Rosie settled for a while after their confrontation. The two of them had mutually enjoyable nights in front of the fire, he came home from business - either from the streets or out of the shop depending on where his day had taken him and where she was working that day - to large portions of dinners followed by even larger slabs of cake.

Like any normal couple, they took drives on her days off - well, like any normal couple with a car - the two of them chatting back and forth, their bodies close in the front seat, his hand on her knee anytime he could let it be. It was nice, being outside, but able to touch one another the way they did behind closed doors. Though unlike most other couples with cars, their drives were out to the Lee camp during so she could spend time with Esme and the other women, whilst he found himself spending time with the horses, reacquainting himself with a life he didn't realise how many details of which he'd forgotten.

It was tense, around him. The men were hedging their bets about whether or not the wedding would go ahead, and all of them were aware this was only a cease-fire, that it could all go right back to how it had been if things didn't work out and no one was keen to get too friendly until the dotted line was signed - or, more accurately, until the bloods had been mingled. The women seemed to like the redhead though, they'd all gather when the car was spotted, hustle her off under their arms, pressing wine and cake into her hands before they'd even gotten her out of his sight, oohing and ahhing when she returned the favour with her own bakes.

But something in her, something unreachable, wasn't settled. He had figured it was Ada, that Rosie was still shaken by their altercation - but he noticed, when she headed out after dinner one Tuesday for a meeting with her Council of Women in the Civil Service, that she seemed less than thrilled at the prospect. And he noticed after that that she seem quite as keen in the mornings to rush off to the office the way she had done when she'd first started. And he noticed that she seemed relieved when Thursdays and Fridays arrived and she was able to stay in Watery Lane.

"How's work going?" he ventured to ask one evening when she walked into number six and he so happened to have positioned himself to wait for her by the door, so that they'd be alone.

She shrugged, taking her coat off and laying it across her arm, "It's alright. I'm not convinced I'm achieving much if I'm honest, not sure I'm actually doing much to help people like I wanted to. Where's Lily?"

"With Katie, she's been told to get back by six for her dinner," he told her, a warmth spreading his stomach that he got to exchange these casual discussions of the bab with her, exchanges over Ada and Finn with Pol when they'd been growing up had never been quite as domesticated, before he told her, "You don't have to do it at all you know."

She ran a tired seeming hand through her hair - long enough now that it hit her shoulders, like a triangle of curls around her angelic head, "I probably just had silly ideas about how quickly I'd get to do things that involve real responsibility…" she trailed off then, shaking her head, "I don't want to give it up. It's not that at all. I just - I wish I was making more of a difference or that I at least saw some more evidence to suggest that who I work for, the department in general, makes a difference."

"You make plenty of difference around here you know," he said, putting an arm around her, drawing her to him and pressing his lips to her head.

She sighed contentedly against him, nuzzled into him and then turned her face up, looking for a proper kiss, which he gave her.

She had seemed to be looking for more affection in recent times too, affection he was more than happy to give her. A hand on her waist whilst she was cooking or pulling her down on his lap to hold her after she came down from putting the baby to bed resulted in him being paid with the sort of smiles that would make a man's heart beat so strongly his body was likely to implode.

Though, he supposed, if she was needing that extra comfort from him, he shouldn't be feeling grateful of it - she was needing it because something wasn't sitting right within her, something that wasn't her self imposed, puffed up views of herself and her standards that could be easily brought to the surface and straightened out by the application of his hand on her arse.

And he supposed it wasn't making anything easier for her that Polly was still being short with her either.

His aunt had brought the kids home from church that Sunday to find him and Rosie snuggled on the sofa, the two of them full of adoration for one another, almost foolish with it as they gave one another drunken seeming smiles, the two of them locked in their bubble of loyalty. Rosie had only peeled herself off of him when she'd remembered about the broken dish and had decided to clear it up before one of the kids hurt themselves. She had squealed and giggled - quite the rarity - when he had unfolded himself from the sofa behind her so he could swat her backside again in remembrance of her plate throwing habits.

Pol had given the two of them a filthy look and hadn't spoken to either of them properly since.

He didn't care much, Polly being in one of her moods was nothing new to him - he thought he might have spent more of his life having her in a mood with him for something or other than not. But he cared that his thorny little rose was wilted by it, not that she was saying anything and not that anyone other than him was seeing her want of attention and affection.

His head was swimming with thoughts of Rosie - how much he loved her, how happy he wanted her to be, what he could do to make that happen, how he could get through to her - as he headed home to her after a Saturday morning spent in the yard with Lily, who had stayed behind to help Curly. He hadn't been keen, but she had begged him and his Uncle Charlie had promised to bring her back in one piece later that afternoon, so he'd acqueisted and was hoping for a few hours alone with the redhead.

In fact, his mind was so bloody occupied with thoughts of her that he almost smacked right into Moss.

"Mr Shelby," Moss greeted him, looking a little too smug for Tommy's liking.

He frowned at the copper, unsure of what he could want - and in the middle of a Saturday. Usually they met under cover of darkness, where they wouldn't be seen. And he wasn't alone, some other man in uniform was with him.

Moss seemed to puff up his chest and indicated the boy he had by the ear with his right hand.

"He been giving you trouble, Officer?" Tommy asked, a touch of sarcasm in his tone, just enough to let Moss know he wasn't to be trifled with but raising an eyebrow at his nephew, who was looking up at him from under the dark Shelby lashes Tommy's mother had passed down through John.

It might have been almost a welcome change to see George looking a little uncertain for once - but given the general air of indignation and righteousness George carried himself with the majority of the time, even when he was in the wrong, it was a damn sure sign that something had gone very, very awry for the boy.

Tommy flicked his eyes up and down the kid, managing to make it look demeaning but in reality checking for any signs of injury. As far as he could see there were none, so he repeated the action with the boys the other copper was holding. None there either. None visible anyway.

"Just dropped yours off home," Moss told him with a self satisfied smirk.

"Might have thought you were above the games of kids, Moss," Tommy replied evenly, pulling a cigarette out and sparking it up, offering one to Moss and the other man, as if they were simply three men who had happened to meet, who were having a completely civil and casual exchange.

"Might have thought we were too," Moss nodded, "Except these kids decided to try and bring the whole of Birmingham to a standstill."

"Seems a big job for little kids," Tommy snorted, sure that Moss was about to blow whatever they had been up to out of all reasonable proportion - but his heart stopped when Moss replied.

"Found them trespassing - on the railway line."

Tommy inhaled deeply, for the sheer sake of covering the panic he felt at the words, then exhaled a stream of smoke, turning a dark eye on his nephew, "The railway line, eh?"

"They've interrupted a cargo train and a passenger service with their antics."

"Well, can't speak for them," Tommy nodded at the second officer and the boys in his grasp, "But this one and Finn'll be dealt with."

He'd make fucking sure of it. Hadn't they been told? At Easter, after Campbell had ransacked the place and they'd had their bonfire - that idiot John had told them they could go walk the railway line on Easter Monday, what with it being a holiday. Sure, they'd had permission then, but Tommy had sent Scud to get them, had told them the permission was rescinded permanently. And they knew it fine well, because no permission had been sought this time.

He remembered walking by the park on his way home from the yard a few weekends ago. He'd noticed them all sitting around, talking with serious looks on their faces, but he'd been too distracted by his worries over Rosie to take the time to investigate it properly. They must have been planning it, the little shits. He was going to make that kid wish he'd never been born, teach him some fucking respect, put the fear of fucking God into him so that he'd never decide to make plans to go against what Tommy had already told him.

And he'd leave John to deal with George, then he'd make sure it had been dealt with, to his satisfaction and if he found it lacking he'd drag the other kid out the back too.

"No," Moss said, shaking his head and interrupting Tommy's inner ranting and raging.

Tommy frowned, he didn't like being told no - especially not by Moss.

"Afraid this isn't as simple as that, Tom. They've trespassed and disrupted at least two services, which'll have a knock on effect at other stations on the network - 'cross the whole country. They're all facing time in St Mary's," Moss told him.

Tommy thought he felt bile rise in his throat, so he stayed still and silent, forcing it down, staring at Moss, unblinking. Finn and George were going nowhere near St Mary's, he'd cut, maim and blind every policeman in town, get them out, send them anywhere he could to make sure that didn't happen.

"Either that or they can pay a fine - or their parents can pay a fine. I, ehh, told it all to the woman who answered at your place, she has the details," Moss said, smirking, "Fine can be paid at the station, otherwise, if it's not paid by the date on the form I gave to her, they'll be expected to show up for their stint at the boy's reformatory."

Tommy blew smoke in Moss' face, not letting any emotion cross his own, keeping his tone casual as he asked, "They not get a trial, no?"

"Lifted right from the line, Tom," Moss told him.

Tommy could have fucking blinded him on the spot - calling him Tom, like he was his pal. Somehow, despite the state of him, Moss managed to make his name sound patronising.

"They could have been on it for some other reason."

"They all confessed. They've all been down the station, been printed, had their records started. Thought you might be proud, family tradition an' all."

Tommy glared. One day, when he didn't need him as a fucking informant any longer, one day he would take Moss' tongue and his eyes and he'd get peace and fucking quiet from the fucker.

For now, he'd settle for murdering his little brother. Here he was, running around, trying to build a business and make money to bring Finn and the rest of his fucking family up in the world and his kid brother was repaying him by handing himself in to Campbell, to the fuckers Tommy was trying to protect him from.

"Well," he said, cleaning his throat and taking another drag on his cigarette, letting it hang from the side of his mouth as he continued, "I suppose I'll go find out from my cleaner what the fucking fine is. See if I feel like paying it or if the reform will be getting some Shelbys on their register for a few weeks, eh?" he narrowed his eyes and lent in, getting close to Moss' face to continue, "And Moss, on the subject of my fucking cleaner - keep Shelby family business within the Shelby family in future, eh? That redhead's from across town and all I need her to do is beat the carpets and scrub, I've no need to try and decipher that fucking over the cut accent trying to hear what she's got to say about Finn when he's not her charge."

He stalked by Moss and the other copper, not even looking at George, giving the impression of being unconcerned, when internally he was having fucking palpitations - when he wanted to sprint to number six, find out what the fuck had happened, get to the station, pay the fucking fine and then, ideally, find a fucking way to destroy whatever records they'd just created.

He opened the door quietly, still determined that, if Moss or the other copper was watching, they wouldn't see any signs of frustration in him, and shut it quietly too, leaning against it, tipping his head back and removing the cigarette from his mouth so he could breathe deeply, close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Rosie - Rosie, please?" Finn's desperate voice reached his ears from the kitchen.

"No!"

"He'll kill me, Rosie, he'll actually fucking kill me!"

"Better him than the bloody train!"

"Rosie!"

"Finn - don't ask me again!" Rosie snapped, "I've said no and that's it. I'll pay your bloody fine, don't get me wrong, I'm not having you sent to that reformatory and I don't see that Tommy would stand for that either - but I'm not keeping it from him. And I'd suggest you'd be far better telling him yourself though - he'll have more respect for you if you man up and take responsibility for what you did, it's better he hears it from you. But I swear to God, you don't tell him and he'll hear it from me, you understand?"

"Rosie - I'll - I'll," he heard Finn stutter and babble incoherently before his brother, with renewed vigour, finished, "I'll do the dishes for a month, honest. Just please don't tell him."

"I've half a mind to take a leaf from his book and smack you about with a wooden spoon for the way you keep bloody asking me and won't take the bloody telling I've given you," Rosie snapped, "If I didn't know he's already going to blister your arse for you, I would."

Finn let out some sort of moaning wail, like a ghost sent to Scrooge to tell him of what lay in store if he didn't change his ways, a half howl of pain and anguish and no decipherable words.

"Finn," Rosie sighed, "Fact is, you know what he's like and so you know as well as me that by the time he comes through that door he'll probably know about it already, so even if I wanted to keep it from him for you - which I don't - there wouldn't be much point. No one breathes in Small Heath without Tommy knowing about it. But I still suggest you own up yourself rather than waiting for him to be the one to bring it to you."

"But he'll kill me Rosie!" Finn said again.

"And you'll be alive once the killing is done, if a bit sore," Rosie replied calmly.

Tommy realised he was smiling. Not an ear to ear grin, by any means, but that for all he did fancy throttling the kid - and Moss - listening to Rosie presenting a united front with him when she wasn't aware he was there, had turned the corners of his mouth up a little.

He wiped it off his face, opened the door and then shut it loudly, silencing the babbling Finn had been doing in the kitchen in response to Rosie's last statement.

In the pregnant silence, he stalked into the kitchen to be greeted by the sight of both Rosie and Finn standing on the other side of the table, staring at him.

He raised an expectant eyebrow and Finn edged behind Rosie, who promptly did a quick little set of steps to position herself behind the boy, though her hands went to his shoulders, not quite about to hand him over.

"Practising a dance routine?" Tommy asked them.

Rosie squeezed Finn's shoulder a little and the boy moved his terrified wide eyes from meeting Tommy's to look up at the redhead - not that she was all that much taller than him. She raised an eyebrow to him and nodded in Tommy's direction.

It was a motherly mix of disapproval in what the kid had done, a desire for Finn to man up and take responsibility for it and yet a comfort being offered in the placement of her hands on his shoulders, steadying him and squeezing her encouragement into him.

"Finn's got something to tell you," she pushed after a few beats of silence, giving him a look that suggested she knew he already knew.

"That right?" Tommy replied, raising an eyebrow.

Finn looked like he was dying to say that that absolutely wasn't the case in the slightest, but to his credit the kid swallowed and made an attempt to look him in the eye, before rethinking it and mumbling to the floor, "We, ehh, went down the train," eating his words more than he was saying them.

"You might want to try speaking a bit more clearly there Finn, can't bloody understand a word you're saying," Tommy replied, the same false calm and civility in his tone as he had used to offer Moss the cigarette.

"We went down the train tracks," Finn repeated, a smidgeon louder.

"Did you ask if you could go down the train tracks?" Tommy asked, keeping his tone conversational.

Finn squeaked and shook his head.

"Out of interest, why?" he questioned, still casual.

Finn met his eye then with a wide, unblinking stare, knowing his goose was utterly cooked - as if it hadn't already been.

"I'll tell you why, shall I?" Tommy mused after no answer escaped his brother's mouth, hardening his voice to its usual growl as he answered himself, "Cause you know you're not allowed down there, don't you? Cause you've been before and I had you brought back, didn't I?"

Finn gave a tiny, almost imperceivable nod and he watched Rosie's grip on the kid's shoulders tighten a little as she held him against her.

"So you knew you were going where you weren't allowed, for a start. And why, Finn, do you think you're not fucking allowed down the train tracks?"

Finn continued to stare at him without answering, his eyes wet.

"I'll answer that too," Tommy growled, leaning forward, placing his hands wide on the kitchen table to he could get his face down to Finn's level, "You're not allowed down there so you don't get mauled by a fucking train, body spread across the tracks in bits, that how you fancy going? You got a fucking deathwish?"

His voice had been getting angrier and angrier as the idea of it washed through him and the fear of it, of picking Finn's body up after such an event had taken place, swept through him.

It was enough that Rosie gave a sharp, "Thomas."

He raised his eyes to glance at her and she shook her head, almost imperceptibly.

"I trust you'll have had the brains to figure out I'll fulfil that death wish for you anyway my boy," he growled, straightening back up, distancing himself from the kid's petrified face, "You didn't get mauled by a train, but what did happen, eh?"

Finn's mouth moved but no words came out and he cowered back a little, pushing himself against the redhead.

"The police picked then up off the line and brought them back here, that's what," Rosie filled in, her tone disapproving.

For whatever reason, that was the moment Finn's tears spilled over.

"Aye, after they got taken to the fucking station and had their records created," Tommy heard his voice start in its usual growl and end in a roar, out of his control as he felt his blood pound.

He needed those records destroyed. Needed to ensure Campbell had nothing. Needed to ensure he could keep the guns until the business with Kimber was done.

Finn let out a squeak and Rosie's hands went from the kid's shoulders to the tops of his arms, squeezing him against her, looking like she was ready to whip him behind her if need be.

He realised he had slammed his fist down on the kitchen table too, whilst he'd shouted and he lifted it, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinching it, closing his eyes and forcing his breathing to calm.

There was no sound and he could feel their attention on him as he brought his heart rate down a little, before he snapped his eyes open and glared at Finn.

"Is this because the last time everyone else caught it I took you out the back and then didn't whip you like I should have?"

Finn shook his head frantically, choked up as he stuttered out, "No, everyone was goin', Tommy, honest, it wasn't my idea!"

"You're a Shelby, you're meant to lead, not follow," was Tommy's harshly delivered reply, "As it is, I'll lead you right out the back and you'll eat standing up for a week by the time I'm through with you - but I'm too fucking furious with you to know I'd leave you in a state to eat at all right now," he stabbed his finger behind him in the direction of the stairs, "Get up to your fucking room and stay out of my sight until I come to get you, you understand?"

Finn nodded but seemed rooted to the spot, even though Rosie had relinquished her hold, seeming satisfied he wasn't going to maim the kid on the spot.

"Now!" Tommy roared, making the two of them jump, and spurring Finn into action, making him set off hurriedly across the kitchen towards the stairs.

Not so hurriedly Tommy didn't manage to get a kick at the boy's arse on his way by. His foot barely grazed the kid but Finn jumped about a foot in the air and yelped, his hands going to his backside.

He watched his brother scurry up the stairs, shaking his head in disgust before turning back to the redhead, lighting up a cigarette and saying, "Look at your, protecting him."

"Wasn't convinced you wouldn't kill him," Rosie sighed in reply with a shrug, "I don't condone what he did, but I wasn't going to leave him to you in your raw rage. Though I gather you already knew?"

"Met Moss on the way back, he was taking George along to John's."

She nodded, "Where's Lily?"

"Stayed with Uncle Charlie, he'll bring her back later. I was hoping between the shop being the earlier close on Saturday and Lily staying there that we might have got some time alone," he grunted, the cigarette waggling from the side of his mouth as he spoke.

She smiled, crossed to him and plucked it from his mouth so she could kiss him, before replacing it and saying, "Well I kept you and Lily back some lunch, sit down and eat, eh?"

His lips quirked up. Adding, 'eh' onto the end of her sentences was something he reckoned she had picked up from him.

He nodded, took his coat off and put it over the back of a seat before sitting in the vacant one next to it, "Don't know what I'm going to do with him - scared me shitless to think of him wandering down that line."

"I know," she replied, frowning as she cut into a loaf of bread and began to butter it for him, "I could have wrung his neck myself."

"I told Moss you were my cleaner by the way, when he said he'd explained about Finn to you," he told her, "Just in case it was to get back to Campbell that you were here. I know you know most of the women around here but, generally speaking, everyone 'round here is one of ours."

"You mean everyone 'round here knows snitches end up in ditches," she smirked over at him, "Or blind."

He shrugged, "Fear keeps people in line."

She came over and stood behind him, placing a bowl of soup down with one hand and a plate of bread and butter with the other.

He laid his head back against her, plucked his cigarette from his mouth and exhaled a long stream of smoke as her hands went to his shoulders, kneading them firmly enough he felt it through his waistcoat.

"I don't fear you, Thomas Shelby," she told him.

"No?" he raised an eyebrow.

She shook her head, "No. I love you. And I respect you. And I know you can set my arse on fire with that right hand of yours, but I don't fear it, either. It's hard to name what that makes me feel. You make me feel safe, actually, and stable and like I know where I stand with you."

He snorted, "And most people call me unreadable."

"I suppose they don't know you."

"But you know me."

"I know you."

"And I know you."

She nodded. He raised his hand to take one of hers, squeezed it and kissed the back of it, before picking up the bread and dunking it into the soup.