"It's so strange to be doing this. I see him talking to you all the time. But then he actually misses you." He paused just inside of his office. Lizzie was stood at the base of the steps looking up at the portrait of Grace he refused to take down. "Just wanted to say congrats. I've loved that man for years- longer than you knew him. Loved him through Greta and a war and after, too." He winced at the mention of Greta. She'd have been ashamed of the man he was- of the way he treated his own wife. "But even with me right there, he never did see me. And even Greta didn't have him like you did. Like you still do."

Tommy took in the resigned expression on Lizzie's face. Something sharp slid between his ribs. He didn't like that look. He'd seen men in France with that look. He'd seen women with that same look a week or two before he'd seen them at the whorehouse. Nothing good ever came from that look. And now he was seeing it on Lizzie.

"Can't divorce him. No solicitor here will take me. Can't afford the ones in London- not yet." The breath died in his lungs. He tried to imagine the house without Lizzie. Tried to imagine the breakfast table with just him and Charlie again. Tried to imagine not hearing Ruby laughing in the nursery. "But that's alright. The place he got me before the election will work just fine for me and my girl." Her girl. Had he ever made her think Ruby was more than just hers? "The house'll be all yours again. And he was never mine so no worries there, I guess."

She turned and started up the stairs.

"Lizzie." He pretended not to see the way her shoulders tensed and her hands curled into fists. She turned around easily, as if she hadn't just been talking to his dead wife. As if she hadn't just told a ghost that she was leaving him. "You alright?" Her eyes darted to the portrait for a second before coming back to him. A hint of guilt was in her eyes, but only for a moment. She nodded. It bothered him a bit- the lie. Felt like…

He didn't know what it felt like.

He watched her more. Lizzie. He watched and he listened. But she never mentioned leaving. Never said anything about moving back to the house he'd bought for her. Every morning she sat at the table for breakfast. She cut Ruby's food into smaller bits. She reminded Charlie to use his napkin. It was all the same as always. Nothing changed and it made him tense, the waiting.

But finally Tommy heard something. Not from Lizzie, though. No, instead he heard it from Charlie. His son had come bursting into his office, tears in his eyes. "Why's Ruby moving away? I don't want her to leave! She's my sister!" Tommy paused, hand hovering over the drawer that held his gun. He took a second to understand what was happening and what wasn't. Then he focused on what Charlie'd said.

"What?"

His son slowed down then, almost dragging his feet in crossing to Tommy's desk. "Ruby. She said- Well she told me that her and Lizzie are going away." Tommy forced himself to stay seated, not to go find Lizzie and demand answers. He nodded for Charlie to go on. "Ruby said that they were gonna stay at Lizzie's old house, just them. But I don't want Ruby to go. Or Lizzie."

Tommy took a deep breath. He let his son's words settle a bit. He didn't like it. He didn't like that she'd told Ruby they were leaving and she hadn't fucking told him- her fucking husband. He stood up and stepped around his desk. "Don't worry, Charlie. I'll talk to Ruby. She'll not be leaving. Lizzie either." His son gave a sigh of relief that felt like it should be too big for a lad his size. Said a lot, how upset Charlie was. He held out his hand to his boy. "C'mon, then. Let's go tell Ruby she's staying."

He felt Grace watching him as he climbed the stairs.

He didn't let himself look at her.

"It's better if I leave now."

Tommy didn't look at her, didn't move, barely fucking took a breath.

"If I wait, if I let her get more attached to you and this place… I don't want it to be harder on her than it has to be." Said a lot that, Lizzie wanting to go before Ruby got more attached to him. "I don't imagine you'll come out that way much. Want to get her used to it being just the two of us." As if her moving meant he'd never see her again. As if he'd let his kid grow up without him.

He kept his eyes on the ceiling. Watched the shadow from a tree dance across his vision. "Do I get a say?" Lizzie turned to him slowly. Her eyes were wary, her body tensed for a blow. Not physical- she knew him better than that, at least. But a sinking feeling filled his gut. She knew he'd not lay a hand on her. And she knew- knew in a way he'd never thought of – that he'd hurt her every other kind of way. Knew because she'd lived it. Knew because how many fucking times had he disappointed her, put her fucking last, not gotten to her quick enough. He could see the pain in her eyes as she'd leveled his gun at him at Epsom.

"Didn't think you'd want a say. Didn't think…you'd care."

Fucking hell. "Fucking hell, Lizzie." He ran his hand down his face. Dug his fists into his eyes. Tried to stop the guilt and the shame and the fucking ache building in his chest- fighting for space. "Of course I care. She's my kid. I'm not letting her leave. And you're- fuck Lizzie, you're-" He turned in time to catch the anger cross her face. "Fuck," he whispered. He turned back to the ceiling. Couldn't stand to look at her- couldn't stand to see how badly he'd made a mess of this.

"I won't leave her here." There was a fierceness to her voice that startled him. He'd not heard it before. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. "I'll not let you make her feel less than Charlie with no one to tell her she matters." He froze. Every part of him grew still. "I won't let you ignore her because she's got the wrong mother." He didn't know what the fuck to say to that. Because he'd blamed her, hadn't he? For Ruby's dark hair and smile and a million other things that weren't like what he'd imagined for if he and Grace had a girl.

Unbidden an image of his mother came to him. Her sad eyes watched as his father came home smelling of another woman's perfume. He'd watched, Tommy had, as his mother had pretended not to notice, pretended not to be hurt. And he'd sworn, he'd sworn, that no matter what he'd never be the reason his wife looked like that. And Lizzie'd been looking like that since before he proposed.

"I wouldn't do that to her."

"You already do."

He stopped looking for Grace.

She still came to him. And on bad days he'd still take a bit more laudanum than he should just to feel her close. But it wasn't as often as it'd been. He'd taken some of her pictures down. Not the big one over the stairs. Felt wrong to take that one down. Charlie hadn't noticed. Tommy hadn't known how to feel about that. Ada said it was because the big picture had stayed. Polly said it was because he'd been the only one still lost in missing her.

Lizzie hadn't said anything- she rarely did when it came to Grace.

Tommy made sure to visit the nursery more.

It was strange how often he'd pass by when Ruby was in there and not even look in. So now, he made sure Ruby knew he came to see her as well as Charlie. The first time he'd done more than peek his head in Ruby'd acted like he was a stranger. Proved Lizzie was right. Proved he was as shitty a father as his own had been. Not even four and more used to being ignored by her father than not. Three weeks in and she still looked surprised when he sat next to her instead of Charlie.

Three weeks and she still looked confused when he told her he loved her.

"Get dressed. Something nice."

Lizzie looked up from where she'd been reading in bed. She struggled with her words still, but that was why she read so much. Said it helped her remember the words when they were in a story. Laying the book to the side, Lizzie bit her lip. He could see the hesitation, the confusion, in her eyes. He tried not to let it bother him. That was getting harder as time went on. But finally she pulled back the covers and got to her feet. She stood beside the bed, fingers fidgeting at her sides. "Didn't know there was an event tonight."

He didn't let himself flinch. "There's not." The confusion in her eyes grew. He'd taken May out, just them. Even Jessie Eden had gotten one real night out with him. Lizzie couldn't say the same. "Trust me, eh? Get dressed. The blue dress you wore to Ada's party. Meet me downstairs in thirty minutes." He expected her to argue about the time. Ada would've. Polly, too, probably. But not Lizzie. No, she just nodded- slow and unsure. "Good. Thirty minutes." He left her standing by the bed, watching him a bit too closely.

She came down before he expected her. But he wasn't surprised. It was usually him making her wait, not the other way around. He took in the blue dress she was wearing. It fit her well. He hadn't noticed before. Not the way he was noticing now. She was lovely- graceful and proud. She stopped in front of him, fingers tapping- counting- against her thigh. His hand curled into a fist to keep from grabbing hers. "What's the plan, then?"

"Dinner. A dance or two. Maybe take a bit of a walk."

He swept her out the door before she could say anything.

It was awkward. Lizzie kept watching him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. Her expression was schooled into the polite mask she wore at functions, but her eyes gave away her wariness. It made it hard for him. For once pushing Lizzie out of his mind wasn't as easy as it usually was. For once he wanted her to speak to him. But it had been a long time, he realized, since she had actually spoken to him about anything not related to business or the children.

Tommy turned his attention to the room they were in. It was nice. Reds and creams and golds made the space feel rich but not overdone. It was set a bit off from the main part of the restaurant. It was the kind of place he wouldn't have been let into a few years ago. Now he could afford to come any night he wished. And that night he'd wanted it for the privacy. But now Tommy wondered if it wouldn't have been better to have a bit of distraction.

"So?" Tommy looked at Lizzie. Her finger tapped steadily against her wine glass. She was still counting. She was still in that place- the one where she was his whore and not his wife. He took a drink of his whiskey to wash away the bitter taste in his mouth. Her brow was arched in question. He pretended that he didn't know what she was asking. "What's this about, then? Why are we here?"

He thought he saw gold curls out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't turn to look. "Can I not take my wife out for a meal?" The tapping paused for a moment. He felt her judging his words, weighing them against their past. She decided she didn't believe him. "You want a divorce." He caught the way Lizzie tensed, saw the way her breathe caught. She stared at him for a long moment. "Figure if my wife wants to leave me I should at least figure out why first."

She lowered her gaze, choosing to stare at her plate instead of look at him. "Just thought… Why make things harder than they have to be." He tilted his head in question, though he didn't quite want to hear what she had to say. "You don't want me. And I'm sick of feeling unwanted in my own home. Least before we got married I didn't have to live with a ghost- or his dead wife." He just managed not to flinch. "So that why you brought me? To tell me you're divorcing me?"

"No." She looked up then, waiting for him to say more. But he didn't. The chills of Grace's fingers were running along his nape. The scent of her perfume was clouding his head. He just barely kept from flinching, from brushing her hand away. He just barely stopped himself from reaching to pull her closer. He focused on Lizzie- on the wary look that she had reserved for him alone. "It's a date, Lizzie. A night out, just the two of us. Figured you deserved a good time for once."

Her gaze shifted away from him as he spoke. Her brow furrowed in thought or confusion, he couldn't say which. He watched her finger tap against the tablecloth. Wondered if he asked would she know what he owed her or if the tapping was just habit. He didn't ask. He already knew the answer.

"I think, Tom, that maybe we should go back to Arrow House." Her bottom lip was tucked between her teeth and there was a tension in the way she held herself he hadn't seen for a long time. "I told you, didn't I? I told you I'd not let you play games with me anymore."

"Lizzie-"

"And what's this, but a cruel game? I'm not her. I fucking know. You've made it clear, alright? I'm just pathetic little Lizzie wishing for a man who'll never want her. Just Lizzie, the whore who fell for her john. The stupid, stupid girl who thought maybe Tommy Shelby could learn to care for her." He felt a burning in his chest- realized he'd been holding his breath. "But you're wrong to play this game. You're wrong to try and get my hopes up when there's nothing for it but pain at the end. So get up, pay the fucking cheque and stop pretending."

He watched her stand. He watched her step out of the private room. He watched as the boy who'd taken their coats helped Lizzie into hers- like she was a real lady. Because the only one who ever treated her like she wasn't anymore was her own husband. The waiter stepped into the room, silently asking if the evening was over. It was. Tommy stood, pulled his wallet out and threw money onto the table. Didn't bother to count it- didn't fucking matter, did it. Then he followed after his wife.

She turned away, pretended she didn't see, when he offered her his arm

"What'd you do, Thomas?"

He looked up to find his aunt glaring at him from his office door. It'd been a while since she'd come to his house unannounced. Even longer since she'd come willingly. And he'd no idea what she was on about at the moment. So he turned back to his work. "I'm a busy man, Pol. Done a lot lately." He didn't have to look to know she wasn't impressed.

"Lizzie's been off for days. And don't think I don't know she'd been going to her old place at night instead of coming here." Tommy paused in his writing. He remembered that first night, the night after he'd taken her out. He remembered the nanny bundling Ruby into the car and watching as she'd ridden off to meet Lizzie. He remembered waiting for them to come back that night and having the sun arrive before they did. "So again, I ask. What'd you do?"

He lifted his head to look at the woman standing before him. At some point she'd closed the door and marched up to stand in front of his desk. It was moments like this he remembered just where he'd gotten his stubbornness. "I took her on a date, Polly." His aunt raised a brow. "Yeah, big sin, that. Took my fucking wife for a night out."

Pol narrowed her eyes at the sarcasm. He watched as she thought over what he'd said. And he knew she was remembering all the times he'd wished for Grace. All the times he'd treated Lizzie like she was still just his secretary- or his whore. Knew she was thinking of all the ways he'd done Lizzie wrong. "Did you try to turn her out? Last date you took her to was Epsom, wasn't it?"

He didn't flinch, he didn't.

"No," he seethed. " I didn't turn her out. I took her for a real date, just the two of us. No business, no kids, just us." Polly stared him down waiting for more details. But he wouldn't be giving her any. This was more than she needed to know. His marriage wasn't for Pol to pick over and judge. It'd be fine. They'd be fine, him and Lizzie. "I'm busy, Pol. If you want to know about where Lizzie sleeps, you should talk to Lizzie."

"I'll say this once, Thomas, and it'll be the end of it." He took a breath, braced for a blow. "That girl has loved you through too much to be chased out of her house by a dead woman."

Anger flooded through him. It washed away the guilt and the worry and everything else he'd been feeling about the situation with Lizzie. And he was on his feet, hands braced against the desk as he leaned in close to the woman across from him. "Don't." The word was quiet and hard. "Don't fucking talk about my wife. She's more than every other woman combined," he seethed.

Pol didn't move.

"Yes. Lizzie is."

Then she was gone.

He went to Lizzie's place the next night. Used the key he'd never used before to get in. He followed the sound of Ruby's laughter to the kitchen. Lizzie had their girl on the table and was mixing something in a bowl. They both had flour on their noses and bright smiles. It hurt to know Ruby'd never smiled that way when he was around.

Before he'd decided whether to stay or go, Ruby turned and saw him. Her eyes went round as she tugged her mother's arm. "Mama, dad's here." Lizzie's head jerked up, eyes flying to where he stood in the door. Tommy watched as his wife frowned a bit, before turning to help Ruby get down from the table. He didn't miss the disappointed look in his daughter's eyes. "Can I go play, mama?" Lizzie nodded and Ruby was off, skirting around him before running through the house to what Tommy guessed was her room.

"What are you doing here, Tommy?"

He turned back to Lizzie, took in the way she nervously wiped flour from her hands and tried to smooth her hair. It was fine, her hair, but he didn't say anything. Instead he stepped further into the kitchen. He looked at the wallpaper and the floors, the cabinets and the clean dishes by the sink. "You could have brought someone to help with the chores."

"I didn't want to take any of your people."

He nodded slowly. "Just my daughter, then."

"Ruby's more mine than yours. And I won't let you keep her from me. Not in that house." He turned to look at Lizzie, really look at her. He'd never seen Lizzie as fragile- not often at any rate. But he saw it in that moment. Saw the way she held herself. His mother had held herself that way. He heard it in her voice- strained from fear but trying not to let it show. He wondered when he'd become the person that scared Lizzie, so. When she'd stopped looking at him with admiration and trust.

"How do I fix this, Liz?" Her face fell in confusion. And God, wasn't that just shit. He took in a shuddering breath. Let himself feel the ache of knowing just how far he'd fallen- just how much he'd fucked this up. "Lizzie, you have to tell me. I don't know, so you have to tell me what to do." But she was already shaking her head. Because he did know. He knew. And he still didn't think he could give it to her. Not that. "Liz…"

Lizzie stepped close to him. She rested her hand, hesitantly, on his arm. "You know, I used to think that if I could just get you to be kind to me, it'd be enough." He bit his tongue. "Then I realized, you can't. You can't be kind to me. You can't be soft with me. Because then I'd be a real wife to you and not just Ruby's mother. If you were to be kind, it'd mean you gave her up. And you won't." He shook his head. Because it wasn't a matter of won't . But Lizzie squeezed his arm a bit, let her nail bite him a tad. "You could. I know you, Tommy. You could."

She moved away, hand falling from him at the last moment.

And how did he get here? How did he get to the point where she was slipping away without even moving? But she had to understand. He had to make her understand. It wasn't won't, it was can't. Because if he could stop hurting at the mention of Grace's name, he would, wouldn't he? If he could stop seeing her laid in that coffin, face too pale and skin to cold, he would. And, fuck, if he could stop feeling so much fucking guilt every time he looked at Lizzie, every time he wondered why he couldn't just let her and the Italian be. No man would choose to live with that. So it couldn't be fucking won't.

"It's okay, Tommy," she whispered. "I've learned. After all these years and all this hurt, I've learned. And I'm ready." He shook his head. Held up a hand to stop whatever she would say next. But the words still came. "I'm ready to let it go- the love. So you don't have to pretend anymore. You don't have to try. I'll be here with Ruby. And you'll be there with Grace and Charlie. And we'll be alright. We'll, all of us, be alright."