A Mind to Tear a Soul in Two Chapter 10, a peaky blinders fanfic

A Mind to Tear a Soul in Two: Chapter Ten

Following the the barman up the stairs, Charlotte couldn't help but stomp her feet with just a little extra force on each step. "You'll be the death of them, you know that, right?"

Snorting at him, she shook her head, "How's that, Harry?"

"There's nothing worse for any big brother than a pretty sister with a wild spirit. And you my girl — you're making your way through Birmingham breaking hearts and bones."

"I don't know about that..." Bones? Sure. Hearts? No thank you.

"Oh trust me, you're giving those boys hell, whether you mean to or not."

"Well, they deserve it."

"You're not wrong there, Charlie girl." Laughing, he lead her down the hall and towards a room just around the corner. As they entered the cold room, Charlotte couldn't help but wonder about the former occupants. Before the war, Harry rented out the rooms above his pub for a fair price. But since the peaky blinders took over Small Heath, the rooms have remained empty.

"Hey Harry, why don't you rent these out anymore?"

"No reason really. I got used to living here all on me own during the war, and I got use to the quiet and privacy."

"Oh, well, that's nice, I guess."

"It also helps that your brothers pay me to store some stuff here every now and then." Turning away from her he added, "Well, used to pay me. I suppose you should be asking Arthur why there's room aren't rented anymore."

Jesus Christ — her goddamned brother's going around town, growing the empire without concern to who gets steamrolled in the process. Taking over Harry's pub without so much as a 'Would ya mind?'

"Oh geez, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to–"

Cutting her off Harry gave her a small smile, "Don't worry about it, Charlie girl. That's absolutely nothing you need to be bothered with."

Frustrated over the arrogance of the Shelby boys, she couldn't stop herself from continuing to rage, "But that's it isn't it? That's the real reason for it all." Scoffing, she threw her hands in the air like a mad person, "My brothers — the reason half of Birmingham does what they do. Either for fear or love of the peaky fucking blinders."

Looking around the room she then noticed a few crates stacked up, labeled 'toitíní'. They seemed to be haphazardly tossed in the corner next to a sagging iron bed and oversized wardrobe. "You didn't want to sell this place, I know it — hell, all of Birmingham knows it. But you did it anyway because Tommy told you, you was gonna sell it to him. And once he told you, that was that. No questions."

Seeing the frenzy she was getting herself worked into, Harry gave a small chuckle before forcibly taking her by the shoulders and moving her to sit on the sagging bed. "Oh, come on now let's see what I've got here that'll fit you." Moving to the wardrobe he began rummaging around sorting through left behind clothes that had gathered over the years, "It goes without saying that a dress is out of the question?"

Laughing at him she informed, "You know, Harry, I don't care what the other's say — I've always said you're brighter than all those peaky men combined."

Rolling his eyes at her joke he turned and presented her with a suitable article of clothing, "Alright little miss peaky blinder, I think that's just about enough outta you. Now, how about this?" Holding up a pair of coveralls he added, "Might be able to fit the entire Russian circus in there, but they won't fall off."

"They'll do. Thanks Harry." Sighing at him, she took a deep breath and tried to let her frustrations float away.

"Anything for you." Then turning to leaving the room — allowing her some privacy — Harry added, "You can see your way back downstairs, yeah? I think I'll have a lie down before the evening rush starts."

Nodding in agreement she made quick work of relieving herself of her bloody and sopping wet trousers, feeling as if things were just a little bit better now that she was dry.

Making her way back downstairs wearing Harry's borrowed circus tent, she was met by Ada and Karl, "What's this going on with you and John now?"

Scoffing at her, Charlotte admitted, "Not a fucking clue. Everything was fine this morning. It's only since your brilliant showdown that he's seemed to take offence to my presence."

A thought crossed over Ada's face and she snorted, "Maybe he never got to finish up after Tommy interrupted him and Esme this morning?"

Making a face, Charlotte balked, "Gross."

Ignoring her disgust, Ada continued, "Well, whatever it is, just stay clear of him until he's able to get it wet again."

"Jesus Ada, could you not?"

Laughing Ada took her arm and ushered her to the small room at the front of the pub, "Come on, everyone's waiting."

Making their way to the snug, Charlotte made sure to squeeze herself in between her uncle and Ada, as far from John's looming glare as she could possibly get.

Once everyone was settled around Danny's prone form, Arthur and Tommy spoke a few words commemorating the passing of their brother in arms. As they finished their speeches, a bottle of rum was passed around and each person was able to toast a salud to their fallen friend.

By the time the bottle had made its way through half of the group, Arthur's voice sliced through the silence again, "Gives us a song, Charlie."

Started at the request, she stared dazed for nearly half a minute before her senses came back to her, "What? Oh, no... I couldn't." Trying to make herself disappear into her Uncle's side she added, "I'm really not even that good."

At this comment, Freddie felt the need to speak up, urging her, "Come on, Charlie, I've heard you sing before. You're better than you let on." Raising his eyebrows at her, Freddie gave her a wink that let her know exactly where he'd seen her singing before.

And in that very moment she'd never been so grateful for the fight between her brother and her sister's husband.

"I've really got to insist, Charlie. I mean, where are any of these men gonna get another chance to hear you singing, eh?" She really wished he'd take Ada and just fuck off. Didn't they have some catching up to do?

Shooting daggers at him she tried to find another way out of singing, nearly entirely sober, in front of her family. "But Tommy's rule–"

At the mention of his rules, Tommy spoke up, "Since when are you suddenly concerned about breaking my rules?" Smirking at her he continued, "Never once bothered you before."

She felt her uncle's hand come down on her shoulder, urging her forward, "Come on, Charlie — do it for Danny."

Sighing at the insistence and pure determination of the group around her, she gave in. There really wasn't any other option. "Fine."

Then pointing to the bottle in Freddie's hand she demanded, "Gimme that and lemme think." Taking a large gulp she winced as she swallowed before taking once more and passing it off to Curly.

Pausing she racked her brain for something that would be suitable for the occasion. "Alright, I got one." As a song came to mind, she closed her eyes and cleared her throat. Trying to push all other thoughts away, she cleared her mind, attempting to imagine herself in an empty room.

"I am a poor wayfaring stranger,

While traveling through this world of war.

Yet there's no sickness toil or danger,

In that bright world to which I go."

"I'm going there to see my father.

I'm going there no more to roam.

I'm only going over Jordan,

I'm only going over home."

"I know dark clouds will gather around me.

I know my way is rough and steep.

It beauty is fields lie just before me,

Where god's redeemed vigil's keep."

"I'm going there to see my mother,

She said she need me when i come.

I'm only going over Jordan,

I'm only going over home."

Finishing the song that Uncle Theo had taught her, she opened her eyes and stared at her feet waiting for someone else to break to eerie quiet that had settled.

After a moment, the men around her cleared their throats, and she heard Polly mutter an "Amen" before Tommy's voice rang clear, announcing that drinks would be on the house for today. Ready to leave the day's events in the past the group of blinders rushed out of the small room, leaving Charlotte behind, unnoticed.

It wasn't long before nearly all of Small Heath had joined in the celebrations at the Garrison. People were dancing and flirting, Arthur was pouring bottomless drinks, and the men were retelling the harrowing tale of Ada's heroic speech that stayed off an all out war.

Charlotte tried to let herself be consumed in the celebrations, but instead she found herself hiding in the snug keeping Danny company.

She knew that today's outcome was better than anyone could've hoped for — given the circumstances — but the celebrations just didn't feel right. None of this felt right. Everything seemed out of place, as if all the items on the fireplace mantle had been shifted ever so slightly to the left. All the correct items were there, but nothing was exactly as it should be.

So instead of joining in the celebrations, telling tall tales, having a dance, or sneaking glasses of whiskey that on any other day she'd be easily caught red handed, she sat alone in the shadows with a dead man as company.

She'd managed to be left alone for nearly an hour replaying the day's events in her head when inspiration came to her.

Cracking open the window that separated her hideaway from the roar of the bustling pub she was able to snatch a pencil and some sort of diary without anyone being the wiser.

Flipping through the pages to the book she'd grabbed, she discovered that it was one of the books Arthur kept for tracking the shipments coming and going through Uncle Charlie's yard. The book was only half used, and she figured nobody would mind a few missing pages from the back. So, making herself comfortable next to Danny — who'd become a lovely companion for this day — she got to writing down some of the prose that had flitted through her mind.

Scribbling away she'd occasionally speak out loud — as if Danny would respond — testing her words on the air. It was one thing to write a song in a book; it was an entirely different matter to hear the thing out loud.

Mumbling the words out loud without a tune she wasn't quite sure that they felt right. "This is why we fight, why we lay awake, with arms unbound." Taking a moment to let the words hang in the air she made a decision, "No, you're right Danny — that's not it."

Bowing her head to the book, she continued to let the words flow through the pencil until she felt peace with what had developed at her hand.

"Come the war... Come hell... Come attrition." She was developing a tune for the words, "This is why we fight. And when we die, we will die with our arms unbound."

Humming a potential tune to match her words, she thought that she'd better remember it clearly to sing to Ezra next time she got a chance. She'd never been much for writing the music itself, preferring to stick to the lyrics. Ezra had tried to give her some lessons, but in the end it was always him and Johnny putting notes to her words while she sat back and listened to them work.

"How long have you been in here?"

She hadn't heard the door open. She'd been so focused on the words spilling from her mind that she nearly broke the tip of the pencil when she spasmed after hearing Tommy's question.

"Holy hell! Don't do that!"

Turning behind him, he spoke to someone just outside the snug before entering and closing the door behind him.

Standing at the door, he looked to her, shirt covered in his own blood and bandage showing through where Jeremiah had ripped the fabric before instructing him to remove it entirely so he could pull the bullet from his chest. "Well?"

Still trying to calm her breathing from the fright he'd given her she quipped, "Well, what?"

"How long you been here with him?"

Placing the pencil inside the book she was writing in, she tried to close it and slide it beneath the table top unnoticed. "Dunno. A while, I guess."

"Why aren't you out there with everyone else?" He asked in honest curiosity.

Throwing his words back at him she questioned, "Why aren't YOU out there with everyone else?"

Pursing his lips together he nodded in thought, eyes shifting to the ceiling at her remark before conceding, "That's fair."

Then stepping towards her, he pointed to the place where she'd just tried to hide the stolen book, "What do you have there?"

Trying to act dumb she replied, "Hmmm? What?" Maybe he would drop it.

No such luck. Raising an eyebrow he again pointed to the location of the stollen contraband, "What's the book, Charlie?"

"What? Oh... Em... This?" Quickly raising the book she let him have a flash of a look before once again hiding it below the table top. "It's nothing. Really."

"Nothing?" His voice was suspicious.

"Yup." Stay casual. Nothing to see here.

"Well then if it's nothing, why don't you hand it here?"

"Nah... I wouldn't want to waste your time." That was a stupid thing to stay.

"I'm sure I might be more interested than you give me credit for." He kept his voice light and casual, matching her tone, as if they were playing some game.

"Yeah... Well... You should just trust me on this one. I'm your sister — I know the types of things that keep your interest, and this isn't really one of them." That was never gonna work. She knew it the second the words left her mouth.

"Is that so?" He wasn't gonna let up.

"Yup." She was just digging herself a hole.

"Well, I'm your brother and I know the types of things that you like to hide from me. And those things are generally subjects that I find extremely worthy of my interest." Damn it.

One last try, "I don't think–"

"Give it here, Charlie." His tone had changed from a soft formal joking to a cold calculated demand. He wasn't playing her game anymore. She knew it was generally not in her best interest to argue with him when his mood changed so quickly like this.

Sighing at him she gave in, "Fine," and pulling the book out from beneath the table she thrust it in his direction, "Here."

Once it was in his hands he admonished, "This is Arthur's."

"Good detective skills you got there. You ever considered turning away from your life of crime and debauchery? You'd make one hell of a copper." Distract him with her smartass attitude and maybe he'd ignore the book.

Bending his head, he flipped through the pages of the book he'd just confiscated. At her comment his eyes blinked up, giving her a glare without ever moving his neck — almost daring her to say something else.

He knew what she was doing; he would not be distracted.

Returning his eyes to the pages he pointedly ignored her smartass reply, "What are you doing with this? This isn't legal business, Charlie. You need to stay out of it." Continuing to flip through the pages he didn't bother looking up at her as he issued his command.

"I wasn't looking at the shipments. I just needed the paper. That's all."

Finally turning to the page where the pencil had been stuffed, he read what she wrote out loud, "...And all my life I've been burdened by the dreams I've had now I want to run..." Dragging his finger down the length of the page he reached another line she'd written down.

"...Oh my brother, your wisdom is older than me. Don't you worry about me..."

Turning the page he searched for more. Squinting his eyes, he slightly rotated the book in an attempt to decipher her chicken scratch.

Whenever she scribbled rhymes down she wasn't concerned with her penmanship. It was sloppy at best. Then she'd go through and scratch out words here and there, add in a word that sounded better later, doodle clouds and flowers, and generally just make a ruckus of the paper itself. At the end of the day the whole thing would be mostly illegible.

But that was kinda the point. It wasn't for anyone other than herself.

Snorting an almost laugh, Tommy mumbled a line that caused him to crack a grin.

"...Who gives a damn about the family you come from, no giving up when you're young..."

Hoping that he might be finished, she reached her hand out, wordlessly demanding that he return the book to her. However, his finger drew down the page further, once again finding something interesting to read aloud to her.

"...Now I'm sitting alone, and I'm looking for help. Left here on my own, I'm gonna hurt myself..."

Pausing, he looked from the book to her, then back down to the scribbled words.

"What's all this, Charlie?"

Lowering her hand in defeat she shrugged, "Just rhymes. Only thoughts for now."

"These songs?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Mhhmm..." Grunting at her he turned his face back to the book.

A look of concern crossed his face, "That's all these are? Just thoughts and rhymes for songs."

Exasperated with him she breathed, "Yes." Waiting to see what he'd do she added, "Now, would you stop? Those are private."

"Not so private when you're writing them down in Arthur's shipment diary."

"Yeah, well, I was gonna rip those pages out before anyone saw." Holding her hand out she demanded, "Give it back."

Looking up to her, he cocked an eyebrow.

"Please." It was more of a growl than a proper request.

Closing the book he handed it back, "Make sure this gets back to Arthur when your done with it."

"Sure." Stuffing the book back under the table, she questioned, "But you didn't come in here to read me own words back to me. What is it you want?"

Sighing and motioning to Danny he informed, "We've got to take him now."

"Oh." Her peaceful retreat had to end sometime.

"His family needs a chance to say 'goodbye', Charlie." It wasn't a lecture, just information for her.

"Yeah, I know. It's fine — I'm fine." She knew get words weren't very convincing. But she also knew he wasn't going to question her now. Tommy had other things on his mind — that much was obvious to a blind person.

Nodding to her, Tommy turned back to the door, beckoning Scudboat and Curly in, "Let's get him taken care of now, boys."

Watching as they lifted Danny off of the table and deftly manoeuvred his body out the front doors, Charlotte was surprised to find that she was trailing behind them. She hadn't meant to leave her place in the snug, but now she felt she had to see Danny off.

She looked on as they loaded Danny into the back of the wagon, not really listening as Tommy gave the men orders. Still watching as they finished their conversation, she stood still as Tommy returned to stand next to her, both of them silent as the vehicle barrelled down the lane and out of view.

Once the truck was gone, Tommy turned to her, breaking the calm quiet of the night, "Go back inside, tell Polly I'll be back."

"Where you going?"

Shaking his head he repeated himself, "Go back inside, Charlotte. I'll be back later."

Growling at him she rolled her eyes in despair at his unstoppable demanding nature. "Fine."

"Don't leave the Garrison." More demands.

"Fine." If he wasn't going to tell her what he was going to do, she was going to be as short with him as she could.

"I mean it." His voice became gravely.

"I know you do."

"Charlotte..." It was a warning.

Turning on her heel she began walking away from him, hoping to get in the last word for once, "I said 'fine', Tommy. I'll do it; I'll stay in the Garrison."

This time it was Tommy's turn to shake his head and roll his eyes before striding forward into the shadows of Small Heath, unfinished business consuming his mind.

Back inside the party was still raging on. Standing in the entryway she looked around for her sister. Unfortunately, rather than spotting Ada, she saw John making his way across the floor striding toward her, an angry grimace plastered across his face.

Not wanting another altercation she dove into the crowd hoping to lose him in the chaos. Snaking her way through the crowd that had seemingly tripled since that afternoon she made her way to the back of the room, pausing at the piano to make sure she'd left her brother behind.

As she turned she came face to face with Theo. "Jesus! Don't stand so close, you scared me!" Laughing at the fright he'd given her, he pulled her into him, apologising and giving her a kiss on the head.

Pushing him away she questioned, "When did you get here?"

"Not too long ago. Ezra's over there with the preacher's son getting drinks."

Turning to look across the room she spotted Ezra and Isaiah leaning against the bar, waiting for their pints from Arthur. "So they are. Let's find a seat then, shall we?"

Looking for a suitable place to sit, Charlotte discovered that every damn chair in the place was taken. Turning to a few of the men seated in a booth by the widow she announced, "I think you boys were about finished with this booth, isn't that right?"

Without turning to look at her, one of the men waved her off, "Fuck off."

Refusing to be waved off, Charlotte leaned in, deciding to use her family name to her benefit, "You see, I'm looking for a place to sit with me friends here. And if I can't find a place to sit, I'm likely to leave this pub in search of a better way to spend me time."

Then men at the table grew irritated with her presence, and at her lecture to them, the leader turned red-faced to her, "I said, 'fuck off', girly."

Trying to seem unaffected at his burly anger she continued on as if she hadn't been interrupted, "But I don't think Tommy Shelby would be too happy with the men that let his kid sister go wandering around Small Heath after this day's events, would you?" At the mention of her brother's name, she finally had the men's undivided attention, "So, you were just leaving — isn't that right?"

Finally realising who exactly she was, and what the consequences of their frightful behaviour could entail from her brothers, the leader decided it was in their best interest to obey the scrawny Shelby standing before them. Nodding at her, and with frightened looks on their faces, the men that had once occupied her booth, were now scattered across the pub.

As the men scattered away, Ezra and Isaiah scampered up, pints in hand.

Motioning for them to take a seat Theo marvelled at her authority over the older men, "Would you look at that, boys? So much power in such a little person."

"If you think that's special, you should really stick around longer," Ezra grinned as he inhaled his beer, "If she wanted to, our Charlie girl here could have any man in this place handing over his wallet along with his cap and jacket by the time I'm done with this drink."

Laughing at him, Charlotte pointed out, "Which, at the rate you're going, will be any second now."

"We were told that the drinks were on the house tonight — so what's stopping me?" Well, he's not wrong there.

"Your better judgement?"

Grinning at her he winked, "What's that?"

Rolling his eyes, Isaiah turned to Theo, "Here we go. You better stop them before this becomes an all out, old married couple's argument."

Nodding in agreement Theo started, "Alright you two. Ez — why don't you tell Charlie the news?"

"You tell her. I'm going for another." And he was off. Laughing at his retreat, Charlotte yelled after him, "Get me a whiskey — Irish!" Then looking to Theo, she waited for an explanation.

"Him and that traveler friend of yours have managed to get a time at the Commons for next week. Isn't that great?"

Looking around for any eavesdroppers she hissed at him, "Keep it down. Nobody around here knows about that." Then as an afterthought, she added, "Except for Isaiah here... And Aunt Polly... And Ada... And apparently Freddie." Sighing she continued, "Might not actually be that much of a secret after all."

"What's that?" Ezra had reappeared, her whiskey in one hand and his pint in the other. "The Commons." She muttered to him, "Lots more people know than I originally thought."

Seemingly unworried about the prospect of their secret getting out he told her, "Well, as long as Tommy doesn't know... That's all that matters right?"

Raising her glass to him she nodded, "Right you are." She didn't want to dwell on the potential disasters that lay in her future. Today was weighing on her enough, no need to add anything more to her burden.

As the four clinked their glasses and toasted to nothing, Charlotte's mood began to perk up. Here she was, spending some quality time with her best friend, planning their next gig together. "So when will you be available to practice with us? Monday night we'll be at JP's cousins place. He's letting us use the back room. Johnny's gonna be there, and even Theo's gonna play with us this time."

Turning to Theo she sarcastically questioned, "Theo? You got your heart set on fame on the big stage?"

Rolling his eyes he told them, "More like, got my heart set on getting out of my sister's house for the night!"

Laughing at the implication she told Ezra, "Well, I think I can make it on Monday. Might have to do some sneaking around, but I'll be there."

"Try not to get into too much trouble, Charlie." Uncle Theo gave her a joking glare, but underneath the facade, she knew his warning was serious.

"I never TRY to get into trouble, Theo. It just happens that way. And besides, it looks like Tommy's got his mind set on me going back to school. So I'll have a fair amount of unsupervised time on me hands."

Ezra rolled his eyes, and Isaiah mumbled, "She's gonna get in trouble, alright."

Grinning at him, Charlotte gave him a wink before announcing she was ready for another round. "Big trouble, mate. Big trouble."

As the evening wound down, and the citizens of Small Heath slowly filtered out of the Garrison headed toward their homes, the Shelby family found that they were still waiting on the return of Tommy.

Ada and Freddie had gone off, promising to come by Watery Lane sometime tomorrow. But that had seemingly been hours ago, and here they sat in the darkness, still waiting for Tommy to return.

"Where's he gone, Pol?"

"I've got an idea, but I'm hoping I'm wrong." Polly voice was filled with concern.

"Grace?" Based on everything that had happened today, it was Charlotte's best guess as to what could possibly have Tommy out this late, with everyone waiting on him.

"Grace."

"Why's that got you all worried?" No response. "Aunt Pol?"

"Because it was real, sweetheart." Polly sounded on the verge of tears.

"...Don't call me that..."

Absently she remembered Charlotte's new aversion to the term. "Oh, yes, love. I'm sorry. Come here." Pulling Charlotte into her, she brought her hand up to cradle her cheek. Rubbing her thumb over a small white scar just above Charlotte's left eyebrow, Polly sighed, smiling down at her. She blinked and a lone tear fell down her face, not bothering to wipe it away, she kissed the top of Charlotte's head, mumbling, "You're a good girl, Charlie, my love."

Uncomfortable with this emotional side of her aunt, Charlotte tired to get Poly to focus on her brother, "But what do you mean, Pol? What was real?"

"The love they shared. It was real. And there's nothing more alluring in our life — living in the underbelly of Birmingham — than something as beautiful and shiny as real mutual love and affection." Sighing, Polly let her hand drop from Charlotte's face. "That brother of yours is torn. He's got to make a decision tonight between his duty and love for us, and his desire for something as beautiful as what Grace can offer him."

"Do you think he'll leave us? Do you think she'd convince him to leave?" The thought that Tommy would leave their family had never occurred to her before. Since the war he seemed to have no interest in anything but the Shelby family business. She supposed it was naive and maybe selfish of her to think that Tommy would never fall in love and move on from their little home on Watery Lane. What would she do without him? The question had never seemed so urgent before.

"I don't know what I think, love." Lighting her cigarette and taking a long drag she added, "But whatever happens, you have us. Don't you ever think otherwise."

"I know, Aunt Pol." Then pulling away she moved toward the back room. "I'm hungry. You want anything?"

"I'm not sure there's much back there to be had."

"There's some biscuits. Unless someone else ate them already." Then disappearing, she returned a moment later triumphant in her biscuit conquest. "Got 'em!"

Holding one out for her Aunt, Polly shook her head and took another drag from her cigarette. Shrugging she moved to sit at a table, determined to enjoy her dinner.

As she sat munching on her minuscule meal Charlotte suddenly felt a presence over right shoulder. Not in the mood for another argument she tried to halt any sort of discussion before it could start, "Fuck off, John. I don't know what's gotten into you, but I'm not interested."

"I don't care what you're interested in." Swallowing air, John tried his damnedest to get his words out, but instead he found he was tripping over every syllable that came out. "You and me– We got business with– With– With your stunt today."

Refusing to turn to face him she quipped, "As you can see, I'm busy with me supper." Then motioning her hand toward Polly she continued, "Why don't you go ahead and see my secretary and she'll be able to make an appointment for you to have this discussion at a later time." Hearing Polly snort from the bar, Charlotte grinned and continued, "Or you can fuck off and leave me alone. Your choice."

Moving around to stand in front of her, John leaned against the table and drunkenly told her, "You– You and me– We're not done... Talking."

"Jesus Christ, you're knackered." Rising from her chair, Charlotte moved to stand next to her aunt at the bar. She knew that John wouldn't try anything too stupid with Polly at her side. "Keep your words to yourself, nobody else here is interested in listening to them. And if you start in on me again, I swear to God I'll knock you flat on your ass."

Swaying on his feet he attempted to threaten her, "I'd like to see you try."

That was laughable, "Everyone here knows I'm a better fighter than you on your best day. So just shut up and finish your pint over there with Arthur."

At the mention of his name Arthur suddenly saw the opportunity toss his hat into the ring, "Would you two shut up? Yammering on and on. You're giving me a headache." Leaning forward he rested his head in his hands and continued mumbling to himself. Fucking hell, these brother's of hers were so drunk that lighting a match would set the place up in flames.

Choosing to ignore his brother, John attempted in bringing himself up to his full height and took a wobbling step in Charlotte's direction. Apparently he thought it a good idea to ready himself for a fight, and in his state, Charlotte would be only too happy to oblige.

Pushing herself off of the bar, she tried to take a step in his direction, only to find herself being shoved into the closet chair by her aunt. "I don't know what's gotten into the two of you, but if either you take one more step in the other's direction I swear to God almighty both of you will regret it."

Pointing a finger in Charlotte's direction she admonished, "You know better." Then turning to John she added, "Sit your ass down in that booth and drink your beer."

Watching as John returned to his pint next to Arthur, Charlotte released the breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding. This was exhausting, Tommy needed to hurry up. Turning to Polly as she nervously paced up and down the length of the bar, Charlotte whined, "Where the fuck is Tommy, anyway? I wanna go home."

"Hush. We're all waiting here for him to come back. Nobody is going home."

"But, Pol — what if Tommy isn't planning on coming back tonight?"

And as if she'd conjured him like a genie, the man in question suddenly appeared before them. As the set of double doors slammed closed behind him, the sleeping men around the room shifted in their seats at the racket, and Charlotte rose from her table to stand with her aunt at the bar.

From across the room, Arthur and John sleepily raised their glasses and acknowledged their brother's appearance, "There he is."

Rolling her eyes at her nephew's drunken mumblings Polly offered, "Drink?"

Contemplating her offer, Tommy slowly made his way to the bar. As he reached the place where his aunt stood he seemed to have finally made up his mind, "Not whisky."

Motioning with his arm he continued, "If you check behind the bar..." At his words both Polly and Charlotte moved to search the location he'd just pointed out. But before Charlotte could take two steps Tommy's arm was in her way — preventing any further movement. "Not you."

Then pointing to a table in front of him he wordlessly instructed her to take a seat. Sighing as she sat, she heard him continue to Polly, "...You will find a bottle of champagne."

As Polly searched in the dark for the bottle, Charlotte watched her brother closely. Taking a drag from his cigarette he rolled his head back and leaned against the bar — clearly exhausted. His every movement seemed to shout out his pain and suffering from the day's activities.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled deeply before looking in her direction. Raising an eyebrow, he narrowed his gaze — eyeing her as if to question, "What are you looking at?" Shrugging at him in response, both siblings were distracted as Polly placed the found bottle on the bar.

Glaring at the bottle as if it had personally offended her, Polly added, "The one she bought."

Turning to face both Polly and the bottle, he nodded in confirmation of her words, before reaching out and taking hold of the bottle. Staring at it curiously, Charlotte thought for a split second that he might've started to cry. Instead he began to unwrap the cork, speaking low to his aunt as he did so, "Today was a good day." Not looking up from the bottle in his hands, Tommy continued, "All of Kimber's men were busy here, so the Lee boys took all the pitches at the Worcester races."

Turning with the bottle still in hand, he moved toward the booth that John and Arthur still sat in, "It couldn't have gone better if we'd planned it." His words were positive, but his voice held so much sorrow. It made Charlotte uncomfortable, the level of emotion that he was emitting at this moment.

As Tommy made his way to his brothers, he raised his voice, ensuring the drunkard's would be awake for the remainder of his speech. "The Shelby Family Limited is now the third largest legal race track operation in the country."

"Cheers!" Charlotte watched on as the three of them clinked their glasses together. She thought it unlikely that John and Arthur would remember this moment in the morning.

"Only the Sabinis and the Solomons are bigger than us, boys." Turning to walk back toward the bar, Tommy stopped between the table she sat at and the booth the boy's occupied before laughing falsely, adding, "And all my family is here to celebrate."

Looking to her aunt for an explanation over Tommy's surly attitude, Charlotte was given a swift shake of the head and a dark glare that told her to leave it be.

Suddenly all thoughts of Tommy's strange behaviour were gone as he popped the top of the champagne, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin, "To Shelby Family Limited." Raising the overflowing bottle above his head, Tommy smiled sourly as his brother's cheered his toast in return with a smattering of nonsensical salutes,

"Shelby!"

"Family!"

"Cheers."

Bottle still bubbling over, Tommy turned to their aunt — still standing behind the bar — his smile immediately removed from his face, as if it had never been there to begin with. He looked to be a shadow of his regular self. Bloodied and drained he didn't even try to step into the role of the towering figure he normally held. He was broken.

Walking forward he filled up two empty glasses that Polly had placed in front of him, before sighing heavily and resting his head on the table. This was more than exhaustion... This was some kind of emotion she'd never seen on Tommy before. This was unknown...

She watched silently as Polly reached forward to smooth Tommy's head, whispering, "There'll be others."

Raising his head at their aunt's words, stared at her for a long moment before raising the bottle in a toast, "To the others. All of them."

Watching as Tommy turned to look around the room, Charlotte was surprised when he sat at her table, handing over the second glass of champagne. Taking it from him, she was told, "That's it for the night." Nodding at him, she drank from the glass as he reached forward and snatched a biscuit from the package sitting in front of her.

Smirking at him, she drained her glass before resting her head on her arms and closing her eyes, happy to just sit in silence with the majority of her family surrounding her. Her mind slowed and her final thought before the fatigue overcame her was that she felt safe — safer than she'd felt in weeks.

Tommy wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting in the dark pub house, contemplating Grace's offer when he got the sudden urge for action. Looking around the room at his family — nearly every one of them sleeping in a drunken slumber — he knew he couldn't see Grace again. The temptation was too strong.

In the back of his mind he knew he could never completely close the door on her. He'd never fully be able to say no to her — or yes for that matter. These people here in this room — and Ada and Freddie across town — this was his life. This was what he worked so hard for. Saying yes to Grace meant abandoning them; abandoning everything that he loved and worked so hard for.

But saying no was also an abandonment of everything he wanted for the future. He was torn between his firm knowledge in what he had now in his present, and the possibility of what the future could hold. But what future could he survive without the protection of Arthur and John at his side? Or Charlotte's calculating mind that always provided new and interesting perspectives? Or Ada's all encompassing love that kept them alive? Or Polly's flat out brilliance in everything she set her mind to? He was left with an impossible decision.

Once again looking around the room, Tommy couldn't help but crack a grin at the scene that surrounded him. John and Arthur slept in a booth, five or six empty pint glasses scattered around the table in front of them. The two were slightly snoozing away, leaning against each other like children.

His sister sat in the chair opposite him at the small circular table in the middle of the room. Her head resting on her arms, making small wheezing noises through her nose as she slept.

Uncle Charlie was propped up against the window at the front of the pub, his snores causing small clouds of condensation to form on the cold glass every time he breathed out.

And Polly was at the bar, back against the hard wood of the counter top, arms lounging on either side of herself. Wide awake, smoking a cigarette, and staring at him. She was clearly lost in her own thoughts, but it unnerved him nonetheless.

Clearing his throat he stood and announced, "I'm going to take care of a few last things in the shop, Pol." Pulling a cigarette out and lighting it, he motioned to his sleeping sister, "Will you make sure she gets home tonight? I don't want her sleeping here."

Walking toward the doors he added, "Your room is always there for you as well, if you'd wish to stay."

"Thank you, Thomas. But I'd just as soon sleep in my own bed this night." Sliding away from bar she made her way to him. Placing her hand on the top of his head, she pulled him to her and kissed his cheek. "You're a good man, Thomas. Everything that you've done for these fools..." Sweeping her arm across the pub, she acknowledged the room filled with his family. "They might never know what you've sacrificed today, but you're a good man for doing it for them."

Nodding at her, her tried to leave all sentiments of goodness and humbleness behind. She couldn't know of his wavering faith in himself. "Hmmhm. Thanks, Pol."

Pushing open the door he once again turned and motioned with his cigarette to the girl sleeping in the table, "Pol?"

She looked so small, his baby sister. So peaceful, as if nothing in the whole of the world could bother her. Polly was right, he'd made a sacrifice today for his family. And looking at his sister sleeping on that table he knew he'd do it all over again if need be.

She looked as if she were nine years old again. She looked... She looked... He couldn't quite find the word he was looking for. He could never call her innocent — there wasn't a single day in her life that she wasn't a terror, a demon sent from hell straight to earth with the sole purpose of testing his patience. Maybe just less mischievous than usual.

He knew she'd been having a hard time lately — trying to find her place in all this. And he truly hoped that scheduling her into a routine would help her. She was wild, she was opinionated, she was a force of nature, and he wanted nothing more in the world than for her to succeed. But there were times that he thought he might agree with Polly on Charlie's involvement in this business. Maybe she wasn't made for this life. Maybe she was destined for bigger and better things.

He feared that he might be holding her back. But he also feared that without his guidance and influence she'd lose out on the opportunities that the business might provide.

Breaking through his thoughts, Polly's voice reached him, "You go on, now. Don't worry. I'll wake her and walk her home when I'm finished here." Then as a joke she added, "You know I did manage to keep her alive all those years you were in France."

"That you did. A fine job too, Pol."

Then stepping into the dark night he pulled his jacket tight around himself, shifting his thoughts to Grace.

"Come on, Charlie. Time to go home."

Once again Charlotte heard the voice of her aunt interrupting her dreams, dragging her back to consciousness.

"Huh?" What was it she wanted this time? She wished her aunt would just let her sleep.

Shaking her shoulders, Polly continued, "Open your eyes. Come on now, Charlie."

Obeying her aunt Charlotte opened her eyes and looking around the room it took her a moment to remember where she was. The Garrison.

Looking to Polly, she questioned, "How long have I been asleep?"

"Not too long, but it's time to go home. Come on, up you go." Reaching under Charlotte's arms Polly heaved Charlotte to her feet, ushering her to the double doors of the pub.

Looking around she noticed her brother was missing, "Where's Tommy?"

"Has some business to finish up in the shop. He wanted to let you sleep." Striding across the room Polly picked up a jacket off of an abandoned chair and handed it to her niece, "Not sure who this belongs to, but it looks like it'll fit."

Shrugging on the jacket, Charlotte pulled it tight around her and followed her aunt through the doors and out into the cold December night. As Polly took the lead walking down the lane, Charlotte felt the need to ask her aunt about Tommy's earlier activities, "You think Grace is gonna stay?"

"Not if she knows what's good for her." That was ominous.

"Is Tommy gonna be alright?"

Shrugging Polly muttered, "He will be. In time."

Charlotte was getting frustrated with the lack of information her aunt was willing to offer. "How much time?"

"Hard to say. But I'd suggest you try to keep on his good side for the foreseeable future."

"It's not like I aim to be on his bad side — it just happens that way."

"Well, I think you'd save yourself a whole lot of trouble if you can manage to stay outta trouble, that's all I'm saying. Follow the rules, do as he asks, and you'll be just fine." Arriving at number five Polly pulled out her keys, unlocking the door for Charlotte, "Here you are. Get inside, and lock the door."

Turning to question her Aunt, Charlotte nearly begged, "You're not staying?"

"I'm going home, Charlotte."

"But, you could stay..." Now she really was begging.

Shaking her head, Polly pushed Charlotte inside her home, "It's been a long day. I think we'd both like the comfort of our own beds. Goodnight, love."

Still standing with the door wide open, she tried to argue, "But Pol, it's just the two of us. Couldn't you–"

Interrupting her protestations Polly's firm voice brooked no argument, "There's no getting out of it, my girl. You'll have to face him on your own sooner or later. Just get it over with." Then turning on her heel Polly began to walk away. Sighing, Charlotte watched her aunt walk away, attempting to dredge up the courage to turn and take the first step inside when she heard Polly's voice once more, "And, Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

Speaking from over her shoulder, Polly kept on walking, "He's expecting you. So no sneaking out the back door, once I'm round the corner."

Damn it all. Everyone knew her too well. Sulking, Charlotte turned and took the first step into the warm home. Dutifully locking the door behind her, she walked through the sitting room into the kitchen. Wanting to avoid any kind of discussion, she hoped to get up the stairs before being spotted, but as usual — no such luck. The doors separating the dining area from the shop were wide open, and Tommy looked up from his seat at his desk at her appearance. Motioning her to him with a wave of his hand, she reluctantly made her way to his office. Hoping that she could still make this a short interaction she leaned against the doorframe — not fully entering the office, "Whatcha doing, Tom?"

Ignoring her question he asked, "Did you lock up?"

"Yes." It was barely a word. More of a frustrated sigh of a confirmation. Nodding at her, Tommy pulled a piece of paper from the typewriter and folded it with care.

Pointing to his paper she questioned, "What's that you got there?"

"Just a letter." It was technically an answer. Not much information to go off of though. Not wanting to push it, she hoped that this could be her chance to make a break for her bed. "Right. Well, night then." Turning, she attempted to move to the stairs before his voice had her pausing in her tracks.

"Hold on just a minute."

Sighing she turned back to face him, trying not to sound as whiny as she felt she stared, "Tommy please just leave–"

"No. It's my turn to speak, Charlotte." Serious voice. "Take a seat." He seemed composed as he finished folding the letter and searched his drawers for an envelope.

Throwing herself into the chair across from him, she folded her arms and pursed her lips, waiting for him to start his lecture.

Inserting his letter into its carrier he pointedly ignored her small tantrum as he started in, "That stunt you pulled today with Ada... That might very well be the stupidest thing you've ever done, you know that?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Charlotte decided that her best bet here was to keep her mouth shut.

Pursing his lips he narrowed his eyes at her and continued on, "Watching you storm right into the middle of that fight today..." Trailing off, she could see his frustration bubble to the surface as he searched for the right words. "Damn it, kid. Haven't we talked about you thinking before you act? You can't go doing that shit." Pausing again he waited to see if she'd respond. When she shrugged again he lowered his voice and continued his lecture, "You didn't even have your gun on you. What the fuck happened to that?"

Well that was an easy answer, "It didn't fit in any of my pockets."

He did not like that response, "So you didn't take it at all?" His voice was incredulous. He honestly couldn't possibly believe the response she'd just given him.

Shrugging in response, she knew he wouldn't like any answer she gave, so she chose not to give one.

Raising his voice he leaned across his desk towards her, "You just figured that you'd go marching into a war zone without any sort of weapon, because it didn't fit in your fucking pockets?"

That wasn't fair, this wasn't her fault. It was all Ada's bright idea. And he was the one that left her behind! "I didn't know I'd be marching into a war zone when we left. Ada wouldn't tell me her plan until I could hear your voice yelling about guns. And besides, it was Small Heath in the middle of the day, not the most dangerous scene."

Leaning back in his chair he seemed fed up with her lack of forethought, "Come on, Charlotte. You of all people should know that a situation can become dangerous in the blink of an eye."

"That's not fair!" Rising from the chair she slammed her hand on his desk, "What happened with the copper was entirely different–"

"Sit down." His voice was cold and hard. She shouldn't have yelled at him. That rarely ended well for her. Stepping away from him, she leaned her weight onto her back foot trying to put as much distance as possible between them, but also not entirely backing away from a fight.

Taking a deep breath he started up again, "I'm not saying it's the same–" Cutting himself off he questioned, "Would you please sit down?" Motioning to the chair, he waited until she was seated again before continuing, "I'm just saying that you should recognise by now that Small Heath isn't as safe as it use to be. And you should always be prepared. Alright?"

Turning her head to stare out the office door she wordlessly nodded at him.

"Say it." He was the absolute worst.

"I'll be more careful." Mumbling out the words, she still refused to look at him.

"Right, well, stop pouting. I got a present for ya."

Turning to face him, she narrowed her eyes, not quite believing him, "Yeah?"

"I was planning on giving it to you if you followed orders today; did as you were told." There was the catch. He had a present, but he wasn't gonna give it to her. What an ass.

"Oh, come on–"

Interrupting her he questioned, "Now, would you say that you followed orders today, Charlie?" Fucking hell.

"Tommy..." She wasn't going to go down this power trip with him.

"Stop whining, and answer me."

Fine. He was forcing her to do this now. "I guess it depends on how strictly you define the word 'follow'." How's that for an answer, eh?

"And how's that?" Leaning back in his chair he lit a cigarette and motioned for her to explain herself.

"Well, if you recall, you told me to do a handful of things when you left this afternoon. And at the end of the day, a few of those orders became contradictory."

Cocking both a grin and an eyebrow, Tommy motioned for her to continue.

"Well, first you told me to stay with Ada and Polly. Then you told me to help Ada until Freddie came back. And then you told us to go to the Bull Ring. So really, I did most of the things you told me to do. I stayed with Ada and I helped her."

"That you did — helped her nearly get you both shot."

Rushing forward with her explanation she wanted to make it clear that this was all Ada's doing. "I wanted to do what you said. But Ada made me go with her — I swear. You can ask her. That lunatic dragged me down the lane as easily as if I were some sort of doll. She's fucking strong, Tom."

"Well, I suppose you did the best you could, given the circumstances."

This time it was her turn to sit back in her chair and crack a grin, "Wait, what was that? Is Tommy Shelby conceding that someone else might actually be right?" Leaning forward, she placed her elbows on his desk, resting her face in her hands. Widening her eyes she tried to look as cute and innocent as possible. "Say it again. I want to remember this."

Scoffing at her obvious attempt at becoming an angelic vision, he demanded, "Get offa my desk, you hellion." Then pushing her backwards by her forehead, he made she she was properly seated before opening up his desk draw and pulling out a small brown box.

As he set it in front of her, she looked at it for a moment before his voice broke through her conscious, "Well? Are you gonna open it or not?"

Reaching forward she removed the lid, looking quizzically into the box. It looked to be a bundle of leather straps. Was it a harness? Or a bridle? Taking hold of the object she still couldn't come to a conclusion on what the thing was. "Erm, What is it?"

Smirking at her, he rose from his desk, motioning her to do the same. Sticking his cigarette between his lips and taking the leather straps from her hands, he moved to stand behind her, instructing, "Hold your arms out to the sides."

Sliding the stirrups over her arms and up onto her shoulders, he turned her to face him, and as he worked to tighten the straps it finally came to her, "This is mine? For my gun? Really?"

"Of course, Charlie." As he finished tightening the leather around her shoulders he took a step back to examine her in her new shoulder holster. "Just wish I'd given it to you at the beginning of the day. Then you wouldn't have showed up empty handed to a gunfight."

"It's perfect, Tommy, thank you."

Walking back around to sit in his chair, Tommy gave her a wink and made a nearly impossible request, "Let's just try to keep this from Polly for as long as possible, eh?"

"Em..." That was never gonna work. Polly's uncanny psychic ability meant she probably already knew about Tommy's gift. And if Tommy were thinking straight, he'd know this himself.

Flicking his ashes to floor he continued, "I don't need her going on and on about how dangerous it is for you to be carrying around a gun."

"Well, I think Aunt Polly's more concerned with you at the moment, than with me."

"What makes you think that?" He couldn't be serious.

"She all but told me. She's worried about you and Grace." Come on brother, get your head together, of course Polly was gonna worry.

"That's nothing she needs to be worrying herself over." Well, that was utter bullshit.

"But, Tommy..." Hell, she might as well just ask, there was no sugar coating this one, "What about Grace?"

His back straightened and he turned his head to look out the small window, "What about her?"

There were so many questions she wanted to ask — might as well start at the beginning, "She gone?"

"I don't know." He was blowing her off.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean, I don't know, Charlie." He was starting to get irritated, that much was obvious, but there was no stopping her questions now. She was too tired and her filter was all but destroyed.

"Well, are you gonna go after her?"

"I think that's enough. Time for bed." He still wouldn't look at her. Fuck that.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Tommy. You can't just send me to bed because you don't wanna answer tough questions or face the facts. It doesn't work like that anymore."

Finally turning to look her full in the face he leaned in and narrowed his eyes; his voice turning the room chilly, "Last time I checked, you were still fifteen and I was still your older brother — and guardian. So I think it works exactly like that." Taking a drink from the champagne bottle next to him he added, "Now, I believe I told you it's time for bed. I'm not in the mood to–"

"Why won't you go after her?"

"And what, Charlie?" Raising his voice, he nearly shouted at her, "Bring her back here to Small Heath?" His voice was full of sarcasm and criticism. It was clear he thought the question was ridiculous, but she wasn't backing down.

"Why not? If she loves you–"

"Right then. That's the crux of the issue here isn't it? Love. Family. It's all wrapped together like a ribbon." Looking around his desk, he had clearly reached a point where he wanted something stronger than champagne. Pulling open his bottom desk drawer he reached in and pulled out his half full bottle of rum and drank straight from the bottle.

Flinching as he slammed the now nearly empty bottle down on his desk, Tommy continued on in his explanation, "I love this family, Charlie. Everything I've done has been for you and Ada and John and..." Listening intently she waited for him to continue after trailing off. When — after nearly a minute of silence — he still hadn't started talking again she worried, unsure if she should press him further or leave him be to sit in silence.

Finally taking a deep breath, he seemed to gather himself, "Love is a complicated matter. And I'd just as soon have this discussion another time."

Frustrated with his stoic resistance against this conversation she tried to explain, "We all just want you to be happy Tommy. We love you too, but–"

Exasperated he stopped her, "Damnit, Charlie. I love you, I do. But if you don't shut your mouth and help me to bed I might just strangle you."

And that was the end of the line. No more questions. She could tell he wasn't going to have any of it. His final joke was his way of telling her he couldn't continue — emotionally or physically.

She could now either laugh it off, or press him further. In an effort to preserve both of their sanities she made the decision to let him have this one. Time to move on, join in on his joke. "Strangle me? How you gonna do that? You got one good arm."

Relief flooded through him at her joke. She could see a monumental weight lifted off of him at her willingness to leave the 'Grace' question alone, "Right you are. I guess I'll have to get someone else to do it for me... Maybe John?"

"Ugh. Fucking John. Can you get him to lay off? I don't know what his problem is, but he needs to take it up with someone else."

"I think he's just worried–"

"I don't care. He squeezed by wrist so tight today he made me lose my grip on that glass... If he comes at me again, I'm gonna knock him out, Tommy. I swear to God I'll do it."

"I know you will." Standing from his seat, he took hold of his bottle of bubbly wine, and motioned for her to exit the office with him. "I'll have a talk with him. Now come help me up stairs."

"What you need help with?"

"I gotta get this shirt off — it's covered in me own blood. And these bandage needs refreshing. So it looks like you're gonna be my doctor tonight."

"Right then, Mr. Shelby. Please follow me this way to my surgery." Waltzing out of her brother's office, Charlotte made her way up the stairs and into the washroom, her injured brother not far behind.

A/N: Thank you all for you patience in waiting for this chapter. I've been traveling, dealing with the stomach flu, and barely managing to tolerate all my family and in-laws during this holiday season. I hope you enjoy, and please be patient in waiting for chapter eleven.