Forgive me I have been inactive

It was late. This wasn't an hour that Maggie was usually awake at, least of all sitting at the counter of the bar with a drink in hand. She grasped the top of the cup with her fingers and delicately gave it a swirl, watching the way the ice shifted through the brown honey liquid. She wasn't used to drinking straight like this but perhaps these boys were having a greater effect on her than she realized.

The pub was empty save for a couple men slumped over the tables, and the men who were finally returning home and singing loudly in the streets. Their voices were muffled from inside where she sat, but besides herself, John and Arthur they seemed to be the only sober ones there. Well, John was mostly sober. He sat at the seat next to her, leaned over his own cup with a cigarette in his hand. Arthur was behind the bar, tidying up the inventory that had been disheveled by his busy night.

Maggie couldn't help but think about her morning earlier, the Blue Cap pub and the way Thomas had treated her when he found her there. The whole walk back had been rather cold, even for this new Tommy, and she couldn't help but feel like she'd become a nuisance that he had to escort back to safety. At least in his eyes. In her eyes she was annoyed at the way she'd suddenly been treated like a child. Was he not the one who had deliberately gone against her orders as a nurse? Was that not why she was here, to help him back to full health?

A small part in her mind told her she'd been foolish for following Thomas to a strange end in Birmingham while knowing fully well that whatever business he ran in this city was dangerous.

"John." She spoke out, her voice a little hoarser than she realized. She cleared her throat, and he looked sideways at her from beneath the peak of his hat.

"Who are the Blue Caps?" she asked, examining his face. A hotness swept over her face in annoyance when he just gave a knowing grin and shook his head, looking back to his drink. "John." She snapped, this time more firm. When he looked back at her he raised an eyebrow.

"F'Tommy didn't tell yeh then I shouldn't-"

"Unbelievable." Maggie scoffed, rolling her eyes and pushing her drink away. By now she'd gotten the attention of Arthur too, who had been solemn while she attempted to interrogate John.

"S'dangerous business, love." Arthur inserted. Maggie raised an eyebrow and squinted. He squirmed a little under her gaze. Arthur was the biggest of the brothers, but susceptible to a scrutinizing glare.

"I'm not stupid." She said, taking her time to emphasise every word. "You're gangsters. You think just because you don't talk to me about it that I'll turn a blind eye? Just because you don't share what's going on around here that I'm exempt from it? You might be gangsters but you're also fools." She said venomously, shaking her head and leaning against the counter as she glared between the two men. They looked like scolded children.

"Jus' an opposing gang from the north." Arthur muttered dismissively.

"And Thomas went to meet with them. Why are they here?" she drilled.

"Like I said, they're from the north, not here. They're coming south into our territory." Arthur continued a little more carefully. "Thomas doesn't trust 'em."

"Well should we be worried?" Maggie asked with a quizzical frown.

"They're not known for bein' the most friendly." Arthur reasoned with a shrug. John chuckled, and Maggie looked to him.

"Neither are we." He added with a smirk. Maggie's forehead tensed with that news, and it worried her. There was a shuffling noise from behind and she looked over her shoulder to see one of the slumped over men readjusting with a grunt. She had a built of anxiousness from the conversation that she hadn't realized collected.

"Everythin's fine Maggie." Arthur spoke with a finality on the subject, regaining Maggie's gaze. "Tommy doesn't want anyone worryin' is all. Leave that to us."

She didn't speak in response. They were being cagey about what they said and that annoyed her. She had been to the war too, she had seen plenty of horrors and been in as much danger as them. Yet they were walking on eggshells with her here. It was a whole new field that she had to prove herself with, redeem her worth.

"I'm going home." She announced.

"John, go with her." Arthur said in a tone that sounded like he was trying hard to cover it as a suggestion. But Maggie heard the order, and watched John down the rest of his drink.

"No." Maggie replied with annoyance. "I'm able to walk myself home without any help." Arthur looked like he was about to interject, but she swiped her purse from the counter, hopped off the stool and continued, "Since everything's as fine as you said."

And she headed for the door, pushing it open and into the night. It wasn't freezing, but it wasn't the warmest night either. She pulled the collar of her coat up against her neck and crossed an arm across her stomach, holding her purse to herself.

She was staying at an establishment not too far from the Garrison. Arthur had suggestion on multiple occasions that she stay with one of them, but Maggie dismissed it fiercely. She could pay for her own housing and not leech off of the Shelby boys any more than she already felt she was. It was a few streets away, and it was oddly darker and quieter than she had originally thought it would have been. It seemed friendlier with the sound of drunken men heading home arm in arm, singing merry songs and laughing boisterously. Although for a woman walking alone that could be threatening on its own, something about this silence was even more nerve wracking. Perhaps it was the booze.

Rounding a corner she continued on in a brisk walk when she realized she wasn't alone. Glancing over her shoulder she realized a man was in pursuit. He had a slow bulldog walk with squared shoulders and his hands in his pockets. She swallowed. He was here for her, she knew it. She looked ahead and continued, but a second man took a step from an alley in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.

Setting her jaw, she pushed her shoulders back and looked him in the eye. She didn't know him. The original pursuer had caught up now; him she recognized. He had been at the Garrison, one of the drunken men sitting at one of the stuffy tables.

"Well whatever you're going to do go ahead and do it boys. But do it knowing that if I go missing they'll know. And they'll know your face." She nodded her head to the more familiar man. Truthfully she talked the big game, but there was a knot in her throat that she was speaking past.

"Tha's the idea, innit?" the unfamiliar man chuckled. She tilted her head, giving a quizzical squint.

"Is it? I wouldn't know." She quipped back.

"Christ Louie, le's just grab the bird and go." The one from the bar crooned impatiently. She panicked.

"I'll scream." She forced out quickly and pulled away when Louie went to seize her arm.

"Not in your best interest." Louie advised.

"Accidents happen." The other chimed in. "We don't have to bring yeh alive. It can still send a message."
And then his hand grabbed her shoulder roughly. Reaching into her hand bag she pulled out a small knife, wrenched her shoulder away before thrusting her elbow into his throat and slashing blindly at his face. She hadn't expected it to be so successful, and didn't fully realize what she had done even as the hot blood spurted across her face. He howled, grasping at his throat as streams of blood came pouring from a gaping cut.

Instantly she began to feel sick. Blood never had an effect on her like this; she'd seen plenty of battle wounds in the war but being the one to deal it out had never been something she'd thought about. Her arms felt weak, and the second man, Louie, seemed to come back to his senses.

"Little bitch!" he cried, bringing her attention back as well. He was larger and stronger than her, so when he grabbed her and thrust her against the brick wall she went like a leaf. Lifting the knife again she tried to swipe at anywhere she could reach, but she no longer had the element of surprise. He grabbed her wrist with the knife in hand and began bending her arm back towards her own throat. Her best efforts to resist his brute force weren't nearly enough, and all she could do to keep from getting her throat slit was bring up her other hand and grab the sharp blade of the knife.

It sliced her palm like it was nothing, and a piercing pain came followed by a flow of her hot blood. She cried out grabbing the knife more firmly knowing it was her best defense, otherwise it was free to slit her throat. He pulled it sideways, and slick with red it was freed. Maggie could only watch as he lifted it high to strike.

BANG

Louie looked surprised when the side of his neck blew out. Bits of his flesh parted and more blood was sprayed upon Maggie's face as she flinched, a heavy ringing now in her ears. The gunshot brought all sorts of memories back, and as Louie fell to the ground in a heap, she leaned back against the brick wall for support and slid to the ground as well.

Cradling her hand, she stared at the corpse before her, and then the one meters away that had bled out. That one had been her kill. But Louie? She looked up. There was John. He had a toothpick in his mouth and hardly looked phased, but there was a crease in his brow as he approached. He spoke, but her ears were still ringing, slowly coming back to.

"Mags?" he gave the body a rough kick to shove it out of the way and knelt down on one knee beside her.

"John." She breathed. He put an arm around her shoulders, urging her to stand, grabbing her elbow with his free hand.

"We gotta go, c'mon. Up we get-"with a heave he helped her to her feet as she tried to break free from her daze. The pain in her hand was a good reality check, so she tried to focus on that. "Let's go, Red."