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byorder-fanfic · 4 years ago

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A Good Woman

Summary: The man Lizzie loves is put in the hospital by the two other men she thought she loved. So, she does what any woman in her situation would do- she points a gun to their heads.

Word count: 2327

Warnings: Hospital, descriptions of injury and pain, mentions of sex work and sexual abuse, swearing.

Author’s Note: Hi, this is a part two to A Good Man. It’s an AU in which the vendetta doesn’t happen because Lizzie Stark is a badass, and it’s inspired by that scene in S5 when she tells Aberama, Johnny and Tommy to “get out of her house”. Hope you enjoy it xx

Angel was screaming. Lizzie had never heard him in so much pain before, his anguished moans echoing in every corridor of the hospital. Or was it just her mind replaying the sounds that had greeted her as she raced through the nurses and doctors, just trying to find him. She didn't think it could be true- John was a good man, wasn't he? He wouldn't have done this to her. But the bandages wrapped around Angel's face proved otherwise. She leaned her head against the wall, trying to focus on the tapping of shoes on shiny floors, trying to think of anything but the screaming. Lizzie had seen him in pain before; she had taken a bullet from his shoulder after a nasty shoot out. Even then, he was grinning through his winces, trying to flirt with her as she poured spirits on his wound. It made her smile for a second. Then she thought of his face, now forever scarred. That was, if he survived. Lizzie felt tears sting her eyes, and for once in her life, she let herself cry. That was exactly why she isolated herself to this corridor, moving away from his room just so Audrey and Vincente wouldn't see her fall apart. They didn't need her pain. But Lizzie did. She needed to feel the tears stream down her face, needed to feel her throat get dry as she gasped for air. She needed to feel this, just to remind herself how much she loves him. Loves. Not loved. Not yet. Suddenly feeling grumpy at herself, Lizzie brought up her sleeve to wipe away the tears. She would be strong for Angel: she would hold onto his mother and pray with his father, she would give them tears when they cried and whisper hope into their ears. Hope was easy for her, she thought, with a lifetime of hopelessness.

When she came back, Audrey reached up to hold her tight. She was much smaller than Lizzie, her tears warm against her neck as pulled apart with a smile. Angel had stopped screaming.

"He will live," Audrey stated, before more tears fell down her cheek. Lizzie didn't let herself smile just yet, looking up to the white haired man for confirmation. Vincente nodded, and Lizzie grinned and beamed and smiled so much, it felt sore on her face. Thank you, God, she thought, thank you Jeremiah, too. She knew the preacher would've prayed for him, just as he knew she couldn't as long as he screamed like that.

"Have you seen him?" Lizzie's eyes darted to the hospital door, now shut. "Is he awake?"

"Yes, we've spoken," Vincente spoke for his wife, bringing her into his arms as she kept on crying with joy. "He said he'd like to speak to you, too."

"If that's alright," She hesitated, thinking of what he would say. What she could say.

"Of course it is, Lizzie," Vincente smiled kindly.

When Lizzie walked in, she knew exactly what to expect. White walls, white sheets, white bandages on his face. Yet she still couldn't stop the sudden thrill of happiness that warmed up inside her when she saw him. Angel was smiling, despite the morphine drip connected to his arm (or maybe that was the reason why), eyes lighting up as he saw the tall silhouette he knew all too well enter the room.

"You're here," he grunted out, trying to shift himself to sit up.

Seeing his struggle, Lizzie strode in, resting a hand on his chest as she gently put him down, as she perched on the edge of his bed, careful to check for any wires she might be constricting. Her hand immediately found his, still the same unscarred hand she would hold onto under the table at his restaurant. It was weird at first, since he wasn't wearing the rings she'd grown accustomed to digging into her bony fingers. But it was still him. She reached her other hand up, running her fingers through his matted hair. It was wild and dark with sweat instead of gel keeping it tidy. She tried not to brush against the bandages- a difficult task. They covered most areas of his face like an incomplete patchwork of his likeness, some flecks of blood staining the gauze.

"I'm sorry." The guilt she'd been hoarding since his restaurant burnt down all came pouring out, her voice tearing as she carried on. "If you'd never met me, if I never worked for those Shelby fuckers, then you wouldn't have gotten hurt. It's all...it's all my fault, Angel, I'm so sorry."

"Lizzie, love," Angel smiled as if it amused him, squeezing her pale hand tighter. "This isn't your fault. You're allowed to be with whoever you so choose." A shuffling behind his bandages told her he was giving her that cocky eyebrow lift that drove her insane. "And you choose me. Those Shelby fuckers can deal with that."

"They will," she practically growled it out. "I will make sure they pay for this."

"I know," he nodded gently. "You're a remarkable woman, Lizzie Stark, and you make sure to give them Hell for me, okay?"

"Okay."

Angel pulled her down to his bed so she was lying next to him, her head resting on the shoulder of his hospital gown and her legs falling off of the bed.

"You look worn out, love," he whispered.

"Aw thanks," she joked.

"Sorry, you look beautiful as always," he corrected himself with a little kiss to the top of her head. "Have you been eating and sleeping alright?"

She thought back to all the days and nights Angel had been in the hospital, all the days and nights she had stayed here too. The hospital staff had tried to kick her out since it's "family only", but Audrey Changretta had insisted Lizzie was family, and, well, no one argues with her.

"I've been staying in hospital with your parents," she told him. "So, not really. We've all just been worried."

"Well, as soon as I get out of here, I'll make us a big meal," he promised, hand tight around her waist.

"You still want me?" She said it quietly, not quite believing it.

"I'm the one whose hideously scarred, Liz." Even though she couldn't see, she knew he was grinning. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"You're not hideous," she lifted herself up, staring into his eyes, twinkling under the bandages. "You could never be hideous."

They fell back into comfortable silence as Lizzie laid uncomfortably in the bed, but she didn't care. At least he was here, his chest expanding with each breath that Lizzie anxiously listened to, heart still beating.

"Y'know," she gave a sly smile. "When you get back, I could cook dinner for you."

And Angel laughed, a loud guffaw that made him grunt a little in pain, as he brought Lizzie closer to his chest.

"Mi amore, I will do anything for you," he declared. "Except for eating your burnt toast."

Lizzie didn't stay at the hospital the next day. With a clap on the back from Vincente, another tight hug from Audrey, and a kiss good luck from Angel, she was marching down Small Heath, a blaze in her eyes that forced everyone to step out of her way. A woman on a mission, with only one target in mind. The betting shop was surrounded by smoking Blinders, each of them giving a blank stare as they watched her storm into Number 6, Watery Lane. She could feel everyone's eyes on her as she charged on through, walking past the Shelby family at the table before reaching her desk. She didn't answer their questions, posed loud and rudely, as she opened up her bottom drawer. She didn't respond when she brought out her revolver. She didn't feel sorry when they screamed at her as she cocked it with a click. She just rose up, graceful as a dancer, and marched back to them, gun pointed at John's head.

"Now, then, Liz," Tommy held hid hands up, trying to get her to surrender. Everyone was on their guard, tense and wide-eyed as they watched her hold the gun, unshaking and unrelenting. She wouldn't let him take the gun from her again. "I know you're upse-"

"Shut up, Tom," she growled, pointing the gun back to him. "For once in your fuckin' life, will you just shut up and sit down?"

"Okay," John spoke, calmly, as he nodded for everyone to sit back down. She tried not to look at the betrayal in his eyes, knowing he didn't like the familiar look in hers.

"What d'ya have to say, Lizzie?" Arthur asked, gruffly.

"You fuckers are lucky," she began. "If Angel died, it wouldn't be me showing up here to point a gun at you. Killing a Changretta would start a vendetta, and you would just keep on killing each other till there was no one left." She looked down a moment. "Cept me, of course. Need someone to put a flower on your grave, right?"

"We weren't trying to hurt you," Tommy said it coldly.

"No, course you weren't," she laughed at the thought. "Cause you never think of me, none of you do. You didn't want me, Tom, and neither did you, John." She glared at them both. "So why the fuck are you getting territorial now? Why do you have to hurt the one good man who loves me?"

"Loves you, huh?" Arthur scoffed a little.

"Yeah, he does, and I love him," she said it just as coldly as Tommy would've, making sure they could all see her teeth as she snarled at them.

"You've said that before," John said, cruelly.

"I think I did love you, John," she looked at him. "And I didn't see anyone the first week after you proposed." Esme was watching on awkwardly. "But then the money I saved up ran out, and it was either keep my promise to you and starve or lose some dignity and keep a roof over my head."

"We've all been through hard times, Lizzie." Polly looked just like Tommy as she said that, eyes blazing.

"Well I never had a family like you to take care of me," she said, shrugging slightly. The gun was getting heavy in her hands. "All I had was a dad who abandoned me and a mum that drunk herself into an early grave." Everyone flinched- she'd never told anyone but Angel and Jeremiah about her past. "And I was chucked out into the streets with only the clothes on my back. No one would hire me cause I always had mud on my clothes and I bathed in the Cut." She shuddered as she remembered those times, so long ago. "So I became a whore, and I got food in my stomach and I saved up to get myself that dingy little flat, and I was miserable." She shook her head. "And I thought the only way out was with a ring on my finger, so I said yes to John. And then I said yes to Tommy, cause I will not ever go back onto the streets." She put her gun down at last, feeling it swing by her hip. "But I'm not a whore anymore. I'm happy now, with a proper job that I'm proud of and a good man at my side. You will not ruin that for me." She glowered at the three Shelby brothers. "Tommy, John, Arthur, you will go to the liquor shop round the corner and buy a bottle of wine, red, and go to the hospital, and apologise to Angel."

They all started to protest but Lizzie raised the gun again.

"I said shut it," she said firmly. "You will swallow that fuckin' pride of yours and apologise to him, and you will finish this stupid war."

"Or else?" Tommy didn't take her seriously, looking more amused than concerned.

"Or else I'll do what I should've done at the Darby," she pointed her gun to him again, seeing the flicker of recognition in his eyes at the sight.

"What happened at the Darby?" John also remembered seeing her, battered in her pretty dress. Lizzie rolled her eyes.

"You really think I'd've whored myself out if I didn't have to?" She spat out the words, and Tommy had the decency to look ashamed as Arthur and John turned to him with confused looks.

"Tom, you didn't get Liz hurt, didya?" Arthur asked, not believing the word of a whore over his brother. Even though she's not a whore now.

"She wasn't supposed to-"

"Tommy here was too busy chatting up the Irish spy and Lady Carleton to save me in time," Lizzie said. "Because you boys can fuck who you like without us women getting possessive."

She didn't need the comparison to the bandages on Angel's face to the ring on Grace's finger, to the wedding that got his restaurant burnt to a char.

"The Changretta war is over," Polly said sternly, looking over to her nephews. "They will apologise and Lizzie can be free to fuck who she likes."

They all gritted their teeth, but they knew better to fight their aunt and a woman with a gun to their heads.

"Good, and I quit," she said, putting the gun to her side. "I expect a really good letter of recommendation, by the way."

"It'll be done," Polly said. Things were much better when Polly was in charge, like in the war.

"What'll you do?" Despite their complicated relationship, Lizzie was still friends with Esme. She grinned at her friend for a second.

"I'm gonna work as Chief Secretary for a foundation for Women and Girls in need," she said proudly, thinking of how she could help women like her, recover like her. "Oh, and I'm getting married."

They hadn't seen the shining diamond on Lizzie's trigger finger.

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