Several uneventful weeks had passed since Evie had been called to Charlie Strong's boat yard. At first, she had tried to ask questions about the Shelby's, about Thomas Shelby specifically, but the more she heard, the more apparent it became that the question she really wanted to ask was one no one but the man himself could answer. Every resident of Birmingham had Thomas Shelby pegged as clever, as more intelligent than most and yet, Evie had seen with her own eyes that the man had shot a horse for no other reason than that he believed it to be cursed. The pieces didn't fit together but after listening some more to the way in which people spoke about the Peaky Blinders and their leader, she decided that she would only complicate her own life if she kept thinking about what had happened. Or rather why it had happened.

Evie's life was already complicated enough as she was settling into Birmingham and trying to prove to her new employer that despite her gender, she was able to do outstanding work. It didn't help that the Royal Board of Veterinary Surgeons still refused her the examination she would require to call herself a veterinary surgeon and a veterinarian in her own right at that. It wasn't just that people thought of her as less qualified, her title or rather lack thereof, proved them right. The situation was infuriating to Evie and there was no solution or hope on the horizon.

It was midday now and Evie was deep in thought at home on her day off when a loud knock pulled her back into this bleak reality. She opened the door and almost slammed it shut when she was greeted by a peaked cap. It was the same man that had brought her to the boatyard.

'What do you want?', she hissed.

'Mr. Shelby has sent me to get you.'

'Has he shot another horse? You can tell him there's nothing I can do for a dead horse', she just couldn't help herself. This was why she had stopped asking questions – she knew her mouth would get her in trouble sooner rather than later.

'No…uhm, we need to hurry!', the man was already turning towards the car. He obviously expected her to follow and why would he not? Now that she knew what the peaked cap contained and represented, Evie was acutely aware that she would not do herself any favors if she refused to go with him. And so, she locked her door and followed the man.

This time around she decided not even to ask where they were headed, instead she made sure to remember where they turned so that she would know how to get home. After only a few minutes they arrived in a deserted lane and parked in front of a pub. The sign read 'The Garrison'. Evie had not been to any pubs in Birmingham, she already dealt with enough men at work and had decided that she had no time or patience to deal with more of them (and drunk ones at that) in her spare time and so, these days, she avoided pubs at all costs.

'Unless there is a horse in there, I think this is where I head back home', Evie remarked when the man got out of the car. She realized that at this point she should probably have asked what his name was but then again, would she really want to know?

'Come on, we need to hurry!', the man just repeated and opened the door to the pub. Evie sighed but decided to follow him as he took his cap off. It was probably just because he was entering the building but still, she would not risk being assaulted in the street.

Shaking her head, Evie stepped into the pub and was greeted by an eerie silence despite the fact that there were people in it. All men and all in peaked caps as far as she could see. She followed the driver through the main area and into a small private room next to the bar.

'Ah, Doctor, much better timing…', Tommy's deep voice greeted her, but it sounded almost like he was slurring his words. He was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by several men and one woman. Evelyn raised her eyebrow at Tommy, ready to reply when her gaze dropped and she noticed his bare and bloodied chest.

'What the hell?'

'Yeah…right, that's where you come in, sweetheart.'

Evie looked at him shocked, but before she could protest, he continued, 'Heard you were in France. Horses and soldiers. Take care of this and I'll consider trusting you with my next horse, eh?'

'Tommy, Jeremiah can do this', the small middle-aged woman standing behind Tommy was glaring at Evie, squeezing Tommy's shoulder now in a way that made him wince. 'We don't need an outsider here.'

'Pol.'

It sounded like a warning and it clearly had the desired effect as people started leaving the room. The woman he'd referred to as Pol left last and gave Evelyn a stare so icy it immediately became clear that she must be related to Tommy. Their eyes might have been different colors, but the stare was surely capable of making hell freeze over.

'Just so we're clear, Mr. Shelby, if I treat your wound there, you will not shoot a horse – or any other animal - before I examine it, yes?', she looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. She knew she could treat him; she'd seen enough bullet wounds in France but she certainly wouldn't do it if it wasn't in her own best interest.

'I will consider it', he stared right back at her, entirely unfazed.

'Well, in that case, I hope you're ready...', Evelyn displayed her most sardonic grin and handed him a rag to bite on before she pulled out the bullet. She was quick, she'd done it more times than she cared to admit. Horse, human, horse, human, even dogs. Her hands quickly fell into a familiar rhythm as she cleaned and then stitched up the wound. She didn't even notice that the older woman had stepped back into the room at some point.

'So?', Evie asked as she tucked the last bit of bandage into place and Tommy winced again, his face now appreciably paler. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, and he gave Evie the distinct impression of a man on the verge of collapse although he'd seemed entirely comfortable with the physical pain that her attention had surely brought him.

'We'll see how it heals, eh?', he just said and stared at her with those icy eyes before bringing his whisky bottle back up to his lips, emptying it with one big gulp.

'Well, don't call me for anything other than to examine an animal. And I feel I must add, by that I mean one with four legs', Evie turned away before she could see his reaction. It probably wasn't wise to antagonize him, but it was too late to dwell on that now. Better to just leave quickly and hope that he would indeed consider it. The woman, Pol, didn't move out of her way and so Evie had to step around her to exit the room. Evie briefly wondered what her problem was but before she could give it further thought she ran into Curly.

'Ms. Evie!', Curly seemed more upset even than the last time she'd seen him. His face was flushed, and his hands wouldn't come to a stop.

'He'll be alright, Curly', Evelyn couldn't help but smile at him.

'And…and you'll let me help you if I'm over at the Kitchener's stables?', Curly finally asked after another nervous glance at her. He was violently twisting his hat in his hands now and looked even more miserable.

'Why wouldn't I? You're wonderful with the horses', did he think she would hold Thomas Shelby's rash decisions against him?

'Oh!', Curly sighed, relief flooding his face before he lifted his hat at her again and hurried off, disappearing into the pub. Evelyn shook her head but felt better than she had before she ran into him. Maybe some good had come out of the day after all, she decided.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Inside the pub Tommy bent over Danny Whizbang's lifeless body and fought hard to find the right words for his family and his men. He knew Danny had been living on borrowed time but then, weren't they all? All of them could have died in the mud in France and somehow, they'd made it back to Birmingham where their lives continued for better or for worse. That was true today more so than on other days. Danny was dead, but so was Kimber. Grace had betrayed him, and the betrayal stung. But her departure also marked the departure of Campbell. Now, that was a man he'd be happy to see dead one day.

As he considered all of this, Tommy watched his brothers drink themselves into a stupor and envied their ability to actually abandon all of their worries as they drank, and day turned into night. For him, not even the opium pipe helped drown out the noise in his head. Alcohol was a distraction at best but tonight, it wasn't even a distraction. Worse than a distraction actually. The more he drank, the more he thought about Grace and every now and then the white horse. The white horse with his gun lifted to its head. The white horse with flared nostrils as it exhaled one last time, just before the bullet hit. The white horse dead and bloodied, laying in the straw with the blonde woman bending over its disfigured head. He'd thrown himself headfirst into the events of the following days and weeks, but he knew it was so that he didn't have to think about the damn horse. And he'd been successful, hadn't he? But now he had Grace's loss to mourn and her betrayal to agonize over. Her betrayal and worst of all, his inability to see it coming.

As he stumbled down the streets, he vaguely remembered toasting with Polly. Toasting to the other women - the ones who would follow. The only comfort he could find in how he'd dealt with Grace was that she'd fooled Pol too. Not that it really helped, he still felt like an idiot. But below those thoughts he could feel the guilt growing now. The fucking horse was everywhere and as Tommy walked through Birmingham his feet carried him closer and closer to Evelyn Calman's street.

He'd looked into the veterinarian, of course. Unlike with Grace, it was easy to get information on her. School records, records of employment, even a war record of sorts from an organization that had treated animals during the long, hard years of war. Had it been too easy to get a hold of these things, he wondered as he knocked on her door. He'd tried to resist asking her earlier. About the horse that was. His gypsy instincts told him he'd done the right thing. Shooting the horse had been the only viable course of action to stop the curse and prevent the horse from suffering. It had been the responsible - the humane - thing to do, whatever that was supposed to mean.

But he was only half-gypsy and as much as he wanted to leave the horse in the past, it became clear to him that if he wanted closure on one thing tonight, it would have to be this. There was no closure to be had with Grace, he would tell himself she was in the past and that the past wasn't his concern, but he had a feeling that wasn't true for them. Him and Grace had seen each other, seen the parts that they hid from everyone else, so how could he leave her in the past even if the coin he'd flipped had told him to do just that?

Notes:

Initially, I was only posting this story on AO3 (archiveofourown dot org/works/30341643/chapters/74794968). I just posted chapter 30 over there so if you're feeling impatient, you can always check out the rest there but with the help of the massively talented wandertogondor, I will give each chapter a little bit of love and attention before posting here :)

This is my first ever piece of writing and I am massively grateful for wandertogondor for her help as well as all the love the story has already received on AO3! Thank you!