Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?" A deep, husky voice asked, completely butchering the words.

Madeline Clarkson laughed. She couldn't help it.

"Your accent is atrocious," she said, turning to face the man who had just done such a terrible job propositioning her. "Not to mention that it's entirely too formal for what you're trying to get at."

His eyes were a piercing, icy blue set above sharp cheekbones. He had the dark circles under his eyes and the hollow cheeks of most of the soldiers. His full lips were quirked up at the corner in a barely there smirk.

"You're an odd one to be criticizing my accent, what with being so far from home. What's an American girl like you know about French?"

His tone was teasing, but there a challenge in his eyes that Madeline couldn't ignore.

"I'm a United States Signal Corps Operator facilitating communication between the French and American commands," she told him, straightening her back and angling her chair so he could better see her uniform. "If my French is good enough to translate command decisions, I think it's good enough to know when I'm being propositioned poorly."

"I didn't realize I was dealing with a professional," he said with a grin, but there was genuine respect in his eyes. "How would you recommend I improve my technique?"

Madeline smiled, charmed in spite of herself.

"Well, it's normally polite to start by at least introducing yourself."

"Thomas Shelby," he said, holding out his hand.

"Madeline Clarkson," she said, reaching out and shaking it firmly, instead of letting him bring it to his lips as he had clearly planned.

"Enchante, mademoiselle," he said with an amused twist of his lips, butchering the phrase once again.

"You're doing it on purpose now," Madeline told him, laughing. "You have to be."

He pulled out at chair at the table where she had been sat reading, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He held one out to her in a silent question, and she shook her head. He shrugged and lit the cigarette, putting it to his lips and taking a long drag before sprawling in his chair.

"Do I?" he asked, a brow quirked.

"Yes. I refuse to believe anyone is actually that awful."

"Not all of us can be signal corps operators who get to practice every day. Some of us are stuck in trenches or down in tunnels."

And with that they were off, Madeline's book entirely forgotten in favor of her companion. They traded stories back and forth, Madeline talking about her duties as a signal operator while Tommy discussed exactly what the tunnelers were meant to accomplish.

She did not speak of the thrill she felt at the switchboard, the excitement of not knowing what the next moment would bring. She did not speak of the crushing weight of the responsibility her position gave her, knowing that men's lives hung in the balance of the information she passed on, that one slip of the tongue could mean death for dozens, hundreds. She didn't speak of the frustrations she felt as a woman, looked down upon and coddled because of her gender while she sat there and did a job men could not do.

Those confessions would come later.

He did not speak of the terrible tension in the tunnels, knowing every moment of digging could be his last, waiting for the walls around him to crumble and throwing him into a desperate fight for his life. Of how after so long under ground he forgot what the sun on his face felt like. Of the wonder and terror of the soldier's minute.

Those confidences would come later.

Instead they talked of routine in glib tones that betrayed nothing of the ordeal of the everyday. Madeline talked of learning French at her grandmother's knee, and Tommy spoke of his gypsy mother, of learning romany in the home. They traded words and phrases back and forth with good-natured mockery. When the sun began to set, Madeline inquired of his plans for the rest of his leave.

"Drinking, fucking, and fighting," Tommy replied. "That's all a soldier ever does on leave."

"So you just come up to girls and ask them if they want to fuck? How's that working out for you?"

"Pretty well," he said with a grin, taking a drag from his cigarette.

Madeline arched her brow.

"We're having a conversation, aren't we?" he said with a smirk.

Madeline sat back, surprised, before considering his words. They were having a conversation. Quite an engaging one. One that wouldn't have been nearly so lively if it weren't for how it had begun. Madeline would have simply done her best to brush him off politely before returning her attention to her book. Instead, here she was, nearly an hour later, enjoying herself immensely.

"I can't decide if you're incredibly clever or incredibly lucky," Madeline said at last.

"I like to think of it as efficiency," he said. "Sometimes I get a yes. Usually those are times I have to pay for, but I don't mind. I still got what I was after. Sometimes I get a huff or a slap, but that saves time too. I'm not a particularly subtle man, and if a girl can't handle that its good to know it up front," he took another drag from his cigarette before looking Madeline dead in the eye. "On occasion, if I'm lucky, I'll get an interesting conversation with a pretty girl."

Madeline gaped at him before shaking her head and laughing incredulously.

"Clever isn't the right word," she told him, after some serious thought. "Though I've no doubt it's true. No, I think you're more cunning than clever, Tommy."

"Cunning," he said slowly, making a show of mulling the word over. "You think me deceitful, Madeline?"

"You haven't lied to me," Madeline said. "You haven't had to. A conversation never goes anyplace you don't want it to go."

She'd noticed it as they'd been talking. Sometimes he did it so skillfully she didn't even notice the conversation had been redirected until they were too far into the topic for her to get back without being obvious. Other times, he would derail things completely with a comment, taking them off in an entirely different direction. Or would give glib, evasive answers.

"I don't mind," she said, when he stared at her, blue eyes assessing. "In fact, I've found it rather invigorating, trying to keep up."

His lip twitched as the corners of his eyes deepened.

"I'm not the only clever one at this table," was all he said in response, genuine admiration in his eyes.

Madeline flushed. Him calling her pretty had made her feel slightly flustered, but it wasn't often that she received a genuine complement on her intelligence. Tommy only smirked in response, his admiration morphing into appreciation as he continued eyeing her up, making her skin heat even more.

Before she could figure out how to respond, the clock chimed and Madeline turned to look, cursing quietly in French when she saw the time.

Tommy let out a low chuckle, and when Madeline shot him a look he smirked in response.

"That one I know," he said. "What did the clock do to deserve such abuse?"

"I need to be getting back," Madeline said. "Curfew is in fifteen minutes."

"May I walk you?" Tommy asked, rising to his feet as she pushed her chair back.

Madeline considered it. She wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to Mister Shelby. And for all that he had been very upfront about what he was looking for, she hadn't enjoyed herself this much with a man…well, ever. None of her dates in the states had ever been anything close to this much fun.

Tommy Shelby was a handsome man. Just looking at him had butterflies buffeting her stomach, and his low, raspy voice sent shivers down her spine in the best possible way.

She was tempted in a way she never had been before.

Walking with him would ensure she could not give into that temptation, as it wasn't as if he would be able to come into their lodgings. But it would leave the door open.

By the time they arrived where Madeline was staying, Tommy had secured permission to call on Madeline again the next day. His leave would last six days, and Madeline had vowed to do her best to secure a pass to be out after dark for as many of those days as possible.

"You still haven't answered my question," Tommy said as Madeline turned to enter her lodgings after they had exchanged goodbyes.

Madeline felt herself flushing, but she met his gaze head on, her spine straight.

"Learn to ask properly, Mister Shelby, and we'll see."

With that, she turned and made her way through the door, his laughter echoing through the air.

Chapter Text

Madeline scrubbed at her hands, determined to remove the dark smudges left by the nickel-coated pegs of the switchboard. Her eight-hour shift had stretch to almost ten, but Madeline hadn't felt the exhaustion. All she'd felt when she'd been relieved by the male operator on the night shift was excitement.

She took a step back and examined her reflection in the mirror scowling at a stubborn streak of black across her hairline. Madeline rubbed at the spot doggedly with her bit of soap, resolved that the only marks on her face would be her freckles. If she couldn't have makeup, she would at least be clean.

Convinced that the mark was at last gone and that her long, unruly chestnut hair was still tucked back in its chignon Madeline stepped away from the mirror, straightening her uniform skirt and giving herself one last inspection. Satisfied with what she saw, she made her way out of her room in the hotel that served as both their quarters and headquarters in Paris. Ethel Blake, one of the other eleven operators who had stayed on in Paris was waiting there for her.

Securing a pass to be out after dark hadn't been too difficult, for all that they'd only been working for a few days. Still, upon its issuance, Madeline had been reminded of rules and expectations around her conduct as a member of the AEF, including the fact that she would need a companion.

Ethel had volunteered. At thirty, Ethel was considered old enough to have the good sense not to be taken in by any of the pretty words of soldiers on leave, and to be certain that Madeline wasn't as well.

Given Sargent Major Thomas Shelby's silver tongue, a part of Madeline was nothing but grateful for the chaperon.

Ethel stood in the lobby, her own uniform somehow managing to look even more proper than Madeline's own, as if wrinkles dared not exist in her presence. Still, for all that she was a stern woman, she gave Madeline a warm smile when she saw her, a hint of childish excitement in her eyes.

"Madeline," Ethel greeted her as soon as she approached.

"Ethel," Madeline answered with a small smile.

Madeline didn't know Ethel as well as she had known some of the other AEF recruits. She'd mostly spent her time in training with other girls her own age. Still, now that there were only eleven of them station in Paris, it would do her some good to get to know her fellow operators.

"I have to say, I'm excited to start getting to see the city," the woman told her. "Was there anything in particular you had in mind?"

"There's a music hall I heard some of the French operators talking about before they left," Madeline told her, the half truth sliding off her tongue with an ease that surprised her. "I was hoping to hear some local music."

"And perhaps a dance or a drink or two with a one of the local boys?" Ethel asked shrewdly with an arched eyebrow.

Madeline did her best to keep her face impassive, but she knew the blood rushing to her cheeks had betrayed her.

To her surprise, all Ethel did in response was laugh.

"There's no shame in it, Madeline," she said, reaching out an placing a hand on Madeline's shoulder. "You're young, and there's nothing wrong with wanting to enjoy yourself. I had my fair share of adventures, when I was your age."

Madeline tried hard not to gape at her. Ethel had been a french teacher at a prestigious private school in New York City before enlisting in the AEF, and it had showed in her demeanor. To imagine the woman as anything other than prim and proper was nearly impossible.

Catching Madeline's look, Ethel grinned at her.

"Shocking, I know. I'm not going to stop you from enjoying yourself Madeline. I'm not quite the wet blanket you imagine me to be. Still, you are young. I'm just there to be levelheaded on your behalf."

Madeline didn't know what to say to that, and settled instead on giving Ethel a relieved smile. Clearly her chaperone was not going to be nearly as stifling as she had feared. Still, for all that she seemed much more open-minded than Madeline had given her credit for, Madeline still didn't think it was a good idea to tell the other woman that she was planning on meeting someone at the dance hall.

It had been made clear that they were expected to refrain from socializing with men while abroad, be they local or enlisted. As much as it had grated on some of the other younger girls, Madeline hadn't faulted the AEF for the regulation when she heard about it. They weren't there to socialize, they were there to serve. Given their jobs, even a moments distraction could mean life or death.

It was the same reason they hadn't allowed women with husbands or family abroad to enlist. Madeline could understand their point, to some degree, but this rule hadn't sat as well with her. Women weren't so easily distracted as all that. If their families were doing their part, wouldn't that just motivate the woman to work harder?

Either way, going on a date with a British solider could be grounds to send her home. As charming as Tommy was, he wasn't worth that.

What Madeline had told Ethel was true. She had heard some of the french operators they had come to replace talking about the dance hall as a good way to spend an evening. That Madeline arranged to meet Tommy there should she managed to secure a pass for the evening was something Ethel didn't need to know.

Still, she gave the other woman a smile.

"Thank you, Ethel. I love music, and I love to dance. I'll try to keep you from having to work too hard at being levelheaded," Madeline said with a smile.

"I've no doubt," Ethel said. "You've a good head on your shoulders, Madeline. You wouldn't be here if that wasn't the case."

The only response that Madeline could give without feeling dishonest was a smile.

"Now, where is this dance hall you're so eager to visit?"

The dance hall was crowded. The war didn't seem to have detracted from the business at all. If anything, business seemed to be booming. It was bustling, full of men in uniform and women in stylish dresses. Madeline stopped short just inside the doorway, letting the sound of the music wash over her. She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. There were few things in the world she loved more than music. Dancing was simply an extension of that love.

Ethel's hand on her arm dragged her attention back to the present, and she found the other woman smiling at her.

"Shall we grab a seat at the bar?" Ethel said. "I'm sure it won't take long for someone to ask you for a dance."

"You too, I would think," Madeline answered with a smile. "You're no old maid, Ethel."

Ethel laughed.

"That's kind of you to say, Madeline. But no, I've no intention of dancing. I've two left feet. Tonight, I'm happy to listen to the music and watch. Besides, I need to be able to keep an eye on you."

That hadn't even occurred to Madeline, but suddenly found herself somewhat disappointed that she couldn't count on that source of distraction.

The bar was remarkably crowded, for it being a weeknight. The uniforms, from a plethora of different services and countries, shed a great deal of light on the situation. Still, it didn't take much effort for she and Ethel to find a place to perch against the counter.

Their uniforms got several curious looks, but it didn't stop men from approaching them. The barman hadn't even made his way over to them before a doughboy had approached Madeline with a cocky grin.

"Now, what is a lovely lady like you doing dressed like that in a place like this?"

Madeline didn't fight the urge to roll her eyes, although she was careful to do it where only Ethel could see. She'd come here to enjoy herself. To drink and dance and pretend, even for just an hour, that there wasn't a war on, for all she knew that would be impossible. There was no reason not to try and keep herself entertained until Tommy finally showed himself.

Still, it was difficult not to compare the man to Tommy and find him lacking. Tommy had been much more crass, but much more charming. He'd respected her, respected what she did, for all that his gaze and words had been far from proper. This man clearly found the idea of women in uniform absurd.

"AEF regulations require that we wear our uniforms at all times," Madeline said stiffly. "Even while on leave."

"A lady soldier," the man said, an incredulous smile on his face. He let out a loud guffaw. "As I live and breathe. Tell me, what is it a lady solider does?"

The smile on his face was far from respectful. He clearly thought the entire enterprise a joke. Thought Madeline herself was a joke as well.

"A lady solider," Madeline said with a tight smile, "doesn't drink with men who disrespect her profession."

The man visibly started at that, shock slowly blooming into affront on his face. His shock morphed to anger.

"Now listen here, you..."

A hand on his shoulder cut his him off, and a familiar figure in clad in a khaki uniform stared down at him with hard eyes.

"I believe the lady asked you to leave," Tommy said.

Despite being several inches shorter and remarkably slighter than the man before him, Sergeant Major Shelby somehow dwarfed the man beside him with his presence.

Madeline could only see his face in profile, but whatever was lurking in his eyes was enough for the doughboy's face to lose color.

"Run along now," Tommy said, loosening his grip on the boy's jacket.

The boy left, with one last, long, bitter look over his shoulder.

Tommy slipped into the place the man had occupied next to Madeline at the bar with a smarmy, satisfied grin.

Madeline absolutely did not find it charming. She was far too annoyed for that.

"I had it sorted," she told him shortly.

"I've no doubt you did," Tommy said, a smirk on his face. "You are a lady soldier after all."

"C'est bien vrai," Madeline said firmly.

She was proud of her uniform, proud of the work she was doing here. Important work that she was uniquely qualified for. Anyone who thought she didn't belong could go hang.

"I was simply providing support," Tommy told her, gesturing towards the barkeeper. "We are allies, after all."

Madeline rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep a smile off her face.

"May I buy you a drink? One soldier to another, of course," Tommy said.

"I suppose," Madeline said, doing her best to sound put upon, for all that she knew the smile on her face would give her away.

"And your friend?" Tommy asked, staring past Madeline to where Ethel sat. "Shall I buy her a drink as well?"

Ethel gave Tommy one of the most incredible unimpressed looks Madeline had ever seen. No doubt one perfected during years of dealing with the classroom antic of unruly and overprivileged teenagers.

"No thank you," Ethel told him. "I prefer to keep my wits about me."

Tommy turned back to Madeline, raising one eyebrow expectantly as the barman appeared.

"Gin and tonic," Madeline told him.

While it was far from uncommon for her to take Gin straight, she knew that the war would have put a strain on the supply of alcohol here in Paris. And Madeline would need her head on straight tonight, she was certain.

"Whisky for me," Tommy told the barman, placing a handful of coins on the bar, "And a gin and tonic for the lady."

The man turned away to start preparing the drinks with a small nod of acknowledgement, and Tommy turned his attention back to Madeline.

"So," Tommy asked. "What is it a lady soldier does? Other than rebuff the advances of those who don't take her profession seriously."

"Today," Madeline said, "I was disconnected by the French operators no less than three times for bothering them too much. I was apparently being too rude in my effort to communicate essential information."

"Well," Tommy said, smirking and pulling his hat from his head, "thats's the French for you."

"Still, I'm doing better," Madeline said. "I've finally got the proper tone down that will keep me from being disconnected for rudeness. Now I only get disconnected for asking to be put through too many times. The longer we're here, the more I understand why General Pershing thought we were needed."

"I know I, for one, am grateful for the necessity," Tommy said, just as their drinks arrived.

He picked up his glass and raised it, prompting Madeline to do the same.

"To the French telephone system," he said with a grin. "And the American operators putting it to rights."

Madeline smiled, clinking her glass against Tommy's own before taking a long sip of her drink, watching with interest the way Tommy's throat moved as he swallowed.

He downed his drink in one swallow before placing the glass on the counter and turning to face Madeline fully.

"Do you dance, Ms. Clarkson?"

"Only when asked properly, Mr. Shelby," Madeline answered pertly, echoing her words from the night before.

Tommy's grin made it clear that he had made the connection.

"Voulez-vous danser avec moi, Madeline?" Tommy asked holding out his hand.

"Your accent is still atrocious," she informed him.

"Then say yes, or I'll keep butchering the French language in an attempt to convince you," Tommy told him, expression completely serious but amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Well, we can't have that," Madeline said with a smile, placing her hand in his. "I'm not certain my poor ears could take it."

She glanced over her shoulder and gave Ethel a questioning look. Ethel gestured Madeline towards the dance floor with a smile, but her eyes were hard and fixed intently on Tommy.

Tommy guided her out to the dance floor, tugging them almost to the center of the crowded floor so that they were surrounded by other people. His grip on her hand shifted as his other hand found its home in the small of her back before tugging her slightly closer than was necessary. Madeline felt herself blushing, and the damnable smirk on Tommy's face at her reaction wasn't helping any.

Madeline closed her eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over her and trying to ignore the warmth of Tommy's hand at her back. When she opened them again, Tommy was staring down at her with an expectant look.

A small nod of her head, and they were off.

"Your chaperone is entirely too competent for my tastes," Tommy informed her as they moved across the dance floor.

Madeline laughed.

"Given that I imagine you're exactly the sort of man she's supposed to keep her eye on, I think that simply means she's doing her job properly."

"And what sort of man is that?" Tommy asked her, holding his hand out and up, guiding Madeline into a twirl.

"The kind of man who propositions a girl badly before even knowing her name," Madeline answered with a grin as he gathered her close once again.

Tommy smirked in response.

"Perhaps," he said. "But only if the girl is exceptionally pretty."

Madeline rolled her eyes.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Tommy."

"I disagree. Flattery got you here after all, didn't it?"

Madeline shot him an unimpressed glare.

"You think all it would take is some pretty words and you'd have me right where you wanted me, Sergeant Major?"

"If that were the case, Ms. Clarkson, our conversation yesterday would have gone very differently," Tommy said, his mouth twisted in a wry smile.

Madeline let out a small huff of laughter, unable to help herself. Tommy was so upfront as to be abrupt about his desires, but Madeline found his forthrightness refreshing. There was no need to guess exactly what the Sergeant Major was after, but she also didn't have to doubt the rest of his words. Tommy said what he meant, and nothing else. Still, for all he was being crass, there was nothing rude or condescending about the way he made his desires known.

"Are you disappointed?" Madeline asked.

"Quite the contrary," Tommy said with a sharp smile.

Madeline felt herself blush at that.

They passed two more dances in much the same way before Madeline caught sight of Ethel standing at the edge of the dance floor giving Madeline a sharp look.

She wasn't the only one who had caught sight of Ethel. Tommy was staring at the expression with an unreadable expression on his face before he turned his attention back to Madeline.

"Your fire extinguisher is giving me a dirty look," Tommy said. "I haven't even done anything to deserve it."

"Not today," Madeline agreed. "Not yet."

Tommy looked down at her with an arched brow. "Yet, Madeline?"

"Yet," Madeline confirmed.

"Is that an invitation?" Tommy asked. "Or a comment on my character?"

Madeline honestly wasn't sure. She wasn't certain she wanted to find out, either. Perhaps it was time to take a break from dancing, give her head a chance to clear.

"I'm a bit parched," she said, coming to a stop as the music did.

Tommy gave her an unreadable look, but didn't press her.

"Another G&T?" Tommy asked her. "Or something else?"

"One more," Madeline said, after only a moments hesitation. She would switch to water after this. She did have work in the morning.

Tommy made his way over to the bar, leaving Madeline alone at a table on the edge of the room. She didn't stay that way for long, however. Tommy's back had yet to disappear from view before Ethel was sliding into the seat across from her. She gave Madeline a long look, brow arched.

"You said I should enjoy myself," Madeline offered defensively at the expression on the other woman's face.

"Yes. By dancing with lots of different young men, not spending the entire night with the same one."

"I'm just being friendly," Madeline offered weakly in her own defense.

Ethel's sharp look was answer enough.

"You may be being friendly," she said. "But he's got something other than friendship on his mind."

Before Madeline had a chance to respond to that, there was a hand on her shoulder. She turned, a smile on her face, expecting to see Tommy returning with her drink. Instead she found herself greeted by a doughboy. He was several years younger than Madeline, no more than eighteen, and there was an expression of such stark hope on his young face that Madeline felt herself softening in spite of herself.

"Excuse me, Miss, but if it isn't too much trouble, would you care to dance?"

Madeline bit her lip, pondering how to answer, but the man continued before she could make a decision.

"It's just...you're from back home, aren't you? It's been a long time since I've had a chance to talk to a girl from home."

His homesickness was obvious, and Madeline felt her heart go out to him. While she was working, it wasn't uncommon to hear a solider give thanks to god when he heard her voice on the other end of the line. Part of that was frustration with the French system, she knew, but at least as large a part, if not larger, was that the sound of her voice reminded them of home.

He was just a boy. Just a boy who missed home. Could she really begrudge him a taste of that?

"I'd be delighted to dance with you," Madeline said, giving him a smile.

He beamed at her in response, and how giddy the small gesture made him broke her heart.

They spent the entire dance trading stories of back home, the poor boy hanging off her every word. Not smitten, simply enthralled by the sound of her voice, the sound of home. Madeline couldn't begrudge him that.

When the song concluded, she took a step back from the solider, offering him a small smile.

"Thank you," the boy said simply, his expression showing how grateful he had been for here company.

"It was my pleasure," Madeline told him.

And it had been. She was happy to be a little piece of home to these soldiers. Still, if it was this bad for the doughboys, what must it be like for the British troops, who had been fighting this war not for months, but years? Or the French, who never had to feel homesick because it was there home that everyone was fighting to defend?

How long would Madeline herself be here before she saw the smog-filled skyline of Philadelphia again?

It was this melancholy thought that occupied her as she made her way off the dance floor towards the table she and Ethel had commandeered. The sound of shattering glass had her head jerking upright, thoughts forgotten as her heart beat in her ears.

Madeline twisted her head around towards the source of the noise, dire scenarios running through her head. None of them had come to fruition, thank God.

A fight had broken out at the bar. Given the patrons currently in the dance hall, she knew it wouldn't be long before the fight spread even further. Soldier's on leave weren't likely to leave their friends in the lurch. Given the alcohol and high spirits, it wouldn't be long before the entire thing split itself along lines of nationality.

Madeline watched the scene begin to unfold in horrified fascination. Two men turned to three turned to twelve. Men made their way into the fray, shouting in various languages merging together with the sounds of breaking glass and fists hitting flesh.

A hand wrapped around her arm and Madeline whipped around, pulling herself out of the grasp, fists coming up automatically.

Tommy was standing there, a bottle in his hand and a bruise forming on her cheek. He quirked one eyebrow at her before holding out his hand in silent invitation.

Madeline barely gave it any thought at all before she placed her own hand in his.

For a short moment, Tommy smiled, something mischievous and bright that stole the breath from her lungs. Then he was off, tugging Madeline gently behind him as he wove his way through the fighting crowd with the ease of someone accustomed to violence.

Madeline followed him, laughter escaping without her permission as they zigzagged around brawling men in uniform. She couldn't help herself. The entire situation was just too ridiculous. Here she was in a foreign country, being dragged by a man who was practically a stranger to god only knew where. Madeline didn't think she'd ever had more fun in her life.

Tommy tugged her through a door that she was certain patrons weren't supposed to enter and then up a seemingly endless series of stairs.

"Where are we going?" Madeline asked as they rounded yet another flight.

"Someplace with a little privacy," Tommy called over his shoulder, clearly not winded at all. "I started that fight to get you away from your chaperone after all."

She should have protested. Privacy was the last thing she needed with a man like Thomas Shelby. But his hand was warm, and his rough voice sent shivers down her spine in all the best ways. The thought of being alone with him evoked none of the feelings it should have - merely a nervous excitement and a burning curiosity about what would come next.

The sound of the fighting below had been reduced to almost nothing when they finally reached the top of the last flight of stairs. Tommy reached out and turned the knob with his free hand. He pushed it open to reveal the expanse of the Paris skyline as he guided Madeline onto the roof of the dance hall.

Madeline stepped out after him, looking around with awe. The moonlight had transformed the building and streets which she found charming in the daytime into something almost mythical. Even bearing the wounds of a war that had stretched on for years, Paris was still magnificent.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, enraptured by the view before her.

Tommy said nothing in response, but he gently tugged Madeline further onto the roof. Unlike many of it's neighbors, the dance hall's roof was flat, and so Tommy was able to lead her to the very edge before offering her a seat on the edge of the ornamental ledge that decorated the edges of the building. Madeline gave it a cautious look, but it seemed sturdy enough. Satisfied, she swept out her skirts as she lowered herself onto the carved stone.

Tommy sat beside her before holding out the bottle she had forgotten he was holding in silent invitation.

"What is it?" Madeline asked.

"I haven't the foggiest," Tommy answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "Just grabbed the closest thing off the shelf once the bartender was distracted."

"You mean you stole this?" Madeline asked.

"Stealing is the least of my sins, Miss Clarkson," Tommy told her, his lips quirked in a smile.

The smile didn't reach his eyes. They were like ice, hard and serious. For all he had tried to pass it off as a joke, Madeline could tell from his eyes that he meant every word.

He was warning her, she could tell. But it wasn't just a warning, it was a challenge.

"This is the sort of man I am," his gaze seemed to say. "Can you handle that?"

Madeline honestly wasn't sure. She wasn't sure she could be sure, without knowing more. Without knowing Tommy better.

"What are the others?" Madeline asked, grateful that her voice managed to stay light.

Tommy pulled the top from the bottle before taking a long pull from it.

"It might be easier to list the sins I haven't committed," he said, his smile a hard, sharp thing.

Madeline took a deep breath.

"What is it you do, then, Tommy?" Madeline asked. "That puts you in a position to sin so often?"

Tommy's smile grew even sharper.

"Oh," he said in a conversational tone of voice, "I do bad things."

Madeline believed him. Something about his voice, about the way he held himself, made it impossible not to. The man next to her, for all he had been charming and intelligent, was dangerous. Or at least he could be, under the right circumstances. Madeline was certain of that. She could see it in his eyes, alone here on the rooftop.

If she had any sense, she'd be afraid.

Madeline had never been a very sensible girl.

She took a deep breath before reaching out and taking the bottle from him and taking a long swig. She started coughing almost as soon as the alcohol hit her tongue. Rum. Or at least it was supposed to be, she assumed. It was the foulest thing she'd tasted in a long time.

"It's awful, isn't it?" Tommy said as she hacked.

"I haven't had anything this vile in years," she managed to force out once she had enough air in her lungs.

Tommy reached out and took the bottle from her, taking another long swig.

"I haven't been quite as lucky as you," Tommy said. "You take what you can get, down in the trenches. Still," he said, taking another sip, "that'll teach me to steal without looking."

Madeline reached out and snagged the bottle from him. Steeling herself, she took another drink. Her face screwed up as the rum burned down her throat, but she didn't cough or gag.

Tommy smirked at the expression on her face, his eyes dancing with amusement at her predicament.

"So," Madeline said, fortified by the rum, "which ones?"

"Sorry?"

"Which sins haven't you committed?" Madeline asked.

Tommy arched his brow at that. Madeline gave him a long stare before taking another sip of the rum. She was determined.

"Well, I've broken all of the ten commandments save one," Tommy responded. "I'll leave it to you to sort out which one that is."

Madeline took another swallow before passing the bottle back to Tommy and staring at him intently.

She knew he was a thief, and his uniform meant that he had certainly taken lives. He didn't strike her as a religious man. That left honoring his mother and father, committing adultery, bearing false witness against his neighbor, and coveting his neighbor's wife.

He'd mentioned his mother yesterday with nothing but fondness, had talked of his brothers and his sister. Had mentioned that his aunt had all but raised him. But in all that time, he hadn't mentioned one word about his father.

Perhaps Tommy thought his father didn't deserve honoring.

Tommy was a cunning man. That much had become clear during their conversation. And for all that he hadn't had to lie to her yesterday, she had no doubt that he could be deceitful when he felt it was required to get what he wanted.

"So?" Tommy asked, meeting her gaze.

"Either adultery or covetousness, though I still haven't worked out which."

Tommy's eyebrows raised momentarily in surprise, and Madeline felt a flush of satisfaction at having been right.

"You think me above those particular sins?"

Madeline let out a brief laugh, the alcohol making her giddy.

"I think you haven't had the opportunity or the inclination," she told him. "You don't strike me as the type to honor someone else's vows."

The words struck a cord in her, their truth resonating. Tommy had respected her refusal the day before, hadn't pressured her beyond asking again for an answer. But if she had said yes, she was certain that a ring on her finger would not have stopped him from accepting. Wouldn't have stopped him from asking in the first place.

Would he treat any of his own such vows with casual disregard?

"You know me worrying well, for how short we've been acquaintances," Tommy said, his mouth hard, blue eyes penetrating. "It should concern me."

"You're a dangerous man, and you make me want things I shouldn't," Madeline said, answering his honesty with her own. "It should concern me."

"Does it?" Tommy asked, leaning closer, eyes intent.

"No," Madeline said softly. "Does it concern you?"

"No," Tommy said, reaching up with one hand and brushing his knuckles along her cheek. "I find that I like being known."

"I think I'd like to get to know you," Madeline said, surprised to find that the words were true. Tommy was dangerous, yes, but he was clever and interesting. He looked at her and saw someone beautiful, someone clever, a fellow solider - someone to be respected. She'd never had anyone see her that way before.

"What sort of things?" Tommy asked, fingers brushing along her cheek again, the warm of them seeping through her skin and into her veins.

Madeline took a deep breath, mind made up.

"Things like this," she told him, staring into his captivating blue eyes.

Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

Chapter Text

Madeline stared up at the ceiling of her hotel room. She knew she should sleep. She would have a long day tomorrow, one that was certain to be as hectic as all the ones that had come before it had been. The alcohol that she had had to drink that night certainly wouldn't do her any favors.

Every time she closed her eyes, she felt Tommy's lips pressed against her own, felt his tongue slide slick and sensual against hers, the phantom heat of his hands in her hair and against her hip. Cigarette smoke and whiskey and musk filled her nose, and she felt firm muscles clad in khaki under her hands. Felt the sharp nip of teeth against her ear and along her neck as she wrapped her fingers in short, silky hair.

Madeline reached out and yanked her pillow over her head, trying to smother the thoughts through sheer force of will.

They'd had perhaps five minutes alone on the rooftop before they had to return to the dance hall to ensure that they wouldn't be missed.

Apparently, five minutes was all it took for Tommy Shelby to worm his way completely under her skin.

They'd separated at the bottom of the stairs, Tommy pressing one last, lingering kiss to her lips before releasing her. Madeline had left first, melting into the chaos of the crowd. It had taken another ten minutes for Madeline to find Ethel, even while looking for her. She had to hand it to Tommy - he apparently had quite the head for strategy.

Ethel had been concerned when they had finally reunited, but not suspicious. By mutual agreement, they left immediately afterwards and returned to the hotel. They had bid each other goodnight in the lobby, and Madeline had thanked Ethel for taking the time to chaperone her. Ethel had thanked her for making chaperoning Madeline an easy task. After that they had parted ways, and Madeline had been staring at her ceiling ever since.

Tommy Shelby was a problem. A very serious problem, and Madeline wasn't certain what to do about him.

Five days. Five days left of the Sergeant Major's leave. Five days to figure out what to do about the problem of Tommy Shelby.

Getting another pass to be out after curfew was highly unlikely, especially given the way the evening had ended. The American Expeditionary Force took the safety of its female officers seriously. The women mostly found it stifling. Madeline personally found it slightly insulting. She was here to do her bit, not remain coddled and well out of the line of fire.

When she'd told this to Tommy up on the roof, he'd given her a serious look.

"Do you want to see me again, Madeline?" Tommy asked.

Madeline's answer was to lean forward and kiss him again, being certain to keep it short so there was no risk of either of them getting carried away.

"Yes," she said once she'd pulled back.

"Then you'll see me again," he'd said simply, staring at her intently and stroking his thumb along her cheekbone.

Madeline believed him. And as curious as she was about how exactly he planned on making that happen, she refrained from asking. After seeing his plans in action that evening, she felt that ignorance in this one situation would perhaps be for the best.

If he told her, there was a chance she'd change her mind. And Madeline didn't want to change her mind.

Madeline flung her pillow to the other side of the room and sat up in bed heaving a heavy sigh. Clearly sleep was not on the agenda any time soon. She might as well use her time constructively. She was behind on her correspondence. Might as well take the time to catch up while she had it.

She owed a letter to her parents, to her brother, and to Uncle Jimmy. She decided to start with the latter.

Jimmy wasn't really her uncle. At least, he wasn't related to her by blood. He was a regular customer at her father's bookshop who'd become a friend of the family, though it was an open secret that he had a soft-spot a mile wide for Madeline. She'd known him since she was seven, and had called him Uncle Jimmy since she was eight.

Uncle Jimmy was the reason she could even be here at all. As part of the process of enlisting, all the girls joining the signal corp had been required to pay for their own uniforms. The uniforms totaled a staggering 300 dollars, a hefty some by almost any standard.

Her father made decent money as a dealer of rare books and proprietor of a bookstore, but the war had slowed his business to a crawl. The U-Boats had made crossing the ocean a dangerous venture, and after the sinking of the Lusitania her mother had forbidden her father from traveling until the war had concluded. Madeline was glad that she didn't need to worry about him on his business trips any longer, but it meant that things were tight at home.

All of Madeline's own money had gone into the tuition not covered by her scholarship to Smith. While she was certain she could get a refund for the semester, the money wouldn't arrive in time to help cover the cost of her uniform.

Her brother, William, had leant her one hundred dollars, which she knew was twice what she could afford. It had resulted in a five minute argument before he'd finally tackled her. After another three minutes of tussling the way they hadn't since he was thirteen and she was ten, he finally pinned her on the living room floor before shoving the money into her mouth.

"Either take it or choke on it, but regardless I'm not touching it now that it's covered in your spit.

Madeline kneed him in the stomach before sitting up and spitting out the bills, ignoring the way William was curled up on the ground clutching his stomach. She stared down at them, not quite able to believe she was that much closer to her goal.

"You really mean it?" Madeline asked.

"Yes," William groaned, sitting up still clutching his stomach. "Anything to get you out of here, Jesus."

Madeline had flung herself at him again, making them both fall to the ground again, though this time wrapping him in a hug.

Still, even after William's generous contribution, she still only had a third of what she needed. Madeline had been sitting in her father's bookshop, trying to come up with a solution when a familiar voice had broken through her contemplation.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Madeline had looked up, a wide smile breaking over her face. A burly man with an impressive mustache and sharp widow's peak that was beginning to recede stood above her, a smile on his face.

"Uncle Jimmy!" Madeline had crowed, delighted before standing up to wrap her arms around him. "I thought you weren't coming for another month at least."

"Your father had something special come in for me," Jimmy said in his nasal Brooklyn accent. "Besides, I wanted to be sure I saw you again before you went back to school."

Madeline felt her face fall at that, unable to stop herself.

"Alright," Jimmy said, staring at her critically, his already furrowed brow wrinkling even further. "What was that?"

Madeline thought about lying, but she needed did need advice. Besides, she wouldn't get away with it for long.

"You sit down and you tell your Uncle Jimmy all about it," Jimmy said.

He pressed gently on Madeline's shoulder until she sat again before taking the seat across from her.

"What's wrong, Madeline?" he asked her seriously.

"Last semester, at school, people from the Bell Telephone company came to campus recruiting. Not for the company, but for the American Expeditionary Force," Madeline said, focusing on the fabric of her skirt she kept winding around her fingers. "They were there talking to the French professors specifically. They need women, you see. Bilingual women who speak fluent french. They're apparently in desperate need of competent telephone operators in France to help with communication."

"You aren't a telephone operator," Jimmy pointed out. After having known her for twelve years, he no doubt had a very good idea of where this was going. Still, he wasn't scoffing at the idea, or giving her worried looks the way her parents had.

"They're in desperate need of help with quick and accurate translations between the American and French commands to make coordination possible," Madeline told him. "Fluency is much more important than experience. They've promised to give us all training so that we can properly operate the equipment."

"We?" Jimmy asked, raising his eyebrow, picking up on the key word.

"I applied," Madeline told him, raising her head at last, meeting his gaze firmly. "I applied, and I was accepted. I want to do my part, to do what I can to help. This is something I could be very good at."

Uncle Jimmy gave her a wide smile, pride obvious in his gaze. "Congratulations, Madeline."

"Thank you," she answered him with a bittersweet smile.

"So? What's the problem? Your parents? You know I could have a word with your father if you needed me to."

"Nothing like that," Madeline said, shaking her head. "They aren't thrilled, but they understand why I feel like I need to do this, and they're supporting me. No, the issue is the uniform."

"The uniform?" Jimmy asked with an arched brow.

Madeline explained the situation as best she could.

"I know I'll have the money eventually. The school is bound to refund me for the semester, given that I won't be attending. But I need the money now, if I want to be able to make the first ship out," Madeline said, not bothering to conceal exactly how frustrated this made her.

Uncle Jimmy laughed at that.

"Well, that's simple enough to solve," Jimmy said with a smile.

"Really?" Madeline asked, sitting up straighter, eager to hear whatever her uncle might have to say.

"I'll give you the money," Jimmy said, as if offering two hundred dollars on a moment's notice was nothing at all. "On one condition."

"Anything," Madeline had said eagerly.

"You have to write me while your away. At least once a week, if you can manage it."

It was that promise Madeline was keeping now, for all that she refused to think of it as payment. The money William and Uncle Jimmy had given her would be nothing more than a loan. She would pay them as soon as she could from the wages she earned doing her work here. Still, she was glad to write to the man who was like a second father to her.

Dear Uncle Jimmy,

I'm writing to you from Paris, where I have been stationed along with ten of the telephone operators. The rest of our group were sent elsewhere, though I can't tell you where. There are going to be a lot of things I can't tell you, moving forward. I hope you'll understand.

The passage over was more exciting than I would have hoped. We were aboard an old White Star liner which had been converted to a
troopship. Between the lifeboat drills, the threat of German U-boats, three nights of sleeping in our clothes just in case the worst should happen, and the more mundane seasickness, I found it a somewhat trying voyage, but I persevered. You know how determined I am to do my part, and how upset I was when I learned the Red Cross and the YMCA wouldn't accept anyone who was under twenty-five.

We then spent the week in Southampton before we finally made our ways across the channel to France, where we were nearly rammed by a French cruiser.

The last month has been the most exciting time of my entire life. I feel as if I am finally living an adventure instead of just reading about one.

Still, the reality of adventure is somewhat more grim than I had anticipated. Our first night here, the building next to our hotel was hit by a shell and destroyed. The hotel maids ushered us all down to the basement. I chose to ride the banister in my nightgown rather than take the stairs, joined by several other women. We were too tired and too new to have the sense to be afraid. I didn't really understand what had happened until I saw the rubble the next morning.

My admiration for the French people grows every day. This is not just an adventure for them, not just them doing their bit. This has been their lives for the past four years. They are fighting to keep their homes, persevering to defend their country. I find myself proud to help them in that endeavor.

For all I admire the French, I must make a special exception for their telephone operators. I felt rather guilty the first day when we replaced the women who had been manning the lines before. But then I spent the day dealing with the French lines, disconnected for rudeness or forced to wait, as if I were just making idle chit-chat instead transmitting vital military information. Between that frustration, and all the soldiers practically weeping with joy when they heard my voice, I no longer felt guilty by the end of the day.

The work is long, and it is hard, but I have never felt more satisfied or fulfilled in my life. I am here, I am making a difference. I can't describe how proud I am to be here, in my uniform, doing my bit. Thank you so much for making that possible.

I'll try to write again soon.

All my love,

Madeline Clarkson.

Madeline finished her signature with a flourish before she put down her pen and reread the letter. It was honest, or at least honest enough to satisfy her uncle. There was nothing there that would give the censors pause. Still, there was no way she could discuss what was weighing most heavily on her mind at the moment. She would never in a million years have discussed it with Uncle Jimmy in the first place. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't. Not with her letters being read.

There was no one should could have talked to about the situation with Tommy, even if her letters hadn't been read. Perhaps if Louise and Raymonde were still there, she could have asked them. They were the girls closest to her in age. Louise was the same age as her, Raymonde a year and a half younger, not that any of their paperwork would bare that out. For all that the AEF did not have the same age restrictions as the YMCA or the Red Cross, all three of them had though it wise to err on the side of caution.

But Louise and Raymonde had gone on to Chaumont, leaving Madeline on her own in Paris, the youngest of the operators stationed there by nearly three years. None of whom Madeline was close to. No one Madeline could talk to about the fact that she couldn't sleep because of the memory of a kiss.

Couldn't sleep because Tommy Shelby had asked her a question two days ago, and Madeline still wasn't certain what her answer would be.

Chapter Text

Madeline staggered off her stool the next day, feeling tired down to her bones.  The long-distance calls had been particularly trying, and would have been regardless, but the fact that she only got three hours of sleep the night before had made the entire experience hellish.  By the time she was finally relieved, she was dead tired and irritated enough that she was ready to strangle someone with her line.

She made her way out of the room that served as AEF headquarters down to the hotel restaurant.  It served as the mess hall for the AEF personnel stationed in the hotel as well as being a red cross canteen.  It technically still served it's original purpose as a restaurant to those few guests that the hotel had, but those were few and far between.  The hotel was all but an army base at this point.

All Madeline wanted was to suffer through her wartime rations before heading back up to her room and collapsing into her bed, hopefully too exhausted to be tormented by thoughts of a certain Sergeant Major in the Corps of Royal Engineers.

Instead Madeline walked into the restaurant and saw a group of four men in very familiar khaki sitting at one of the tables.  It wasn't terribly uncommon for soldiers on leave to stay in the hotel. In fact, they were some of the only true patrons at this point.  Tourism tended to take a nose dive during wartime.  One of the figures was horribly familiar.  Tommy Shelby, and three of his unit no doubt.

"Speak of the devil," Madeline muttered under her breath, shaking her head. 

She could sneak by him, she thought, if she really put some effort into it.  There were a few other "Hello Girls", as the papers had so playfully dubbed them upon there arrival, sitting in a corner of the hotel restaurant.  She could use the other girls as cover, hide her uniform amongst theirs.  And she had been meaning to try and get closer to them.

"Madeline Clarkson!" A familiar voice called, and Madeline let her head fall forward.  She'd hesitated just a little too long, apparently.  She'd been spotted.

Madeline turned and shot the table a dark look.  Tommy gave her a smirk in response before gesturing her over.

For a long moment, she considered ignoring him.  But she'd gotten to know Tommy fairly well over the past two days, and she had a feeling he would simply follow her to wherever she decided to sit.  Better to just make her way to him, she thought.  Avoid the spectacle he was certain to create.

Huffing out a heavy sigh, Madeline made her way over to the table where the four of them sat.  She stood at the end, crossing her arms over her chest and giving Tommy the most unimpressed look she could manage.

"Why, what a surprise, running into you here," Tommy said, smirking at her unrepentantly.

"I'm sure," Madeline answered, her voice as dry as she could make it.

"I told you we'd see each other again," he reminded her.

"You did," Madeline answered, finding herself softening somewhat without meaning to.

Tommy pulled out the empty seat beside him, before looking back and forth meaningfully between Madeline and the chair.

Madeline arched an eyebrow at him.

“Come on now, don’t be shy.  We don’t bite,” one of the men with Tommy said.

“Tommy does,” Madeline told him, deadpan, recalling the feeling of his teeth nipping against her neck.

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then the three men who had come with Tommy burst into laughter.  Tommy gave a small snort and rolled his eyes, but his lips were quirked as he took a drag from his cigarette.  The man exhaled the smoke and smirked.

“I didn’t hear any complaints about that yesterday," Tommy said. "If anything, you seemed appreciative of the fact."

Madeline rolled her eyes, but her lips were moving upwards without her permission.

"I need to go get my rations," Madeline told him, fighting a smile. "I'll deal with you when I get back."

"I look forward to it," Tommy said, smirk still in place.

It wasn't charming. It really wasn't.

Madeline turned and made her way towards the kitchen, allowing the smile she'd been fighting to bloom across her face. That man was dangerous for her self control. Still, Madeline had to confess that she'd never had quiet as much fun as she did when matching wits with Sgt. Major Shelby. Talking with him was exciting, on a number of different levels.

If she didn't want to get carried away, she'd need to slow down and keep her wits about her.  The trouble was, Madeline wasn't sure she didn't want to get carried away.

By the time she'd received her rations, things were no clearer.  All the time had done was give time for a sensation to build low in her stomach, warm and achy and leaving her on edge in a very familiar way.

Taking a deep breath, Madeline did her best to shove her feelings aside.  They were a distraction she couldn't afford now.  Madeline wanted to make her decision with as clear a head as possible.

Then she looked up and saw blue eyes fixed on her, and Madeline knew that a clear head had been a foolish hope.  Not when Tommy Shelby was looking at her like that.  Those cold blue eyes that somehow manage to blaze with desire.  They followed her across the room, watching every step she took with hunger.  Between those eyes and the intent, intense expression on his face, all of his attention fixed on her to the exclusion of all else, every step she took towards him, every step that closed the space between them, the tension mounted higher and higher.

Tommy reached out just as Madeline passed by him on her way to the empty seat at his side.  Nothing untoward or unseemly.  Just the brush of his hand across the back of her own as she sat.  The brief moment of contact was all it took to bring the memories from the night before rushing back.

The feel of Tommy's hands on her, the press of his lips against her own.  Not just the sensations, but the feelings, the moment.  She'd felt as if she were drunk.  Not on the terrible, terrible alcohol Tommy had stolen that they'd drank together under the stars.  No, she'd been drunk on Tommy.  The feel of him, the taste.  The rough sound of his laugh that she'd managed to coax out more and more the longer they were alone.  More.  All she wanted was more.

Madeline swallowed and sat down, staring at the food in front of her to try and gather herself before giving it up as a lost cause.  With Tommy right next to her, with Madeline painfully aware of every scant inch of space separating them and how easy it would be for all of them to disappear, there would be no ignoring this.  The tension between them was far too strong for that to be a possibility.

Madeline wanted to know Tommy.  The man she'd gotten a glimpse of the night before had been a complex one.  Intelligent and dangerous, yet surprisingly gentle with her.  Gentle, yes but not coddling.  He didn't treat her as if she were fragile.  He didn't indulge her, he met her as an equal.

Madeline had never met a man like him, and she doubted she ever would again.

"Tommy," one of the men sitting at the table said, and Madeline looked up, blushing, suddenly remembering their was a world outside of the man beside her.  "Aren't you going to introduce us to the lovely lady?"

Madeline rolled her eyes, but allowed herself a small smile.  

"Are you boys blind?" Tommy drawled.  "That's no lady.  That's a solider."

Madeline couldn't deny the pleasure that coursed through her at the words, fight down a pleased blush.  Instead she turned and gave Tommy a warm smile before turning to face the rest of them, straightening her uniform and holding her chin high.

"Madeline Clarkson of the American Expeditionary Force," she said.

The men exchanged grins, and Madeline just stared at them, eyebrow quirked, daring them to say something.  It was an attitude she was used to, and one that she was willing to confront head-on.

"Is something funny, gentlemen?"she asked them, her voice soft.

Those who knew her would have taken it for the warning it was.  But these men, these boys were strangers to her, and they didn't know any better.

Madeline would teach them.

"What exactly does a lady soldier do?" One of them asked, a disbeleiving grin on his face, echoing the question from the night before.

"A lady solider," Madeline said with a tight smile, "A lady solider saves lives, for all that she isn't allowed on the front.  A lady solider finds a way to get the Americans and French coordinated.  A lady solider posses skills that men do not, and she uses them in service of her country.  A lady soldier is a soldier, and is treated like one.  The only difference is that her uniform has a skirt.

"Never underestimate a woman," Madeline said, staring each of the men down.  "We can do everything men can do, but backwards and in heels.  And we're always armed."

One of the men sorted.  

It seemed they wanted a demonstration.

Reaching into her hair, Madeline pulled out the hatpin that went through her chigon.  It was long and filed to a sharp point.  Madeline held it comfortably in her hand, twirling it through her fingers before tilting it so it caught the light just right.

"The last time a man tried to put his hands on me without my permission," Madeline said, thinking back on the streetcar ride in question with a small wrinkle of nose, "he needed stitches by the time I was done with him."

The men all fell silent, staring at her with wide eyes.

One of them laughed, but it wasn't unkind or condesending, the way it might have been before.  His eyes were filled with respect, and he was shaking his head.  Freddy, she thought.

"What happens to a man who has permission?" he asked, a mischievous light in his eyes.

Madeline gave him an amused smile.

"You have to ask your Sargent Major Shelby about that," she said simply before reaching out and taking a demure sip of her drink.

The table burst into laughter, and Madeline grinned, pleased with herself.

"Christ, Tommy," Freddy said.  "You may have finally met your match."

Tommy said nothing.  He'd remained silent throughout the entire exchange, watching the proceedings with a growing smirk on his face.  He reached out and rested his arm along the back of Madeline's chair.  Not quite touching her, but she could feel the heat from his arm along her back regardless.

It was an answer, loud and clear.  Once that had been communicated without saying a word.

Still, Madeline turned to him an arched an eyebrow.

"You were remarkably quiet," she told him.

He smiled at her, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"You had it sorted."

Madeline laughed, filled with warmth.  Tommy thought enough of her to defend her honor, as he'd demonstrated so aptly yesterday.  That he respected her enough to let her fight her own battles made her feel as nothing else had.

Meeting his eyes, Madeline leaned back her chair, pressing her back along Tommy's arm.  After a moment's hesitation, it wrapped around her shoulder, and she settled back.  The warmth and weight of his arm wrapped around her wasn't stifling as she had feared.  No, it was reassuring.  Comforting, even.

Tommy Shelby may have met his match.  Madeline Clarkson was certainly beginning to feel that she had met hers.

Madeline sat on her bed with her head in her hands.

Tommy Shelby. Twisting her into knots with his blue eyes and rough voice and strong arms.

Tommy Shelby, who'd spent all of dinner with his arm around her, his foot draggin up and down her leg beneath the table in the most distracting way possible.  A way that sent shivers up her spine and had left her feeling on edge the entire time they were eating.

Tommy Shelby, who challenged her.  Tommy Shelby who teased her, who flirted with her boldly even in front of his childhood friends.  Tommy Shelby, who made her brash enough to flirt back.

Tommy Shelby, who she wanted like she had wanted no one before.  Tommy Shelby, who had walked her to her door, excitment and nervousness a knot in her stomach, only to kiss the back of her hand before bidding her goodnight.

Tommy fucking Shelby.

A knock on the door dragged her out of her thoughts, and Madeline turned her head to the door.  It was late, after curfew.  Not that that would stop most of the girls from visiting each other in the safety of their own hotel.  Still, Madeline hadn't yet had the chance to get particularly close to any of the other girls stationed in Paris.  She'd spent some time with Ethel in the past few days, but Ethel wasn't the sort to be knocking on doors at ten o'clock at night.

Still, there was no use in trying to fool herself

Sitting here wouldn't give her any answers.  Madeline pushed her way back from the desk, but before she could get any further there was another knock, and Madeline realized that it wasn't coming from her door, but the other direction.

The window.  Of course.  Of course it was the window.

There was only one person it could be.

If Madeline let him in, he wouldn't be leaving.  Not until the morning.  She knew herself well enough to know that.

There were reasons why she shouldn't let him in.  Madeline knew that.  If she slept with Tommy, she wouldn't be a virgin anymore. In the eyes of most everyone, she'd be ruined.  No one would want to marry her if she wasn't pure.  If anyone found out she'd be seen as easy, nothing more than a whore.  Left alone, a spinster for her entire life.  At least according to most of polite society.

Madeline had made it a goal of hers to offend polite society as often as possible.  She was here, doing her bit.  Fighting what most people considered to be a man's war.  She was in school, working towards her degree.  One she was going to use to become an independent woman.  Madline would stand on her own two feet, no matter what the rest of the world thought.

She'd dreamed of having someone stand next to her.  That much was true.  About what it would be like to have someone to share her life with.  But the truth of the matter was that most of the men she'd met didn't want a partner.  They wanted a soft, obident little wife. One who would wait for them in the kitchen, and have dinner waiting on the table when they came home.

Madeline wasn't that woman.  She'd never been that woman.  And she wouldn't be with a man who expected her to be.

Madeline could die here.  For all that she hadn't let herself consider much beyond the excitement of an adventure, her work here had made that clear.  The bomb that had fallen next door, destroying the building.  The death and destruction she could hear over the line.  This was war, and death was everywhere.  Tommy...Tommy was on the front, at even more risk than she was.  If he made it through the war alive, it would be a miracle.

She wasn't going to let fear keep her from having this.

Decision made, Madeline crossed over to the window to find Tommy Shelby waiting on the other side.

"I was beginning to think I wasn't welcome," Tommy said, climbing through the window frame.

Madeline didn't say anything.  Instead she crossed to where Tommy stood, grabbed his shoulder, and tugged him down to kiss him properly.

Tommy's arm wrapped around her waist, tugging her up against him until there wasn't even a hairsbredth between them.  His mouth opened, his tongue slipping into her mouth.  The day before she'd been surprised, unsure of what to do. Tommy had fixed that soon enough up on the rooftop.

Madelien Madeline slid her tongue across his own, the kiss warm and wet and fogging her mind like nothing had before.  Tommy tasted like cigarattes and whiskey, and he kissed her like he was conquering, laying a claim for all the world to see.

Madeline returned the favor as best she could.  Madeline was not one to simply stand back and let a man take charge.  This was as much about her claim on Tommy as it was his claim on her, if not more so.  Only when she felt as if she couldn't breath did she pull away, and even then she didn't go far.  Not that Tommy would have let her, if his grip was anything to go by.

"That wasn't the sort of welcome I was expecting," he said with a low chuckle, his knuckle brushing across her cheekbone.

"Disappointed?" Madeline asked him breathlessly, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

"I am beginning to suspect I could never be disappointed with you, Madeline," he said, remarkably serious for what the moment was.

Madeline wasn't stupid.  She didn't have any expectations.  She knew there was a good chance neither of them would make it through this.  Even if they did, Tommy had made her no promises.   He was here for his leave.  Nothing more.  To hope for anything else would be silly.  The actions of a little girl, not a woman.

The way Tommy Shelby was looking at her didn't mean anything.  She knew better than that.

"You're a flatterer, Tommy Shelby," Madeline said with a smile that was somewhat forced.

Tommy shifted his grip, titling her head upwards.

"I don't often say things I don't mean, Madeline," he told her, staring at her seriously.  "I want you, Madeline Clarkson.  Make no mistake about that.  But if all I wanted was sex, there would have been much easier ways to go about getting it."

Looking into his clear blue eyes, Madeline found that she had no choice but to believe him.

"Now, I believe I asked you a question the first time we met," Tommy said, his thumb stroking along her cheek, the arm around her waist dangerously low.  "Do you have an answer for me?" he asked her, face inching towards hers.

"I don't know," Madeline told him, angling her head.  "Have you learned to ask properly?"

He leaned down until his lips were at her ear, his warm breath ghosting against the skin sending shivers down her spine.

"J'ai envie de toi," he said, accent far less atrocious than it had been just two days ago. "Je veux faire l'amour.  J'ai envie de te sauter ."

The words sent shivers down her back, she pressed herself closer to him without meaning to.  When Tommy Shelby set out to learn something, he apparently learned it very well.  There was only one answer she could give.

"Ouï."

Madeline lay on Tommy's chest, his chest rising and falling beneath her ear.  She traced her fingers along the tattoo on his chest, while Tommy's fingers ran gently through her hair.  There was an ache between her legs, her muscles sore from moving in ways they'd never moved before.  It was a good sore, one she like.

"Alright?" Tommy asked her, staring down at her, his face softer than she'd ever seen it before.

"Better than alright," Madeline said, curling up against him.

"Good," Tommy said, a smug, self-satisfied smirk on his face.  "I wouldn't want to disappoint."

"I didn't know," Madeline said softly, staring at Tommy's chest.

"Didn't know what?" Tommy asked, pulling her closer.

"That sex could..." Madeline trailed off.

"Feel good?  That's rather the point, love."

Madeline sat up just enough to give Tommy a glare.

"I know that," Madeline told him.

She'd done a great deal of reading on all sorts of topics, many of which would have given her father an aneurism if he'd known.  Sex was supposed to feel good.  For men, at least.  Madeline knew better.  She'd put her fingers between her legs often enough to know those books that talked about it like it was a woman's duty, a burden to be born were a load of 

With a partner, though...it had been something else entirely.  This wasn't just two bodies coming together, brining each other pleasure.  It wasn't just an orgasm.  It was better than that.  To know that she was giving pleasure just as she was receiving it.  There was a closeness, a companionship.  It left her satisfied in ways she had not even known she had been wanting.

"I didn't know it could bring two people so close," Madeline said at last.  "I didn't know I'd laugh. I knew it would be good, but I didn't know it would be fun."

It had been, to her surprise.  Tommy had been undressing her, while she worked at the buttons of his uniform with unsteady fingers.  Madeline had felt hot, aroused and excited and nervous all at the same time, the tension between them almost suffocating.  Tommy had unzipped her skirt and pulled it off gently, almost reverently, his hands lingering on her legs.  Then he'd take one look at her regulation black bloomers and burst into laughter.  Madeline knew they were ridiculous.  All the girls hated them, Madeline included.  They were like something her grandmother would have worn, god rest her soul.

Tommy hadn't even tried to apologize, laughing so hard he gasped for air.  Madeline had grabbed her pillow and smacked him across the head.  He'd retaliated, and before she knew it they were both sprawled all but naked on the bed, wrestling playfully.

Madeline didn't know how, but in that moment, something had changed for the better. Madeline could feel it.

"It doesn't," Tommy said, brushing his finger along her cheekbone, "not always.  Sometimes it's just bodies.  Bodies filling needs, whatever they might be.  But sometimes." Tommy said, staring into Madeline with those deep eyes, "sometimes, when you're with the right person, it's something else.  Something deeper."

"They call it 'knowing' for a reason," Tommy said softly before kissing her.

As Tommy rolled her onto her back once more, as she wrapped her legs around his waist, she considered Tommy's words.

She knew Tommy.  She knew him in ways that she'd never known anyone before. An she felt known by him.

For the first time, Madeline felt as if someone truly saw her.