(AN: Disclaimer my views on abortion or pro-life are not reflected in this piece.)

(Name) sat by the window as she stared at the bullet sized drops of rain pelt against her window. The dark street on the other side of the window was gray, it was ugly. The winter had been bitter both to the city of Birmingham and to her.
She ran her hand over her empty neck where her cross necklace had once hung, he had taken it. She wondered if he still had it…

She still had something that was his…

Her (color)ed eyes drifted to the cigarette burn mark that marked her arm. He had branded her as his.

It had been months since their last encounter. He hadn't come for her - yet. She assumed that like most men, he had probably already forgotten her. The thundering skies made the icy window tremble. The empty streets illuminated by the branching rays of lighting. Tonight wasn't any different from any other day, it was just another sleepless night.

Actually, she had something else that was also his…

The child stirred at night and let out a desperate cry. Turning she approach her some month old babe.

He had given him to her.

(Name)'s affair with Tommy had stretched for months. Their brief relationship had been full of thrills. She could still remember the ecstasy she had when they snuck around the pews and rows of Birmingham's church at night. It was never the same afterward. Every Sunday after (Name) sat uncomfortably in her seat. Reminiscing memories and bite marks of their affair reminded her of her vulgar sinful actions in the House of God.
Despite the discomfort and strange thrill that sitting during Sunday service gave her, she still remained devoted to her religion despite it all.

Thomas had never minded her devotion. He simply observed her with his stoic eyes. His guarded persona kept her company during worship as he smoked.

She hated to admit it, but she missed him.
She missed his lack of manner in church.
She missed the constant cloud of smoke that seemed to hover over him and the terrible scent of whiskey and cigarettes that had become impressed in his luxurious three-piece suits.

Looking down at her child she realized it had been for the best. For everybody best.

Being related or in relations with a Shelby was a dangerous business. This was initially why she had decided to keep whatever it was her and Thomas had under the safe walls of the church.

But now-

She attempted to calm her crying child. The thunderstorm did not aid in easing the child's sleep.

To begin with- What was Tommy supposed to do with a child?

The man had a business to run.

Certainly, he had no time for such primitive things such as a family. Secondly, over the course of their relationship- unfortunately, several patients had come into her father's clinic; most claimed to be victims of the Peaky Blinders' wrath. Few died on her father's surgical table, an infection caught too many of them later costing them their lives.

The violence and death that the gang had spread throughout the city were deemed to be evil. Her father had always called them a plague. A plague that was low enough for not even the street rats to bite into.
(Name) usually bit her tongue at her father's lashes against the Peaky Blinders. It seemed like such a foreign concept to her.
Knowing that Tommy was behind it all didn't lessen the gravity of the situation… The Peaky Blinders had a handful of enemies in the territory. It wouldn't be hard for one or two of them to get wise and try getting to Tommy through her or their child.

It wasn't safe.

She trusted the Holy Trinity enough to keep her safe. She didn't fear death for she knew she would walk alongside the Lord. However, it was one thing for her life to be in danger, but an innocent child's? She knew what these men could e capable of.

Lastly, the part that worried her the most was that she knew that their child would eventually partake in the "family business", after all, he was a male and he possessed the blood of a Shelby. Knowing Tommy there would be no arguing in the matter.

The weight of her child felt heavy under her arms. It was exhausting. (Name) had never planned on raising a child alone. Then again, she had made a mistake, and like any mistake,e she had to face the consequences.

The thunder continued roaring in the distance.

The memory of the realization she was pregnant was still fresh in the back of her mind. There was no doubt that it was his. After all, the odds of her being the next Immaculate Conception had been crossed out some time ago.
She prayed long and haired for the Virgin Mary to illuminate her in her decision. Alone, afraid and with her skin crawling in anxiousness she meditated on her decision.

She felt filthy. In her dramatized mind she had become Satan's puppet. Her decision was imminent. Having a child outside of wedlock was enough of a lustful sin. However, killing one… there was no greater sin.

She would keep it.

She had become a whore, and her baby a bastard. It's mysterious parentage did not aid their situation.
Some people would murmur they had seen the woman dancing with the devil and that the child had been a fruit of a possession. (Name) felt they weren't far off…

After that, the clock was ticking. How long can one hide a pregnancy for?
It was only a matter of time before her father, the church and the people of Birmingham realized. As a result they shunned her.

The day her father found out-
Insulting words were tossed at her. As were the porcelain vases and tea cups that were in the kitchen table. Hot tea spilled like a Pollock and blistered her skin. Words of disappointment were shed as were tears.
It took a stinging slap to the face for her to realize she was no longer welcome in his house hold.
She never dated confess the name of the father. As far as she knew the child was hers and only hers.
If her father knew of his grandson's parentage- he would've made certain not to let her leave the house until he had "taken care of" the problem, as he had implied his services to her before violently lashing out. The doctor felt the shame of her, his only daughter had soiled their name.

With no choice, (Name) left her father's home and their practice.

She pondered on her odds of were to go. Going to Tommy was beyond the question. It defeated the purpose of keeping her small family safe.
So she decided to go to her second home, the church. She managed to freely live under God's roof depending on the charity and kindness of strangers. That was until the church goers realized the reason for her inhabiting what she had claimed was a "sanctuary."
She was expelled for her sins. (Name) cried the whole way through as she exited the church.
She had so much regret, she had confessed and repented whole heartedly countless of times, but it would never be enough…

Her only sin had been loving Thomas too much.

Her own people had betrayed her. She had become an outcast shunned by all. Her own blood, even her own Faith had turned against her. Devastated and in tears, she wondered the slums of Birmingham unsure of what to do. Rivers of tears streamed down her swollen, red eyes as she racked her brain in desperation. For once she was beginning to doubt in her God, in her own Faith.

How was it that Hewould allow this to happen to her?
Certainly, God himself wouldn't turn his back on her-

(Name) contemplated the life of a beggar.

It was then that a miracle happened.

Mr. Alfred MacAskin, the ill man she had cared for prior to meeting Tommy, spotted her through his dirty windows. It was now the same window she had been peeking out from only a few moments ago. Both sick and alone, Mr. MacAskin made her an offer she could not refuse.
(Name) was welcome to live with him on no charge with the only condition that she watched after him during his terrible illness. Blinking away the tears in her eyes, she agreed and embraced the elderly man.
Some months later that Mr. MacAskin passed away.
With no close relatives or friends, Alfred left whatever was left of his small fortune and all of his belongings to (Name).
It was a humble amount. Regardless, his kindness had kept both her and her child sheltered and with bread on the table.
The people of Birmingham gossiped that his man could've been the father to her bastard child. Other whispered that the woman had seduced him and then poisoned him in cold blood for whatever was left of his fortune.
With deaf ears, she thanked God and made sure to frequent the old man's grave.

Having inherited the house, (Name) eventually decided to open up her own clinic in hopes of earning some income. After all, it was the only trade she was familiar with.
The people were a skeptic of her clinic at first. God forbid an unmarried woman bearing a child out of wedlock practiced as a medic!
Despite it all, she had faith that everything would fall into place, and so far it had. After all, God has a plan for everyone. He had blessed her with a healthy babe and a small practice. After some time, the humble people of the area began attending her clinic in hopes of finding an ailment or having their medical needs looked after.

In the present night, the baby stirred and tossed in her arms restlessly. She coed at it exhausted in an attempt to soothe its powerful crying. She was exhausted. Emotionally she was not well. She was unable to sleep most evenings.
She wasn't sure what the root of her insomnia was.
Perhaps it was Catholic guilt? Perhaps it was unrest?

It was then that an introducing rapping in the door downstairs crashed her train of thoughts. She looked at the clock that hung on the austere wall of her bedroom.
"At this time?" She murmured to herself. It was the devil's hour. Nothing good could be at her doorstep at three in the morning.
Wrapping her coat around her body she descended the stairs and peeked through the edge of the ajar door. The rain fell hard. The dripping and falling echoed the quiet streets of the slums. In the dimly lit outside of her home stood several men.

"Yes?" She asked as she held the restless infant close to her chest. She hid its small face away from the chill of the outside.

"Doctor?" The man slurred drunkenly.
"I'm-I'm not…"

She was about to explain that she wasn't a licensed doctor, when she froze at the sight of a gun pressed against the bridge of her nose.

"Are you a doctor or not?" The man challenged.

The chilling steel of the gun tasted her skin. The child fussing in her arms did not aid the fear that was continuously escalating within her.

"Yes." She murmured.

A necessary lie.

"You'll do," the man grumbled satisfied and reached for her arm roughly. He dragged her out to the pouring rain, the child still in her arms. His cries only became louder.

"Wait-!" She struggled. "My child- The time- My medical kit-"
"Get in the fucking car," the man drunkenly hissed before he shoved her against the black vehicle. Inside she attempted to maintain the baby's body dry. The poor child was now wet and cold, this only made matters worse. (Name) looked at the gun the man held with terrified eyed.

"God's the one who pulls the fucking trigger," he spat. For whatever reason, his words were not reassuring to her.

The car took off without a warning. One of the men tossed the bag with medical supplies at her soaking wet, bare, feet.

It was then that (Name) realized the man that had sat next to her in the backseat was none other than the oldest Shelby sibling, Arthur. He was blithering drunk out of his mind and his eyes were red and swollen as he shouted at the driver. She was certain that he was feeling something, what it was she had no idea.

"We've got a sit... We've 'lready offed one doc in town, can't afford to lose 'anuther. Get'it?" Arthur slurred drunkenly as he continued drowning himself in a flask of what (Name) couldn't tell if it was gasoline or alcohol. Not that it made a difference…
She couldn't tell what it was he wanted. She wondered if it had anything to do with…
Her eyes darted down to her child which she was now bouncing on her shoulder impatiently.
Arriving at the location the men brought her inside. Still, a gun was being held at an arms distance as she walked inside of a warm house.

Inside, soaking to the bone with her hair sticking to her face she was greeted by two women.

"Doctor! Thank God you're here," the older looking woman said as she rushed to the door. Her eyes were two dark hovering orbs. Face was fixed on a permanent frown and her eyebrows were arched. "It's my nephew…" She began. "He's unwell."
Her eyes darted to a room upstairs with concern. (Name) nodded. It was then that the other woman, the much younger one, took the infant from (Name)'s hands without questioning her authority. She reached for her child, but stopped when she remembered the queasy feeling the gun being held against her back made her feel, it was hard to have a say in the situation.

(Name) was beginning to add two and two together. She had a sick feeling in her stomach at the realization of where she was.

"You're chilled to the bone!" the woman cooed as she attempted to calm the babe.
"I'll watch him for you," the young woman said as she held the child close to her. Despite the association to the Shelby's she wore a kind expression and appeared to hold an air of innocence.

Arthur lead the doctor upstairs at gunpoint. "You better make 'him better," he threatened. (Name) wondered if he remembered the approach he had once made towards her.

"Isn't he precious?" The woman coed as our protagonist walked away. There was something about her words that brought tranquility to (Name). If she died tonight... Perhaps this woman would take her child?

She swore she could feel the doorknob sting as she reached for it with a shaky hand. The sight of the room twisted her insides as she felt a punch in the gut.

Tommy Shelby was lying on the bed unconscious.
Besides his bed stood his other brother, John, who was a nervous wreck.
"'bout blood time you got 'ere with the fucking doctor!" He cried out as he pulled out his short hair anxiously.

Her breath caught as she saw the terrible conditions in which he lay. He was unresponsive, his eyes were slightly open. Hints of his shirtless skin were odd shades of bluish purple, slight choking sounds could be heard coming from his throat. It was a death rattle.

She realized she spoke only after saying it.

"Tommy!" She shrieked in horror as she dove to the ground next to his bed.

His skin was cold and clammy. Pale skin, limp body and a slow pulse.

"Help me lift him!" She wasted no time in lifting his body, John helped on the other side. Thomas was absolutely unconscious. She made him throw up on a rag that John had brought her.
With panic rushing through her, she injected him with what she felt would ease the overdose.

"Get rid of this," she told John as she tossed the rag to his hands. With a look of panic, he rushed down the stairs.
"Hot water," she called over her shoulder to Arthur who was still pointing the gun at the doctor looked at her hesitantly. Stumbling upon the doorframe he left the room to get the water.

This was no disease. Stumbling around the room she pulled at the first drawer next to his bed. It revealed a nightmare.

"Oh, Tommy, Tommy, my Tommy," she said as she held his face in her hands. Guilt and pain washed over her. In the drawer was a smoke pipe and a load of brown opium.
She pressed her forehead against his and felt her face was suddenly wet.

He was an addict.
How had she been so blind to see it?

"What the fuck- do you think you're doing?" A voice hissed.
She turned to see Arthur and John Shelby looking struck. Without another word, she wiped her tears and stood up.

"He-He'll be fine. Just a bad bug," she lied through her teeth.
Both men eyed her suspiciously. Her stomach had sunk, she felt something twisting inside of her chest.

She gathered her kit and prepared to leave the room. "Make sure he takes two of these every twelve hours," she said handing John (the more rational looking brother) a small flask with some pills in it. He has to drink a lot of water and don't keep him out of sight-"

Her voice trailed off when she realized neither of the brothers were listening to her.

"Oh, you're not going anywhere doctor." Arthur warned.

"Tommy doesn't git any betta', you don't git to leave - with life 'least." He said darkly.