He clucks his tongue and laces his fingers, demonstrating his theory.
"The military is predictable in my time. The only people who climb the ranks are those who think like Lydecker does. So what I learned about his fears--that he hates not being the strongest creature in the room--can be used against all the versions of him that exist in my world. A good portion of them are going to hate the idea that there are lycanthropes out there capable of tearing people apart. They're going to hate that they don't know how to recognize us."
He looks up at Tommy, reading him, but with a smile that's very much fox-in-the-hen house. "Some of it will be that simple, sure. I'll turn who I can, have at least one spy in there. But a lot of it is going to be psychological, and another part of it is going to be paperwork and bureaucracy. They won't do anything without funding, and what I can't kill, I can always slow down financially."
"It would be safest, probably. But if not that, then war. If not that, then worming my way into the head of the operation. If I can't get in through the military, I have contacts in the government."
Contacts he had just never been able to find a use for until now.
"It's not something I can just leave to fester and grow. Have you ever seen an asylum, Tommy? One in your time?"
"The man I tortured was involved in experiments. His excuse was that his subjects aren't human. It's the exact same excuse that's going to be used on me and my kind. We aren't human; therefore we don't have human rights."
He looks at Tommy a second, explains, "That argument has been used a lot through history. People in asylums lack certain rights because they aren't considered human enough. It's not a real parallel, I was just trying to find a common reference point. Eventually, the conditions are terrible enough that people step in to change things. Who's going to step in to protect a man-eating dog? Let alone one that is the real world version of an ancient monster. The point is I can't rely on anyone else to stop this from happening."
It sends a shiver through him- reminds him, vaguely, of the way some people talk about him and his people. Not quite English enough to matter, not belonging to a group that deserves certain things simply because they were born in it. It's horrifying, and if he were part of a group like Lark's he knows he wouldn't just let it happen, either.
He doesn't have a solution for Lark's problem, even if he doesn't think it's the right thing to do- killing so many people, trying to reign over more. It won't be the end of it, regardless.
"How sure are you that that's going to solve your problems, Lark?"
"Nothing is going to solve them. But this will make some smaller. We've been hiding for over a thousand years, and all it's got us is near extinction and an increasingly difficult time staying hidden. If I don't do something now, we may not survive."
And yeah. That's all true. That's all part of why he's doing it. He'd leave it there, if he didn't suspect Tommy could see deeper into his motives than Lark wants anyone to do.
"You do what you do for your family. But some of it is also for you. Isn't it?"
"Some, certainly." And here he draws a line in the sand, for himself more than for Lark. This is not something he can discuss with anyone until he knows what he thinks.
What he suspects is that, if the percentage Shelby family vs Tommy Shelby shifted, he would not be here as a warden. He's noticed in his conversations with both wardens and inmates that the balance, in him, is precarious. He cannot let someone like Lark pull him over, as much as they may share positive things these days.
"What is it for you, then? What drives you, apart from the survival of your species?"
Given the chance, Lark would absolutely pull him over, and nothing about it would even be malicious at this point. As it is, he already treats Tommy the way he treats anyone he hopes to be able to trust with something (however small that thing might be).
"I don't know how to describe it. It's- a need, I suppose. I need to always be progressing. There's a top of the food chain, a top of any hierarchy, and the top is not always the safest but it's the place I would rather be. Your turn; without your family would you be doing what you do?"
It answers the question he'd had perfectly, although it's troubling- because Tommy understands the need, and he doesn't know how he could ever offer an alternative to it.
He shakes his head. "Without my family, I wouldn't have been in the bookmaking business to start with."
Which is not exactly the same- but he needs Lark to be specific with this one.
"That's what I've been working towards for years, Lark. What do you think?"
Something, somewhere deep inside of him, tells him he's kidding himself. He ignores it; the memory of standing in front of the whole company and telling them about the legitimate betting license is enough for now. That feeling of almost-there that had been put on halt by Kimber's arrival, by Grace's betrayal. He holds onto that.
"I think that being able to choose things for yourself is the key to a fulfilled life and I think that having to risk things for those choices makes them all the sweeter. And I think that once you've had a life of fighting your way, often literally, to every goal can become hard to leave behind." Lark could be talking about either of them.
"I think ambition is harder to leave behind than the dead are."
"When I come back, that's that." He says it firmly, but Lark might get the idea that it's said to convince himself more than Lark. Because those words hit harder than he wants them to, and on top of everything else it's left him reeling slightly.
"No more guns, no more Irish business, no more double-crossing."
"But do what instead?" Lark asks, and he asks it soft.
"I've got a legitimate business on the side, I use it to fund everything I do. And after fighting for my life, after watching my home burn down and my friends die, how could I ever go back to signing contracts and pretending I feel half as alive as I did when I had someone's gun at my head?"
"By thinking of how your brothers might get blown up, and your sister might get raped, and everything you've worked for goes down in one go, just because you wanted too much."
He's exhausted, mentally and physically, but he manages to say this with considerable force and fire. His hand clenches around the communicator that holds Grace's messages, and something ugly and petty twists in him that he has to push down.
"Everything we went through, I won't diminish it all for that."
"Tommy. What you've done, it's not going to be undone by retirement.
You are Thomas Shelby and now you always will be. Existing is to be
in a state of risk, but you, you've made more of yourself. There are always
going to be people out to cut you down for it."
So why not reach for more, is Lark's motto. You're going to be hated and
hunted anyway, you can at least die with your boot on someone's
throat.
Of course, instead of saying so, he smiles, worried and encouraging--mostly
worried.
"I can stop them from cutting me without needing to step on their corpses," he says, hoarsely.
Only he's not so sure that he can. That he can let it go; that the Thomas Shelby he's always imagined himself to be could do that. The fact that Lark says so, right now, that Lark is pulling this doubt from him with both hands makes him nervous, twitchy- angry, almost.
He doesn't smile back. He clenches his jaw, then stands up.
"You're superimposing your own ambitions onto my life, Lark."
Lark is quiet a minute, studying him, and in that moment he is very much not human, very much the creature that lives alongside humanity and picks off the young and sick.
Tommy is neither of which and Lark finally shrugs a shoulder. "Actually, I doubt our ambitions are in the same postal code. But I do know a thing or two about having a whole group of semi-innocent people picked off for being associated with me, Tommy."
Lark's tongue presses the back of his teeth as he considers saying what he'd meant, pressing harder to see how much Tommy believes this and how much of it is just fear.
He decides, instead, to do what he often does with Tommy and just let it go. It's not worth the argument, but it's also certainly not worth letting something slip that he would rather keep to himself.
"You're right. I'm sorry. I just would rather you find lasting happiness than the muffled version of it that comes with too much safety."
"I'd rather live a muffled life than one in which my family keeps getting opportunities to hate me, where they're constantly at risk." He's so deeply tired, suddenly, standing in the middle of the cabin, still clutching his communicator. The way Lark makes him doubt, the way Lark makes him think of planning--
He's so tired of being who he is. Of being the kind of person who has considered, even briefly, continuing after the standoff with Kimber.
Lark nods, settled back into the deeply attentive part of his personality. He doesn't say--doesn't need to say--that Tommy's family is at risk now and forever, that Tommy quitting doesn't mean all the habits will be gone.
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"The military is predictable in my time. The only people who climb the ranks are those who think like Lydecker does. So what I learned about his fears--that he hates not being the strongest creature in the room--can be used against all the versions of him that exist in my world. A good portion of them are going to hate the idea that there are lycanthropes out there capable of tearing people apart. They're going to hate that they don't know how to recognize us."
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He knows this is part of Lark's plans- thanks to Tati. But he'd like to hear Lark say it.
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Contacts he had just never been able to find a use for until now.
"It's not something I can just leave to fester and grow. Have you ever seen an asylum, Tommy? One in your time?"
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"I haven't, no."
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He looks at Tommy a second, explains, "That argument has been used a lot through history. People in asylums lack certain rights because they aren't considered human enough. It's not a real parallel, I was just trying to find a common reference point. Eventually, the conditions are terrible enough that people step in to change things. Who's going to step in to protect a man-eating dog? Let alone one that is the real world version of an ancient monster. The point is I can't rely on anyone else to stop this from happening."
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He doesn't have a solution for Lark's problem, even if he doesn't think it's the right thing to do- killing so many people, trying to reign over more. It won't be the end of it, regardless.
"How sure are you that that's going to solve your problems, Lark?"
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And yeah. That's all true. That's all part of why he's doing it. He'd leave it there, if he didn't suspect Tommy could see deeper into his motives than Lark wants anyone to do.
"You do what you do for your family. But some of it is also for you. Isn't it?"
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What he suspects is that, if the percentage Shelby family vs Tommy Shelby shifted, he would not be here as a warden. He's noticed in his conversations with both wardens and inmates that the balance, in him, is precarious. He cannot let someone like Lark pull him over, as much as they may share positive things these days.
"What is it for you, then? What drives you, apart from the survival of your species?"
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"I don't know how to describe it. It's- a need, I suppose. I need to always be progressing. There's a top of the food chain, a top of any hierarchy, and the top is not always the safest but it's the place I would rather be. Your turn; without your family would you be doing what you do?"
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He shakes his head. "Without my family, I wouldn't have been in the bookmaking business to start with."
Which is not exactly the same- but he needs Lark to be specific with this one.
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"What if you went home and your family's safety and financial needs were secure?"
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Something, somewhere deep inside of him, tells him he's kidding himself. He ignores it; the memory of standing in front of the whole company and telling them about the legitimate betting license is enough for now. That feeling of almost-there that had been put on halt by Kimber's arrival, by Grace's betrayal. He holds onto that.
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"I think ambition is harder to leave behind than the dead are."
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"No more guns, no more Irish business, no more double-crossing."
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"I've got a legitimate business on the side, I use it to fund everything I do. And after fighting for my life, after watching my home burn down and my friends die, how could I ever go back to signing contracts and pretending I feel half as alive as I did when I had someone's gun at my head?"
cw: rape
He's exhausted, mentally and physically, but he manages to say this with considerable force and fire. His hand clenches around the communicator that holds Grace's messages, and something ugly and petty twists in him that he has to push down.
"Everything we went through, I won't diminish it all for that."
Re: cw: rape
"Tommy. What you've done, it's not going to be undone by retirement. You are Thomas Shelby and now you always will be. Existing is to be in a state of risk, but you, you've made more of yourself. There are always going to be people out to cut you down for it."
So why not reach for more, is Lark's motto. You're going to be hated and hunted anyway, you can at least die with your boot on someone's throat.
Of course, instead of saying so, he smiles, worried and encouraging--mostly worried.
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Only he's not so sure that he can. That he can let it go; that the Thomas Shelby he's always imagined himself to be could do that. The fact that Lark says so, right now, that Lark is pulling this doubt from him with both hands makes him nervous, twitchy- angry, almost.
He doesn't smile back. He clenches his jaw, then stands up.
"You're superimposing your own ambitions onto my life, Lark."
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Tommy is neither of which and Lark finally shrugs a shoulder. "Actually, I doubt our ambitions are in the same postal code. But I do know a thing or two about having a whole group of semi-innocent people picked off for being associated with me, Tommy."
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"There will always be more to come, if you do that."
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He decides, instead, to do what he often does with Tommy and just let it go. It's not worth the argument, but it's also certainly not worth letting something slip that he would rather keep to himself.
"You're right. I'm sorry. I just would rather you find lasting happiness than the muffled version of it that comes with too much safety."
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He's so tired of being who he is. Of being the kind of person who has considered, even briefly, continuing after the standoff with Kimber.
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"Do they hate you?"
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