TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE, DEPRESSION, SUICIDE & SUICIDAL IDEATIONS FROM POSTPARTUM DEPRESSION

AN: This chapter will jump through time as Lucia and the Shelby's grow up. For reference:

Arthur (b. 1887). Tommy (b. 1890), Lucia (b. 1891), Ada (b. 1893), John (b. 1895), and Finn (b. 1908)

On First Meetings - 1897

Lucia first stepped foot into the Shelby household when she was six years old. Arthur, a strapping lap of nine, had found her one morning dropping rocks into the Cut alone. She put a rock into Arthur's hands and told him the rules of the game:

Rule 1: Pick the best rocks.

Rule 2: Drop the rocks into the Cut one by one to watch the water splash.

Rule 3: Throw the smallest rock as far as possible. The farthest rock thrown wins. If a rock hits a boat, a barge, or a person, the thrower wins by default.

Lucia was grateful to have met Arthur. She had gotten bored of winning her own game every time. Plus, Arthur was strong enough to carry the bigger rocks up from the railway tracks. He followed her around Birmingham. Between smashing bottles, throwing rocks at innocent passersby, and pinching sweets from shops for John, Arthur and Lucia became inseparable in their shared chaos.

As children, before Finn came into the world, she and the Shelby brothers would barrel through the door during their games of tag or sit at the table to wash water down their parched throats. They would smile mischievously at one another over the brims of their cups, making dares to see who would be the first to leave the table. It was always John.

Arthur would say, "Johnny, dad's hidden sweets in his desk drawers. Go see! It's there."

And rosy-faced John, being the youngest and most gullible, would glance at his father's desk with longing eyes, all the while Tommy and Lucia would hide giggles behind their pudgy fingers. Tentatively, John would scooch off the chair and as soon as he did an eruption of laughter would fill the room.

"You're a rotten egg! John's a rotten egg!" Arthur and Lucia would chant with their little voices and run out the door.

Poor John would sit on the ground and cry, cry, cry. He never liked being the rotten egg. His legs were too short so he couldn't keep up with the rest of them, and his arms were too short so he couldn't reach as high. Being a stinky, rotten egg was just too much pressure for one little boy with no sweets to have on his conscience. While Arthur and Lucia ran into the street, Tommy would stay back and pat his little brother on his head.

Always polite and quiet, Tommy Shelby was the pride of his mother's eyes. Mary Shelby would watch from the hall as Tommy would pick his little brother up and sit him back at the kitchen table. Tommy would drag a chair to the wall under the cabinets and he would climb onto it to reach the hidden tin of biscuits. Taking two, he'd replace the tin carefully over the collected dust. Both biscuits were for John. "One for now and one for when you're happy again," Tommy would tell him.

It was only natural for a mother to have favorites. Mary Shelby wouldn't admit it. John was a good boy, Ada was rebellious, Arthur tried, but Tommy was different. Even as a child, Tommy was a breath of summer air, so full of warmth. He was the quiet, passive observer that thought first and took action later. Tommy was so unlike his siblings, Mary thought. She could not imagine any woman his equal.

But Mary Shelby began to change her mind when her oldest son brought home the knobby kneed Sicilian girl. This was during the years when a fresh seventeen year old Luca prowled the streets before the turn of the century; the Changretta's were a terrifying force across Birmingham. There was no denying Lucia was a part of their organization despite not looking the part with her dirty shins, shabby clothes, and cheery grin.

"She's a wild thing if I've ever seen one," Polly remarked to her sister-in-law as they watched Lucia and Arthur competitively shoving each other on the streets. Too poor to buy a proper football, the children kicked around a flattened can instead from one side of the cobbled street to the other.

"I like her. She's a wee thing with kind eyes." Mary smiled. "She'll be good for Tommy."

A puff of cigarette smoke clung to the air when Polly chuckled. "She'd eat Tommy up - the sweet boy he is. She and Arthur would make a good match. Look at them."

"No." Mary shook her head, deep in thought. Lucia had challenged Arthur into hand-to-hand combat over whose goal the can had tumbled into. "They're too similar."

"Jesus, Mary! They're just children!"

"Aye, wains they may be, but you can tell their characters. When she's old enough, you read her tea leaves, Pol."

Mary Shelby took one last look out the kitchen window at Lucia. Arthur, much older and stronger, had pinned her down to the road, careful not to hurt her, but Lucia thrashed and fought back like an animal - refusing to give up though she was overpowered.

Mary could already tell life wouldn't be easy for Tommy. He was too good-hearted, too generous, too determined to be kind. Tommy needed a woman who could suffer with him through this bitter world and all its ugly faces.

On Resolving To Survive - 1903

It was four in the morning when Polly, wrapped in a shawl, hurried down the stairs. The entire house had rattled from the erratic pounding against the back door. "Just a minute!" She shouted, lighting the oil lamp on the kitchen table, then turning on her heel to unlatch the lock.

From the dimness of the streets, Polly recognized Luca Changretta, blood splattered across his face and pooling at his chest. He carried his little sister limp in his arms and rushed through the door before Polly could fully open it. Sweeping Lucia across the table, nearly sending the oil lamp flying to the ground, Luca stumbled back against the wall for support while Polly rushed to his sister's side.

With labored breath, he yanked his cap down and carded his fingers through his hair. "She has a stab wound under her right arm."

Several pairs of feet rumbled down the staircase followed by shushing and instructions for Arthur and Tommy to keep Ada and John upstairs while their mother came down. Mary made the sign of a cross at the sight and mumbled a prayer under her breath.

"Was it the Brummie Boys?" Mary asked. Polly had ripped Lucia's shirt with skilled fingers to get better access to the wound. "Scuttlers?"

"The High Rips," Luca replied. His eyes had darkened with worry and couldn't be torn from his sister's pale face. "From Liverpool."

"Those fuckers came all the way down here? From Liverpool?" The skepticism in Polly's voice was hardly disguised. She had always held Luca at an arm's reach - his reputation for cunning and violent hits had long preceded him.

Liverpool was a city with an abundance of wealth and disgraceful poverty. From this the seeds of the High Rip Gang were sowed. They were armed with belt buckles, knives, and a lust for violence. Their hits were random and mindless, without discrimination or prejudice. They would mug poor passersby, kick sailors to death on Royal Albert Docks, and now they had come down to Birmingham piss drunk and stabbed a young woman near death. What they would soon find out is that Changretta was attached to her name - and that meant Luca wasn't far behind.

"What'll you do?" Mary asked. She had folded her apron to support Lucia's neck, gently caressing the young girl's face, praying her eyes would flutter open and healing could begin.

Luca Changretta pushed off the wall and stood up straight, and the two Shelby women could see masterful brushstrokes of revenge formulate along the blank canvas of his face. For the first time that night, his eyes pulled away from his sister's body and, despite his tall stature, it felt as though he took up most of the room. They all knew what he had to do.

He wrung his cap between his hands, voiced his gratitude for their help, and said he would be back for his sister when those who were responsible for this heinous act were sleeping at the bottom of the Cut. While Luca would maintain he enacted justice with love in his heart, it took Lucia a very long time to understand that his revenge was a message: nobody had a right to his property without his permission. There was no doubting Luca's love for his sister, but the Changretta's had a business and a reputation to maintain.

The family was the business, and business always came first.

Lucia, weak from blood loss, regained consciousness in Arthur's bed three days later. Arthur had spent much of that time sleeping on a blanket on the floor, always keeping an ear out in case she woke up. But Lucia's eyes fluttered open to see Mary dozing in an uncomfortable seat beside the bed. Disoriented and sore, she attempted to pull herself up against the pillows but collapsed under the searing pain at her side. Lucia yelped in surprise, and Mary was quickly alert.

"You're alright," she soothed, stroking Lucia's matted hair. "You're safe."

As brave as she thought herself, Lucia was only twelve and couldn't stop her bottom lip from quivering. "Where's Luca?"

Mary clasped her hands, "He's gone to Liverpool. You've been asleep for three days now."

"My - my parents didn't come for me?"

"Ach, love," Mary's voice was soft and her touch was motherly, "your brother wanted to keep you safe so you could heal."

Lucia sunk further into the pillows, pulled the sheets up to her chin, and tried not to cry. She felt abandoned, forgotten, and confused. Vincente and Audrey Changretta always said that family was the most important - that family always came first. They said that only family would be able to tolerate and love her, and that nobody else could do it properly. But they weren't here now, Lucia thought. She tugged her hand out from under Mary's, ignoring the brief flash of hurt in her eyes, and looked away towards the wall. But just as soon as she had pulled away from Mary Shelby, Lucia realized her own mother would never have held her hand as gently nor sat by her bed as patiently.

Understanding Lucia's hesitancy to accept her motherly affection, Mary forced a smile and said she would send Arthur up for company while she made dinner. Lucia kept her eyes fixed on the chipped paint on the window sill, nodding absently in response.

Moments later she heard Arthur's thundering footsteps on the wooden stairs and he nearly tumbled into the room, all lanky armed. "You're awake! Back from the dead!"

Lucia couldn't help but forget her loneliness to mirror the grin on his freckled face. Arthur sat on the edge of the bed and beamed down at her.

"I won the pool! Those bastards in the Brummie Boys bet you wouldn't wake up."

"What were the odds?" She asked between her dry lips.

"Six to fifty."

Lucia managed a disdainful snort. Nobody believed she would survive and that made her want to live even more. "You'll be splitting those winnings with me, won't ya?"

Arthur gently bumped her chin with his fist. "Aye. That's what friends are for, Luc."

When Mary came up with a tray of food, she was relieved to see the color come back to Lucia's cheeks. Mary saw a part of herself in the young Sicilian girl who lay injured in the bed. Lucia was a survivor and a wild thing. She was a shotgun blast and a brick wall, and Mary hoped that the fierce determination would never fade from her eyes.

On Choosing Family - 1907

Lucia was sixteen when she stepped into the Shelby household for what might have been the very last time. It had been weeks since she had seen the Shelbys, but this visit would be her goodbye. The older she became, the more pride chipped away within herself at the Changretta name. It wasn't because of the fire fights or the racketeering or the extortion or the illegal gambling. It wasn't even because of all the murder and assault. It's because she could not become what they wanted her to become. You're too stubborn, you'll never be happy.

You're too loud. You're too quiet. Who will want to marry you like this?

You're too confident. You're too timid. Who will want to marry you like this?

You're too thin, eat more. You're too fat, eat less. Who will want to marry you like this?

The reason why Lucia stepped up the doorstep at 5 Watery Lane to say goodbye to the Shelby's was because her assigned purpose in life wasn't to join in on the fire fights and the racketeering and the illegal gambling. She was being shipped away to East Harlem to be a proper Sicilian wife to a proper Sicilian man. Her marriage to Giuseppe Morello would bind the Changretta-Morello alliance.

She had fought hard against the marriage, but Luca, having taken refuge in New York after the brutal murders of the High Rip gang members four years earlier, insisted she go forward with the union. "It's your duty to the family, sorellina," Luca had pressed over the phone. "If it wasn't for the family, you wouldn't be safe or have food on your plate. It's your responsibility to do this." Lucia fought even harder still, but her mother took matters into her own hands.

So Lucia had come to say her last goodbyes.

When the gentle knock sounded at the door Mary, seven months pregnant with Finn, leaned over the oven cooking supper while Tommy kept her company.

"It's Luc," Tommy announced from the kitchen table. He recognized her footsteps coming up to the door.

Mary, excited to greet Lucia after their weeks apart, bustled to unlatch the door but the cheer on her face quickly fell. Pulling the young girl into the house, Mary tilted her head down to catch Lucia's empty gaze and asked, "Ach, love, what's happened to your face?" The shock in his mother's question had Tommy up on his feet in seconds, protectively coming closer to Lucia.

"Noth - Nothing," Lucia's voice trembled, feeling cornered under their worried looks. She was trying to hide her blackened eye and split lip into her shoulder. "I can't stay for long."

Mary Shelby's chest tightened, mourning the precocious and wild thing Lucia used to be. The once bright-eyed young girl looked more like a frightened animal now. What a curse it was to be a woman. Mary only broke out of her lament when her son instructed her to get a chip of ice for Lucia's swollen lip.

Watching Mary waddle away as quickly as her pregnant body would allow, Lucia's shoulders slumped and her chest heaved with emotion. What a beautiful life I could have had with them, she despaired. Tommy touched her so gently and so kindly, inspecting the swell across her face. Mrs. Shelby's heart nearly broke at the sight of her wounds. "I can't stay for long," she said again in a weaker voice, brown eyes burning with impending tears.

Tommy guided her to the same table they sat at as children, and carefully dabbed her lip with the bit of ice his mother had carefully wrapped in a cloth.

"Who did this to you, love?" Mary stood behind her son and braced herself against the table. "Was it your da? Your mam?"

Lucia took in a long inhale, biting the inside of her bottom lip in an attempt to control the tears that threatened to stream down her face. She looked down with a grimace. "I'm going to America to Luca. And I don't think I'll be coming back. They have a husband waiting for me."

Tommy's hand paused and his blue eyes flickered up to meet hers. Their brief moment didn't go unnoticed by Mary Shelby.

"There's nothing to be done?" Tommy finally asked in a voice that faltered more than he expected.

Lucia shook her head dejectedly. "I tried and that's how this happened," she made a weak gesture toward her face. "My ma couldn't tolerate me complaining much longer, she…"

Mary rounded the table and pulled Lucia into the warm curve of her arms, using the hem of her apron to catch the tears before they hit the tabletop.

"She was so angry with me," Lucia willed herself to continue between the wracking sobs that caught at her throat after every few words. "She grabbed my hair and wouldn't stop." Her voice was half muffled in Mary's sleeves.

Tommy took hold of her shaking hands.

"She kept slamming my head into the wall. She said it was my duty to go and that I shouldn't be so arrogant to think otherwise." She breathed in deep. In and out, in and out.

Mary Shelby was holding her tight, but Lucia already missed the comfort of the embrace. She was lost in the times where she took the love for granted or rejected it altogether. But now, Lucia wanted to drown in those happier memories when Mary's love, Arthur's friendship, and the safety of the Shelby family felt eternal. The sands of time were quickly running out so she wanted to remember this feeling so she could place it in a happy part of her mind and admire it whenever she was at her loneliest.

Leaning down, Mary took Lucia's face firmly between her hands, looked into her eyes, and said, "You are so special to me, and I love you. Is this marriage what you want?"

Though her tear-filled eyes were on his mother's face, Lucia squeezed Tommy's hands in her lap. She shook her head no.

"We'll send you away to family." Mary decided. "Polly's mother Birdie will take care of you, and she'll keep you safe." She dropped her hands to her sides. "Tommy will handle things for you here. Yeah?"

Lucia nodded. She looked between the two Shelbys and decided that, come whatever, her heart belonged to them. Family couldn't be contained to who you're born to, it was who you've bound yourself to whether by blood, love, or the covenant.

Hours later, Lucia went deep into the countryside to stay hidden under the protection of Birdie Boswell, gypsy princess. Though the negotiations were less than ideal, Tommy and Polly ensured no hits would be made on Lucia if she came back to Birmingham. She had been properly disowned by her family. It was perhaps for the best because her intended, Giuseppe Morello, a handsome Sicilian 24 years her senior with a disfigured one-fingered right hand, was imprisoned for counterfeiting in 1909.

When Lucia did come back to Birmingham, Polly made sure to find her a decent flat within the protection of the Blinders, and Mary would often visit. Lucia and Mary Shelby would sit over tea for hours sometimes in silence, sometimes bustling around the small flat to make supper, but always taking comfort in one another's company.

"Thank you," Lucia said one day, "for loving me the way you love your children. I hadn't thought it was something I needed."

Mary smiled in response and swept her arm across the scarcely furnished flat. "It's a cruel world that allows women to suffer like this. But you have a strength inside of your heart. No matter how many times you fall, you'll rise."

On The Curse of Womanhood - 1908

Six weeks after Finn was born, Mary Shelby started to feel it. Whatever it was. At first, she thought she had been given a gift of divination - like Polly. But it felt more like a curse. Whether it was from childbirth, from breastfeeding, or from having five other children to raise, exhaustion soon manifested into something more debilitating. One frustration would slowly double then triple until it all bled together over time into one big ugly thing.

"Here," Mary shoved little Finn into Lucia's arm so he wouldn't be her concern anymore.

Carefully tucking the six week old in the pram, Lucia quickened her pace to catch up with Mary who had taken off down the streets toward the Cut. "Are you alright?"

Mary Shelby didn't answer. She was already lost in the gilded utopia of her mind - a place where her desires would be satiated, her wildest dreams fulfilled, and a place where she was in complete control, without anger, without responsibility, without devolution. The last few weeks, she couldn't look out a window without wanting to fall or a church steeple without wanting to hang.

"Leave the pram," she curtly instructed before walking down the steps to the churning reservoir beside Charlie's Yard. Lucia held Finn close against her chest. He was sound asleep, his little fingers curled into a fist. "Lucia." Mary Shelby paced back and forth beside the waters. "Lucia!"

"Yes?"

"I have to go now, but you have to take care of the boys."

Lucia's body became rigid at Mary's body language and the hopeful gaze thrown toward the raging waters. She proceeded cautiously. "What do you mean?"

Mary stepped toward her with determination and bypassed her own baby to press a kiss to Lucia's temple. "You won't understand now, but Tommy needs you. Don't give up on him. Please, for me."

"I - I," she stammered, "I don't understand."

Mary smiled sadly at her. "I know, my darling. But call me mother and promise you'll take care of our family."

"I'll take care of our family, ma."

Before Lucia could blink, Mary Shelby had walked up to the edge of the Cut and she had thrown herself in. Holding Finn was the only thing that kept Lucia from jumping in herself. All she could do was stifle a scream, hold the baby close to her skin, and run toward Charlie's Yard. She saw Curly first. He had a pitchfork in his hand and tossed hay over the stall to the strong racehorses.

"Where's Charlie?" She managed to ask between sobs.

Finn was still fast asleep in her arms when Charlie pulled Mary's body out from the water.

On Grieving Greta - 1912

"I heard about Greta." Lucia's apprehensive steps drew closer. "I'll sit with you a bit?"

Tommy didn't move, didn't answer or look back, but she could see the red under his eyes from crying. The silence was his answer. Scrounging in her coat pocket, Lucia pulled two cigarettes from the tin and held both in her mouth to catch a light before putting one between Tommy's fingers.

A chilling gust of wind flooded through the narrow canal, and the trees across from them danced and shivered against the force. Lucia huddled behind the tall collar of her coat, holding the warm smoke in her mouth.

"What's left without her, Luc?" His quiet voice faltered halfway through. It broke Lucia's heart. Tommy was always the strong one.

"It'll feel like nothing for a while," she admitted. "You loved her, Tommy. No one expects you to go back to normal."

Tommy Shelby couldn't possibly tell Lucia how deeply his grief ran inside him. It felt like his entire universe shattered into billions of pieces while simultaneously freezing at absolute zero and burning at the temperature of the sun. Everything turned into a gray-green haze. Time didn't exist in the second Greta took her last breath. And Tommy sat by her bedside begging her not to go. Now, he sat by the Cut with an untouched cigarette beginning to burn the insides of his fingers. He couldn't feel the pain of it. Lucia pinched the burning cigarette from between his fingers and dropped it down into the water.

They sat together for a while, in silence, staring out toward the cluster of trees which seemed to never fade away like they were both doomed to.

"It's getting dark, and my father will send out his best assassins if I'm not in my flat." She leaned over to press a comforting kiss on Tommy's cold cheek. "If you need a place to escape, I'll always have a spot to dry your coat at my hearth."

The warmth under her lips brought Tommy back to reality. He watched her walk down the canals and out of sight.

Two months later, in the dead of a rainy night, Lucia heard a light tap at the door of her flat. She didn't reach for the gun under her bed frame - it was peacetime between the Birmingham families. Tommy stood on the other side, soaking wet with tears and rain.

Without missing a beat, Lucia pulled his coat down and hung it up by the fire, just as she had promised. "Sit down," she found a dry towel and instructed. Tommy sunk into the closest chair and let her rub soothing circles through his damp hair.

They didn't speak much that night. While Tommy laid quiet on her bed, Lucia hung the rest of his damp clothes on the hearth and situated herself in the chair closest to him.

"Thank you." His words were obscured into the pillow.

She reached out to stroke his hair. "I'll stay close if you need me. I'll take care of you."

On Saying Farewell - 1914

On the fourth of August 1914, England declared war on Germany. At 27, 24, and 19, respectively, Arthur, Tommy, and John Shelby answered the call for king and country. Lucia snuck away from the watchful eyes of her father's men, and gently rapped on the back door. It was her last chance. The boys left in the morning.

From his place in the parlor, Tommy watched Lucia sneak a package of sweets into Finn's waiting hands. She rounded the kitchen table, unwrapping her shawl, and joined the somber silence which filled the little room. Much to his dismay, Lucia settled between Finn and Ada. Finn, already sticky with the toffee she had brought, flashed a toothy grin.

Tommy's eyes followed her the entire night and he couldn't say why. It kept his gaze from flickering to the clock on the mantle. Tommy didn't like how the hours disappeared and brought him closer and closer to the morning. He had started to count the seconds that passed by but time had a way of fading out of the corners of his eyes. So, he waited for Lucia to look towards him. He couldn't muster the courage to speak to her directly, but he hoped to be alone with her. He wanted her to hold him for a moment and give him reassurance that everything would be alright.

It was close to midnight when she pulled John into her arms. With the pads of her finger she made the sign of the cross three times over his heart and three times on his temple. She brought her forehead against his and whispered a blessing in Italian. It was just for him.

Next, she went to Arthur. They hugged each other tightly in front of the hearth and she did the same thing. Three crosses over his heart and three crosses on his temple. Arthur leaned in close and received her blessings. She translated it to English. It was just for him.

Tommy had waited all night to be the focus of her attention, and now the time had come. Their eyes met and she approached him. Tommy braced himself for her touch but, much to his dismay, Lucia extended her hand out instead. The smile on her lips reached her bright eyes. It was a friendly gesture. Though hurt, Tommy shook her hand.

With a last loving smile at the Shelby brothers, Lucia gathered her coat, wrapped her shawl, and stepped out into the cold night. There was a good reason to avoid Tommy Shelby. If Lucia looked him in the eye for longer than a second, she would surely drop her facade of strength and burst into tears. She reflected on the evening, walking down the cobblestone streets.

John was a friend, Arthur a brother, but Tommy was different.

"Lucia!"

She turned. The light shining through the open door fell across Tommy's face. He walked briskly towards her.

"I want a blessing."

Lucia tilted her head. "You don't need one. You're strong just as you are."

"I'd like one from you either way."

Consenting, Lucia tugged the glove from off her right hand and raised it up. Three crosses over his heart and three on his temple. Tommy leaned into her touch. They stood alone on the streets, huddled together in the warmth created around them. Their eyes met and her voice quietly followed.

"Dovrai fare a pezzi il mondo che ami. Sarai terribilmente solo ma insieme devi farcela." Lucia swallowed back the hard lump forming at the base of her throat. "You will have to shoot the world you love to pieces. You will be terribly alone but together you must see it through." It was just for him. With an even fainter timbre, she finished, "You come back to me, Tommy Shelby. I'll be here waiting for you."

He shifted closer to coil an arm around her waist, brushing a tendril of hair behind her ear. "And if I come back broken?"

"I'll take care of you."

Tommy didn't answer. He kept studying her face. Her eyes, her nose, her lips and her neck. He wanted to remember it all before he went away. He wanted it to be the very last thing he remembered if he died.

"Could I kiss you?"

She nodded.

Tommy Shelby kissed Lucia Changretta for the first time on the day he left for France. It was neither a passionate declaration of love nor sweet assurances for the unknown future. They stood alone in the dark of the night under the looming clouds of war.

On Having So Much to Say But Never Saying It - December 1918

When the war ended, she found him standing by the Cut. It wasn't far from Charlie's Yard. He was skinnier, hollow, and ashen - nothing at all like the ruddy, hopeful man he used to be. When he saw her, he continued to pull at his cigarette.

"You weren't with John and Arthur." The excited grin had long vanished from her face.

Tommy halfheartedly shrugged without turning to look at her. Too much had changed. Picking up the elusive traces of his civilian life was now a monumental task. Lucia placed a comforting hand on his back, and rested her cheek against his shoulder blade. The muscles in his body tensed upon contact and he instinctively leaned away from her touch.

She recoiled slightly at this reaction. "What have they done to you, my love?"

"I shot the world I love to pieces. Just like you said." His voice was cutting. The cigarette between his lips was dropped carelessly to the ground and crushed underfoot. "Suppose," he started, dark and like gravel. "Suppose those shovels don't stop knocking in me head. Suppose I threw meself into the Cut."

Panic rattled through Lucia's bones, and she desperately tried to compose herself to respond evenly. In little less than a whisper she answered, "my heart would break. There's no living for me without you, Tommy."

A sad smile was forced across his lips. "There's no point wasting your life living for me, Luc. There's nothing left." He was just a shell of the man he used to be.

"What if…" She stepped away from him, anxiously shifting her weight from one leg to the other. "What if I gave you parts of myself instead."

Fishing out his cigarette tin, Tommy shrugged. He didn't know what she meant. Lucia was nervous. It wasn't in her nature to be so direct, but she had thought about him every single day since he kissed her. Some nights Lucia imagined getting to hold him, to laugh with him, to sneak kisses behind corners and glance at him with eyes full of love. He had possessed a part of her for years now, and now she wanted him to be a part of her.

Rising on her toes, Lucia pressed a kiss to the curve of his jaw. When he didn't object, she kissed the corner of his lips. When he tilted his head to kiss her lips, she guided his arm around her body. Their kisses were slow, deliberate, and passionate. There was no fumbling for zippers and buttons and hooks. There was no rush to scratch the itch that won't go away anyways.

They walked down the streets of Birmingham together, sneaking into alleyways to share a smile or press their lips together. Lucia's flat was cold but neither one of them stopped to light the fire. They slipped under the covers, intertwining their arms and legs. It was comfort. It was warmth and safety.

"Lucia, are you sure?" Tommy breathlessly asked between damp kisses. He knew it was her first time.

"Yes," she pulled his shirt over his head, "I want it to be you, Tommy."

On Reading Tea Leaves - Present, January 1926

Tommy sat behind his desk in the office adjacent to the betting shop, and studied the back of his wife's head. She was standing at the window, staring out into the darkness with her arms firmly crossed across her chest. In a few minutes, there would be a family meeting to discuss the Changretta vendetta, the protection of Aberama Gold, and the future of the Peaky Blinders. It would also be the meeting where she would be introduced as Mrs. Shelby, and Lucia was mustering up her courage to face her new family.

"Thomas," Polly rapped on the door quickly then stepped inside, "we're all ready." She paused in her tracks. "What the fuck is she doing here?"

"She's family now," Tommy held up his left hand to show off his wedding ring.

"God help us," Polly sneered, advancing towards his desk. "We're in the middle of an all out war and you've decided to marry the enemy?"

"Yes," he rose from his seat and wheeled Lucia around so they stood shoulder to shoulder before Polly. "She's family," he repeated, resolute.

Polly Gray pursed her lips and studied the two of them. They used to be children and now they bound themselves to the law and to each other. There was no escape for them now but death. When she's old enough, Mary had said, you read her tea leaves, Pol. Gritting her teeth, Polly spooned a small amount of tea into a cup and let it steep in water. She held the cup out towards Lucia. "Drink."

Lucia began to object, "We're already married, what would this possibly prove?"

Polly glowered. "Your mother, rest her soul, knew you two would be together long before God Himself. Now, drink."

Accepting it with her left hand, as was the tradition taught to her by Birdie Boswell, and glancing briefly toward Tommy, Lucia sipped at the hot tea until the leaves have spread across the bottom of the cup. Inverting the cup over a saucer, careful to use her left hand, Polly stood still for a minute before rotating it three times. She turned the cup upright, positioned the handle toward due south, and begrudgingly inspected the clusters and shapes created by the leaves. Tommy and Lucia waited patiently.

"Well," Polly raised her head up after her study to gauge timing, intensity, and connection found in the leaves. She tilted the mouth of the cup towards them. There was a bold and pronounced line of dots resembling a chain. "Your souls have been bound to one another since the sun first set and the moon first rose." She gestured to the leaves spotting the rim. "You've been brought together at the right time, in the right place." Polly set the cup and saucer onto the desk. With arms as rigid as branches, she pulled Lucia against her body in what looked to be acceptance.

But in a whisper low enough that Tommy couldn't hear, Polly, helpful or unhelpful even she couldn't say, said into Lucia's ear, "there's much more suffering left to face."

AN: Woof, this is my longest chapter yet! I'm hoping to do a part 2 to fill in more of the gaps and explore their childhood more! Please let me know what you think and thank you for reading! Happy holidays!