thought it was a great idea to get him a copy of the constitution anyway? Even worse: who decided the constitution should go on the same shelf as Alice in Wonderland? 

“At this point, we’re just having a staring contest!” Anna ruffed out, throwing her hands in the air. And ignoring the fact that technically, no they weren’t because she had run away from his eyes as soon as her pride would allow it.

Tommy did nothing but blink. 

“What?” An awkward chuckle trying to mix with her voice.

“I’m waiting for you to finish.” The man had the audacity to sound polite! 

“Oh, so the king of monosyllabic answers and cryptic stares wants a complete response?” Anna snorted and popped another appetizer in her mouth. “Sorry buddy, I’m into this friendship we’re building here and all, but… we ain’t there yet!” She finished, mouth still half full of buttery bliss. 

His silence after that was, dare she say, mildly amused..? He still didn’t look willing to continue the conversation without prompting, so she said: “Your turn!”

“Children need a mother,” Tommy rearranged the silver cufflinks around his wrists.

“Bull-shit!” Anna enunciated each syllable, leaning back against the couch.

“You tell me why, then!” Tommy said. His voice was forceful, but not defiant exactly. It had a note of… expectancy to it. 

The sneaky bastard! 

Maybe he didn’t even notice what he was doing... though, it was hard to believe that Tommy Shelby was that clueless.

“You’re a big boy Thomas,” Anna smiled and resisted the urge to pat his hand. There was no need to be that patronizing. “I’m not gonna do your job for you.” 

Probably not the wisest choice of words Anna had ever made. Tommy’s muscles went rigid slowly. It seemed slow anyway. To her, the tightening of his jaw happened in slow motion followed by the deliberate raise of his shoulders and fisting of hands. Anna choked her own apology down. Tried to smooth her expression into neutral defiance.

They didn’t speak for a while, Tommy barely moved and Anna sorely missed the ability to scroll Instagram into oblivion. It was so convenient to not have to endure the awkward silence after an uncomfortable conversation. In the absence of distraction, her mind ran away from itself in another way.

“Can I ask you something though?” He only nodded his agreement. A very noncommital nod that didn’t promise an answer, but a nod nonetheless. 

After confirmation, her stomach overflowed in anxiety. Her breathing became quicker and she was startled by how quick tears manifested at the bottom of her eyes. She was able to keep them at bay, but not while looking at him, so she focused on the Constitution behind his head and Tommy became a blurry figure in her line of sight.

“Is this how it hap-” she halted to take control of her shuddering breath and tried again. “Is this how it happens?”

“Will I feel this bad about causing someone’s death every time I have to do it or… will it get easier someday..?” Two droplets escaped the corners of her eyes and she gave up on holding them back and allowed Tommy to be in focus again. “God, I don’t know which is worse!” a humorless chuckle escaped her. 

Tommy still took a long time to answer but it didn’t feel like torture that time. It also wasn’t embarrassing to cry about an assassination she wasn’t even sure had already gone down yet. Because Tommy looked at her with such infinite sadness that she could almost see the broken boy behind the gangster. He knew the price of innocence. 

Anna couldn’t say how long his reflection had lasted, but the sign that it was over was as clear as the whiskey glass he still had in his hand. His posture quickly changed through minute adjustments of shoulders and regulation of breath. 

“I hope it does get easier for you, never did for me.” Before her eyes, the gangster became the soldier and there was even some...affection? in his eyes when he continued, “you can tell me tomorrow” 

It felt like time to get up. So they did, but after that, she was standing there, just… looking at him for a few seconds.

“Your room is in the west week.” Tommy reached for yet another cigarette and turned his back on her towards the door. 

Anna was left alone but for the first time in the 20th century, she didn’t feel lonely. 

Chapter Text

Though her room in the west wing was perfectly lovely, sleep was not in the cards for her that night. Anna had always had a pretty healthy relationship with sleep but that night the proverbial pea would be under her mattress no matter what she did. 

So, she counted sheep, counted floor tiles, missed the wonderful escape of Netflix, and tried in vain to read the uninteresting books she found on the nightstand. It was all unsuccessful to pitiful degrees, and around dawn, the sun allowed her a good excuse to give up. Anna went down the stairs to a deserted golden mansion, aiming to find comfort in the kitchen, but finding a massacre instead.

Well, a sort of massacre anyway because there, leaning against the kitchen island was Tommy Shelby himself, coffee-stained white sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he tried in vain to wipe a seemingly multipliable pool of the dark liquid off the counter.

The scene was so absurd that Anna couldn’t quite take it all in at first. Though he was a 1920’s man, Tommy Shelby wasn’t useless in the art of cleaning. It's just that he knew that having other people clean after him was a status thing just as much as tailored suits were and he didn’t give up that privilege often.

“What are you doing here?” She asked expecting to startle him, but of course, Tommy showed no sign of being surprised.

“This is my house.” He answered in a monotone, not even looking up from his cleaning to look at her.

“Oh, I see… Sorry, I thought we were past the non-answers stage of our relationship.” Anna said, moving to a fruit bowl, picking up an orange from it, and moving in search of a knife to peel it. The moment of silence lasted between them up to the point where the orange’s skin was fully off, and Anna did not look up until the fruit was ready for consumption.

“Arthur is coming” his words hung in the air like a death sentence.

"Did he…" she swallowed, fighting against the urge to choke on the words. "Did he do it?"

"Arthur has issues with either discretion or distraction, but never efficiency," Tommy said, turning his back to her and throwing the rag on the sink.

Anna sighed and forced herself to eat an orange piece. The mundaneness of discussing assassinations that felt like murder while eating fruit inside a light-filled kitchen was deeply offensive and yet undeniably necessary if they wanted to keep doing what they were doing.

"We can discuss the next steps after breakfast in my office," Tommy said and Anna already started shaking her head.

"Oh… well, I was hoping to leave before Lizzie woke up actually.” Anna declared and Tommy raised a questioning eyebrow at it.  “I really don’t wanna impose on my boss's wife any further…” She took a step back, “...especially in her own house." 

“Do you wanna fuck me?” Tommy said. His words, sharp as steel knives made her bleed before she felt the sting. When she did feel it though, not one emotion prevailed over the other. Anna found herself confused not because she didn’t understand what had just happened but because her feelings and her eyes couldn’t agree on an appropriate response.

That question wasn’t all that foreign to her. Any girl who spent time on a dating app during her 20s - and Anna certainly had - knew all the variations of that question. In fact, she even had enough experience to appreciate that he was willing to ask instead of assuming, but the characteristic lack of emotion on Tommy’s face, as he asked such a question was the confusing part. The comment wasn’t lewd or suggestive in any way, he didn’t even seem to be particularly curious about the answer like the boys that just want to make fun of a girl for her crush. He was a businessman gathering information. Trying to unlock her like he did everyone else. 

Which of course meant that she had no ready-made answer to that question.

“Do you wanna fuck me?” was all she could think of and, in all honesty, she knew the sentence wasn’t delivered with all the poise she had wished for because it had no impact on his demeanor whatsoever. But it did lead to a stalemate between them both.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Anna,” Tommy said after a while and moved past her to the door. As she turned to watch him leave, she could’ve sworn she saw a smile on his lips.

            ***

The day after her first real foray into their mission wasn’t actually the date on which Tommy and Anna discussed their next step. Neither was the day after it. Or the day after that. Tommy had something happening with the borders of the Peaky Blinder’s territory and was spending a great deal of time out of the office doing one of the great variety of activities that he classified as “business”. He would never tell Anna which one he was about to partake in before he told her to clear his day.

On the fourth day, when Anna’s anxiety about not knowing their next step was reaching an unbearable degree, she was expecting Tommy to initiate such a discussion, but he once again left his office way too early for lunch.

“Please clear my schedule Anna, I have some business to take care of.” He said while walking towards the door, barely a glance in her direction. He was always polite with her in the office, even if he seemed to regard such politeness as a vile mask most of the time.

“All right. What kind of business?” She asked, for the first time in their acquaintance. Tommy stopped in his tracks.

“Excuse me?” He said, still facing the door.

“What sort of business Mr. Shelby?” she added a respectful address for good measure, though, considering his stance on the importance of politeness, it wasn’t likely to help much. Anna wasn’t intending to fight, but she was getting impatient.

Tommy turned to Anna and looked at her as if no stupider question had ever been uttered in his presence.

“Business that does not concern you,” he said in faithful imitation of his usual careless monotone voice, but there was something in it that invited the anxiety within her to turn into rage. Anna stood up.

“I think you forget who I actually am, Tommy” she spat his name, because, honestly, fuck honorifics. “I am not a mere secretary that you can turn away whenever it suits you. If, after what we did on the weekend, you don’t feel it's necessary to give me an explanation as to why the fuck you keep running away from a much-needed strategy session, I have severely misjudged your intellect.”

The coat he was in the process of removing from its hook went back to hanging on it and he turned his whole body towards her but that was his only movement. Something she kept forgetting about dealing with Tommy Shelby was that attacking him was always a stupid decision because he was the king of unresponsiveness. His blue eyes locked on her and began his signature stare down into awkward silence.

Angry Anna was not great at awkward silences. It made her thoughts spiral into ways of furthering the conversation, of starting to rant about the situation and her feelings about it endlessly and the struggle to stop herself from either ranting or just changing the subject altogether was almost physical. She could control it, usually, but the pulsing anger was making it too hard. And yet, Anna managed it for almost a full minute, a fucking feat if she was being honest, and when she was about to break, he did.

“I don’t remember promising you special treatment.”

“Your definition of special is truly astounding,” Anna answered.

“What makes you think that I would give you privileges that my own family does not have?” Tommy turned fully towards Anna.

“So many reasons! Do you want them in alphabetical order?” Her voice got higher and she hated herself a little for it, but it couldn’t be helped. Tommy made no indication of further intention to speak so she continued.

“I could you know, there are many, not the least of which that I am a human person and that should elicit some kind of basic respect from another human, but that is obviously a concept that you are way too sexist to grasp so I will go with the most obvious one,” she lowered her voice, “I came all the way from 2021, I have just survived a catastrophic pandemic that wiped out a lot more people in a year than you can actually comprehend. I gave up central heating systems, good antibiotics, and the fucking internet to come here and try to stop a war that will make a pretty big, if impersonal, impact in my lifetime but will actively protect your son from even worse terrors than the ones you witnessed in France. I subjected myself to dangers that you are not even aware exist and I know things that would actually sound like magic to your old-fashioned ears. Do you have any idea how infuriating it is to have to depend on your technology, your gender, and societal norms to do things that I could do sitting on my couch back home? Do you have any idea how fucking lonely it is to live in a world I don’t recognize?” she took a breath.

“So, this is my warning. You can get over your little trust issues and your blatant misogyny in the next 24 hours. Or, you can keep pretending like the little empire you’re building won’t get bombed out of existence in the next decade. Your choice.” Anna held his eyes in place. They betrayed nothing, of course, but she didn’t expect them to.

Without another word, Tommy Shelby turned around and left his secretary alone in the office one more time.

***

That night, at 11:45 pm her door was shaking. Light bulbs were expensive in the early 20th century and Anna was used to a pretty early wake-up call so by that time she was deep into the realm of sleep that Tommy Shelby clearly disapproved of.

Heart racing Anna quickly wrapped herself in her blue robe, unlocked the door, and barely had any time to duck out of the way as Tommy Shelby stumbled inside her flat.

“What the actual fuck Tommy? Did you decide to come take me out personally?” she asked in a mockery of a whisper looking at Tommy’s back, he had braced himself against her couch and seemed to be fighting for breath. “If you even think about vomiting on my couch, I swear to G-”

“Close the door Anna” his pained voice brought her short.

“Tommy?” Her voice was tentative.

“Please close the fucking door Anna.” It sounded like a plea. So she did, and as soon as the click could be heard, Tommy’s legs started to buckle.

Anna took 2 fast steps to prevent his fall and stumbled under his weight. She refused to bring them both to the ground though, so she strengthened her stance and started strategizing a way to move him to the couch.

“What happened Tommy?” She asked, and receiving no response moved to a more immediate issue. “You need to help me! We have to move to the couch, Tommy. Now!” To that he did respond, and so they shuffled their way to the front of the couch, where she had no choice but to drop him down into the cushions. He connected heavily with the soft seat letting out a barely concealed scream.

Anna immediately closed the drapes, lit a few candles and hurried to the place inside her closet where she kept her first aid kit. In a few seconds, she was back to his side, panting a little.

“Fuck Tommy,” she said as she took off his hat and started to get a glimpse of how deep in the shit they were. The only significant color on his face was the red blood, dry around his nose. Bruises seemed to be on their way around his eyes and cheekbones. That wasn’t the issue though. A beating that still left him conscious enough to go up 2 flights of stairs was probably not the biggest issue here.

“What happened Tommy?” He didn’t answer. “Where does it hurt?” She asked as her fingers checked the temperature of his clammy skin. It was cold. “Fuck, are you bleeding Tommy?” Her hands started to go down his neck and arms, looking in vain for the source of the problem, but it was only when she started to unbutton the vest of his 3-piece suit that fear completely froze her stomach.

“I think you’ve found it,” Tommy stated with a flat tone and promptly proceeded to pass out.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What the actual fuck am I supposed to do now? She asked herself, looking dumbly at the red cross in the box by their side.

Breathing let’s start with that. Both hers and Tommy’s were altered, she couldn’t do much about his, but she could do take a few deep breaths to collect herself, so she did. Next, she finished unbuttoning the dark grey vest and white shirt that were now bathed in blood. The blood was not yet dry, so he hadn’t been bleeding for very long, which was good, except that it also meant he had taken a beating not too far from her apartment. She could only hope he was not chased.

Next, the blood was oozing and not pouring another great sign, she had no idea what to do with a severed artery issue. Could she even do anything in that case? No matter, because the good news was over. The slash that went through the right side of his pants, right below the brown belt, implied that he had been cut and not shot at. Not having to guess if she could extract the bullet without causing more harm than good was a plus, sure, but a knife meant a possible infection in his future because cleaning their weapons was not high on the list of priorities for the knife enthusiast factions she knew of.

“Fuck,” she uttered again, but that was a problem for later, Anna moved to remove his pants, which was too hard to do because he was too damn heavy, so with a knife of her own she enlarged the whole already on his pants to see the damage.

There was not a lot to see with the shitty light from the candles she had on and knowing he might have been attacked close by removed all chances of her turning on the electric light, so she bloodied the white box looking for the headlamp, and attached it to her head. Once she could see, Anna reached for the white cloth inside the box and allowed Tommy to get it quickly bloodied. When the bleeding seemed to slow some, Anna got another cloth and reached for the bottle of absinth she kept inside the first aid box.

After soaking the cloth in alcohol Anna placed one hand over Tommy’s mouth and with the other she removed the blood-soaked cloth from his wound and pressed the other cloth on it. Tommy’s eyes flicked open and his scream became a grunt, arrested by her fingers.

“Shut up! We don’t want the neighbors’ attention Tommy!” She hissed at him more out of her own fear than actual anger. It worked, even if Tommy’s eyes were not fully focused, the fear of being exposed went deep.

“I’m, gonna go get some whiskey for you, can you keep pressure for me?” She moved his right hand to the wound. His pressure was weaker than hers of course, but it would do for a minute or two. The sound of liquid hitting glass was louder than his heavy breathing and she was thankful.

Tommy’s hands were too weak to hold the glass, so Anna cupped the back of his head on her hand and held the cup so that he could drink. He did, cursing a little under his breath when he was done.

“I’m gonna have to stitch this, Tommy” Anna said, looking at the wound that had almost stopped its bleeding at that point. “Do you want something to bite down on?” She asked, already getting up to get a dish towel from the kitchen. Tommy didn’t respond, he knew what was coming she guessed.

Anna came back with the towel and waited for him to open his mouth so that she could place it in. He reluctantly did. Trying to project confidence she did not fully process, Anna knelt before him and pulled a very modern, very precious, suture kit from her first aid kit. Thread in the curved needle, gloves on but her hand hovered over the wound, trembling yet paralyzed. The steps were crystal clear in her mind’s eye, she could picture each and every movement, but apparently had no way of actually making her hands move. Anna’s breathing got heavier.

“The Irish were trying to take the betting shop tonight...” Tommy’s breathless voice came to her. She locked eyes with him astonished, ready to ask him why he wasn’t biting down and preparing for the pain, but Tommy only nodded down to her trembling hands. “…that’s how I got this.” His right hand, clammy and cold, rested upon hers and moved it lightly down.

“I…” Anna started.

“They have been circling us for a while now…” Anna pressed the needle to the right spot and Tommy leaned his head back, looking at the ceiling. “…it’s why I was so busy this week.”

Anna made the first, crooked, uneven, and painful stitch.

Chapter Text

Tommy’s POV

"So, I’m good enough to be your impromptu nurse when one of those Irishmen pokes a hole in you, but not good enough for a warning that I might have to relearn how to sew tonight?” Anna completed the third stitch. 

“Have you ever learned before?” Tommy looked skeptically at the uneven line made by her cold hands. 

“I knew I would regret not making this hurt worse,” Anna said, but a smirk belied her words. “Will Lizzie mind another scar?” She punctured his skin again. 

“She’ll mind the location of it very much,” he added, and Anna stopped in her tracks to look up at him, then back at the wound. 

“You did not just make a sex joke right now.” The skeptical tone held mirth under it, and despite his better judgment, he decided to poke at it. 

“Didn’t I?” He kept his face blank and merely focused his eyes on hers. 

It was enough. Laughter bubbled out of her in short, contained bursts, immediately filling the room. 

“Why would you say that?” she said, still laughing. “I could wake up the neighbors, Tommy!” She lightly slapped him on the thigh. 

He didn’t answer, but his traitorous lips hinted at a smile. 

Tommy Shelby would never admit it, but he enjoyed people with free smiles—foolish, maybe, for laughing at a life so eager to mock them, but irresistible all the same. He liked making them laugh, just like he enjoyed other nice things a man couldn’t indulge in much—like love, coke, and whiskey. Tasting such unreachable joy was sometimes irresistible. 

“For real though, do you want me to call your house? She must be worried…” Anna said after managing to control her laughter somewhat. “I mean, I do have a very fancy telephone now; I should use it for something.” She smirked and brought her gaze back down to the next stitch. 

Tommy waited for the safety of the needle sting before speaking any further. 

“I can disappoint her myself tomorrow by walking in the door.” 

Anna was quiet while making the last stitch, her brow furrowed in concern. 

“Why are you married, Tommy?” she asked in a low voice, with eyes that ran away from his. 

“Is marriage no longer the basis of society in the future, Anna?” 

She snorted in response. 

“It is, though it was certainly losing its power the last time I was there.” She cleaned the skin around the wound and started preparing the bandage to go on top of it—not cloth like he was expecting, but something square and soft, secured with sticky white tape instead of safety pins. 

“You know that is not what I mean though, Tommy,” Anna continued after about a minute of thoughtful silence. “Why would you marry someone you clearly have no affection for? It can’t be for propriety’s sake; a man that marries a former whore doesn’t care about that, does he? So... why? It only seems to cause both of you constant harm, not to mention the children.” She finished the sentence by looking at him straight on. 

"Because I am an unredeemable bastard. Haven’t you heard?” His monotone voice snapped back at her even before he registered that her tone was more curious than judgmental. 

“Your life would be much easier if you stopped pretending to be cruel, Tommy.” 

“Pretending?” 

“Yes.” 

"You came into my house on a random Sunday morning, poured whiskey on my chest, and called me too weak to even orchestrate my own suicide properly. Then you questioned my parenting and character until I believed your insane story about being from another time. And now, while stitching me up from a violent encounter, you have the audacity to tell me I’m pretending?” he paused briefly to take a breath.  “Are all people from the future this inconsistent, Miss Strauss?” 

“I’m not talking about your business practices, Mr. Shelby,” she emphasized the title with profound sarcasm. “I am sure you are just as cruel and mighty as they say on the streets. I have also learned, through these months working with you, that you are that fearsome to others because you fear not being able to protect your family from the world. 

“Now, your methods of protection are certainly questionable, and your ability to hurt your family for selfish leverage is truly outstanding, so don’t mistake my statement for flattery because it isn’t. But as evil as you have shown yourself to be, Tommy Shelby, you are hardly ever needlessly cruel. You can always justify your own delusions into being a way to protect the family somehow, except for this. So, I’m asking: Why are you so determined to live in even more misery than necessary by marrying a woman you don’t even seem to like? Why subject your children to watching her in pain every time you reject her? What is the plan here?" 

By the last question, Anna’s voice was elevated, and true frustration was evident in her demeanor. 

Tommy stared at her, his thoughts unusually troubled. She didn’t flinch, holding his gaze, and he felt the weight of her silence. Why had he come here of all places? For healing? For patching up? He couldn’t decide. 

Anna had no visible clock in her living room, so he didn’t know how long they were quiet, staring at each other and controlling their breaths. At some point, he spoke. 

“She was my favorite whore.” He said, in way of explanation, but Anna’s expression, slightly angry and very frustrated, made Tommy attempt to explain better. “Grace died, and I was lonely, so I had Lizzie, and she had me. We fucked and I felt better, I gave her a job, and she felt better. And I was still lonely. Charles was growing up, and he was starting to realize he was lonely too, so he needed a mother.” 

“So very romantic of you.” Anna scoffed, but in a way that made him feel like she was a comrade, not a judge. 

“I was always known for my romance skills.” He deadpanned, and she smiled. 

“Why not marry for political gain though? If all you wanted was a mother for your children, you could’ve gotten the perfect princess of a disgraced lord or something and legitimized your place in the House of Lords. You might even have been elected earlier. Why her?” Anna asked, starting to gather her supplies and put them away. 

"Because she was my favorite whore," he said. Her dissatisfied expression pushed him to continue. "When she got pregnant… I thought she knew me. I thought she understood what to expect. With a political princess, I would have to pretend, and after Grace, I no longer have the energy for theatre, Anna. I thought she understood that what we had was all I was ever going to give. I thought I couldn’t disappoint someone that already knew me. Turns out that I can.” Tommy said, tapping his pants in search of his cigarettes, but they were not there. 

“You’re not smoking in my house. It’s bad enough that I have to breathe it around you and the Blinders all the time. I would have my house be a cancer-free zone, thank you very much.” She stood up. “I’ll make you some tea.” 

“Cancer?” 

“Yes. It will take a while for the scientists to confirm yet, but cigarettes cause cancer, and I have no intention of being at more risk of it than I already am living in this chaminé of a city.” Anna stated while filling the pot with water. “So, if I understand correctly, you married Lizzie after having a long relationship—well, a sexual and professional relationship—because you were worried another wife would ask things of you?” 

“Yes,” he said, yearning for a cigarette. 

“For a very smart man, you can be really stupid sometimes, Tommy,” she said, almost laughing. “So, you’re telling me that you offered wife status to a woman and expected her to still want to be treated like a whore? How can you be so good at human nature when your business is involved and suck so hard when it’s your life?” 

He heard her open the cupboard. “Let me ask you something: did you, by any chance, discuss with Lizzie the rules of this agreement of yours before you walked down the aisle?” 

“No,” he managed to say. 

“Well, no fucking wonder then!” 

The pot started whistling, and he had a bit of a reprieve while she steeped the tea and brought it back to him. 

“It’s hot,” Anna said while handing him the mug. 

“Thank you.” 

They blew their tea and drank in silence for a while, chamomile sweetened with honey. It had been ages since he had tasted—no, enjoyed—something so sweet. The warmth settled through him slowly, and Tommy’s muscles started to relax into the couch, the pain still there but easily forgotten. 

“Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this, because it might mess with your future even more, and I’m not supposed to do that, but… you will never manage the loyalty you so desire from her if you keep acting like this, Tommy. I don’t know much about your relationship, and I don’t really want to, but I do know women, and she will be much more likely to give you what you want if you’re honest with her. You don’t have to love her, but you can live in some kind of partnership,” Anna said, hazel eyes slightly widened, looking at him. 

“And I should take relationship advice from you,” he declared simply, lacking the energy to put any feeling behind the words. 

“You should take my advice about most things in life, actually.” She smiled into her teacup. “After all, I’m from the future.” Anna emphasized the word. “We are all advanced creatures beyond your capacity to understand.” 

“Polly told me you had to ask her how to work a stove last week,” Tommy responded. “How advanced can you be?” 

“I knew she would snitch.” She huffed with annoyance, but her light reddish-brown lips curved up slightly. 

Tommy and Anna shared the quiet for a little longer, and he took this time to take her in fully. 

Her dark, wavy hair framed her face in unruly disarray, her olive skin glowing warmer under the flickering oil lamp light. Anna’s almond-shaped eyes were news to him, though. He had never really paid them any attention, but now he did. They were inky black, with almost no change between iris and pupils. 

She had worked fast, if a little shakily. For some reason, he expected her to be much more familiar with injuries than she seemed to be, despite obviously being prepared to handle them. But even through her obvious hesitancy, Tommy felt confident she was able to handle it. Handle him. What an interesting concept. 

When the warmth of tea and whiskey reached his heart, Tommy’s eyes began to droop, head thrown back over the backrest of the couch. 

“I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket; give me a moment,” he heard her say, and a few moments later, the objects were placed on his lap. Still with eyes closed, he heard her start to step away. 

“Are you not tucking me in?” he said, with a smirk. 

“Only if you were on your deathbed, Tommy.” Came her response, and soon after, he heard her bedroom door close.