A/N I've listened a lot to 'Broken Crown' from Mumford and sons, enjoy :)

Chapter 34) Post drunk regrets

.-.-.

Maria woke up with a one way ticket to the bathroom. In there, she releashed herself from the remains of alcohol in the most unflattering manner. For once, she was glad for the shortness of her hair, as she hunched over the toilet and with effort and force emptied her stomach.

She'd never felt this sick in her life. On all fours, she wondered if her family would be able to get a doctor in time, or if she was going to die right then and there.

Through the pool of blurred recollection, Maria was able to put some pictures from her memory frame back together. This was a hangover and although she was a rookie on the subject, she labeled it a severe one.

How on earth could anyone stand being in this state? Let alone, choose to do it over and over again?

Maria's fingers gripped around the porcelain of the toilet seat and hurled again. Nothing more than bile spattered down into the water.

'Alcohol is the devil's drink', Maria thought and swore to herself to never do this again.

"Are you dying?" April cautiously asked, leaning over her shoulder, intrigued by her older sister's moaning.

'I might be', Maria thought and wiped the last bit of lipstick from her mouth. "No, I'm not." She reassured her sibling. The young girl nodded and tottered off, only to return in a blink of an eye with a cup of water.

"The silent man said you needed to drink this, lots." April told her in a teacher-tone.

Reaching for the cup, Maria rubbed her blood shot eyes, the thumping headache getting the best of her.

"Are you having bad dreams again?" Maria muttered, keeping her voice as low as possible, because every sound seemed to drum down on her already aching head.

"I'm not, he woke me up making noise in the hallway. He told me to stay quiet and not tell mum I saw him at the house in the middle of the night. Will you get in trouble if I do?" April asked rapidly.

Maria didn't like her young sister's deviant grin, not for a bit. April's words slowly started to sink in and seep into the dark puddle of last night's blur.

"Hold on, was Tommy here last night?" She asked softly, this time not just to keep her headache to the minimal.

"Ah, yes that's his name!" April screeched, "Mum doesn't like him, not for a bit. She says he's a fibber. I told him too, he thought it was funny, said mum's a smart woman," April babbled on, unaware of the seriousness within her words, "he looked eerie though, face all red and eyes all wrong. Did he get you sick?"

'No, I have his sister to thank for that', Maria thought downing her cup and refilling it by the sink.

"So how angry will mum be if she finds out?" April pressed again, fidgeting with her fingers.

Maria glared at her sister, not impressed by her hints of blackmail: "tell mum and I will buzz off your hair."

April's forehead grew into frown; crossing her arms she puckered her lips: "you would not."

"I will, if you tell mum," Maria drew back, taking a strand of her short hair between her fingers, "you'll look just like me!"

That threat seemed to do the trick, at least for now. April weighed out her options and moped.

"Fine," she zipped her lips, "Tommy told me to tell you to take the morning off, 'cause you'd be sick. He needs you at the bakery at Bethram's road around three; can you buy us some custard tarts please?"

A new wave of nausea swept Maria off her feet and back over to the toilet.

Disgusted by her older sister's violent vomiting, April scrunched up her nose and fled from their tiny bathroom.

Left alone, Maria moaned and held her head between her hands, damn, why did she trust Ada, who'd reassured her that having a drink or two would loosen her up? In retrospect, if she'd kept it down to a few drinks she probably wouldn't feel like dying.

Everything that happened after her fourth or fifth drink was a blur. There had been loud, up beat music and she'd nearly sprained her ankle, dancing on Ada's preposterous high heels. She'd felt frisky and alive, in the moment and making merry. For a good few hours she hadn't been overthinking and worrying, the tightness around her throat loosened. For a good few hours, she was allowed to be young and carefree and she'd loved every minute of it.

Now she was paying the prize for her jovial night out.

She managed to run herself a bath. Sourly she scrubbed off the remains of makeup clinging to her face and ridded herself from the smell of alcohol that leaked from her pores.

Cautiously taking a few sips of water, she suddenly realised that there was a puzzle piece missing. How did she get home last night? Well, she knew how, because her sister had seen Tommy leave. But the booze had cut a hole in her memory. She couldn't remember much; and almost nothing from their walk back home.

After half an hour, Maria felt brave enough to rise from her bath; the water had turned lukewarm anyways. Leaving her nightgown cluttered on the floor, she wrapped herself in a towel. The fabric felt rough around her body and a shiver ran up her spine now that she was deprived of warmth.

Her mother was still fast asleep and a twinge of guilt made her halt at her mum's side.

'Those sleeping pills do work miracles,' Maria made no move to wake her mum. The poor state she was in might give something away and she was sick and tired of being in a constant battle with her mother.

Her bedroom stank; clearly she'd gotten sick during her sleep. Her pillowcase was ruined and with a scrunched up lip, she threw the thing into the trash. Her two sisters giggled, peeking around their door as she snarled at them to mind their own business.

Dropping the towel to the floor, Maria kicked aside Ada's heels and sank to her knees to pick up Ada's dress from underneath her bed. A good thing her mum hadn't seen it, with such a short length and showing cleavage. Ada loved those flapper dresses, but it had made her feel uncomfortable, available and cheap. She didn't want to be any of those things.

Around mid-afternoon, Maria dared to say she returned to the land of the sober. Her mother had woken up from her hibernation and made a late lunch. The smell of eggs and bacon was enough to send her back into the bathroom, hugging the toilet. When her mum asked her if she was alright she made up an excuse about a stomach flu outbreak.

She'd managed to choke down a piece of dry toast and empty a cup of earl grey. Her stomach tightened once she realised she'd be heading to a bakery in a few minutes.

Contemplating on murdering her little sisters or not for making such head splitting noise, she picked up her tiny purse from the floor along with her borrowed items that she'd hidden inside a large brown paper bag.

The walk to the bakery was excruciating, out of all days the sun had chosen to shine down upon the murky streets of Small Heath, it had to be today. Hiding her face underneath the rim of her bucket hat, she managed to stagger inside the shop.

A small bell rang cheerfully when she entered, causing her to moan. Those who were of the Shelby clan paused their conversation and looked over at her. Polly and John stiffly acknowledged her poor presence, but Arthur sniggered loudly, clenching down a hand roughly on her shoulder.

"Bit of a rough start love?" He joked. "Must have learned a valuable lesson last night."

"I shall never drink again," Maria promised sincerely and nauseous, "never." Bringing the paper bag to her chest as she feared she was going to be sick all over the bakery's floor.

The bell rang again and Tommy welcomed them with a questioning low grunt. His state was reflectively worse than Maria's. He looked as if a train had hit him and dragged him along for half a mile. Wearing the same suit as last night indicated he hadn't slept and hadn't bothered to change. A smell of old cigarette smoke, sweat and whiskey hung around him like a curtain and his right hand twitched slightly, hanging in the sling.

"Jesus Tom, did you sleep in a ditch?" Polly remarked unapprovingly.

"Oi Tom, you obviously had a busy night," Arthur joked, pointing at Tommy's collar. A smear of red lipstick stained the brim of his white neckband.

Tommy awkwardly reached for the thin fabric and noticed the red print on his fingertips.

Maria could feel her stomach violently turn and this time it had nothing to do with her hangover. The moment Arthur addressed Tommy's stained collar, Ada's lipstick seemed to be burning a hole inside her tiny purse.

While watching Tommy spot the inevitable detail of last nights, recollections of her blurred memory started to flare up. Her bedroom, her bed, his scent, his touch, the closeness, her lack of clothes. Her lips on his. Kissing him.

She kissed him. Last night she kissed him.

The brown paper bag slipped through her hands and dropped on the floor.

Cold hands seemed to close around her throat and she couldn't breathe properly. Nausea took her breath away and nearly swept her off her feet.

Unable to look at Tommy, Maria hunched forward barely able to keep herself from retching. Through her lashes, she noticed Arthur turning towards her.

"Everything alright lass?" He asked with a snigger, aware of her post drunken state.

"Just need some fresh air," she managed to whisper and quickly fled the scene.

In the alley behind the bakery, Maria ridded herself of the poor breakfast she'd managed to eat. Shaken, she sank to her knees, wiping her mouth and spitting bitterly on the floor. God she felt sick, her head was thumping madly and the shards of memories from last night twirled inside her mind in a constant motion.

How on earth was she going to face Tommy after this? With all the anger she could muster she threw Ada's lipstick across the alley and wished for a hole in the ground to swallow her whole.

Before she had any chance to figure out a way to face her employer, Tommy walked into the ally.

Completely aware of his approaching presence, she watched his expensive Oxfords' halt right in front of her.

She'd rather die than face him and so she ignored him for as long as she could, which wasn't fair because as long as she kept her gaze down he was unable to communicate with her.

It didn't take her more than a few seconds to postpone the inevitable, facing him.

He went down on his knees, sighed and slowly raised her chin.

Forced to make eye contact, she noticed how his red rimmed eyes were full of concern.
With his jaw slightly ajar, he appeared less like his normal, assured, no-nonsense self.

In an almost fragile way, he took off his trademark flat cap and lowered the piece of attire to the ground.

Leaning forward on his knees he scanned her face, observing ever hint of her dread.

Letting go of her chin he signed: Are you alright?

That questioned startled her even more, because she'd expected him to be angry or offended by her outrageous behaviour. Anything but this. Meeting those icy blue eyes, all calm and collected, looking straight into hers. She didn't deserve to be treated this way, with dignity and respect. It frightened her because he was close, again. And he'd just touched her, again.

Overwhelmed, she stiffly nodded her head: "I'm fine," she answered, bowing her head back towards his feet.

As a reflex, Tommy reached forwards to recapture her gaze. His eyes drilled into hers, catching every bit of her hesitance.

I meant about last night, he signed, being profoundly close.

Maria panicked, because she knew he knew. And the simple thought of realising anyone beside her knew she was capable of being so provocative scared her to death. The toxicity of alcohol must have deprived her from her morals and self-respect, throwing the sense right out of her mind.

That was what she was going to say if anyone ever found out about the night she wished to forget.

Because those brief moments, locked away from the rest of the world in her cramped, dark bedroom, marked her. The moment she'd leaned forward to press her lips upon his, made her into the vile creature her Uncle warned her family about. A harlot. A whore. A gypsy slut.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied through her teeth, unable to meet his gaze she crawled up, in desperate need of increasing her personal space.

A cold, low chuckle escaped the back of Tommy's throat and he shook his head. Abruptly, he stepped back on his feet, flaring his nostrils.

Fright fluttered inside Maria's chest as his hands formed into white-knuckled weapons. For a brief moment she feared that he was going to hit her and subconsciously she braced herself for whatever kind of fury was coming.

But when she finally managed to meet his eyes, Tommy had managed to morph his face into a state of complete indifference. The sudden hostility veiled behind a frown of callousness.

Go home, sleep off your hangover, I don't need you today.

With a scowl, Tommy stomped back towards the bakery, leaving her startled and shaking.

.-.-.

Tommy hadn't bothered to look at her twice the moment he walked out of the ally. She could die and rot between the filth, for all he cared. With her holier-than-thou stance and innocent doe-eyes. Bullshit, she was Satan in a Sunday hat, that's what she was.

And now that little bitch dared to act like nothing had happened last night, in her bedroom.

Fuck, his lips silently breathed. Fuck, why did she have to do that? She kissed him, she fucking kissed him. And he just let her, because he wanted her. Had it been his intention to get her so drunk? Fuck, he should have left the moment he jammed her keys into the lock and shoved her into her apartment. Why did he need to follow her inside, why had he gone into her bedroom? He'd taken her fucking clothes off; he'd reacted to all her flirtatious hints and allowed her to kiss him.

Why did he allow her to make him weak?

Because you are, his father's venomous words echoed from afar, you're weak, useless, nothing.

Tommy froze in front of Polly's bakery. Cursing himself he closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the wooden frame.

In all honesty, could he blame her for lying?

Last night, after he closed the apartment door behind him, he had walked straight back to the Shepherd. Inside, he immediately retreated to the men's room to inspect his face. With a few splashes of water, he'd rid himself of the last specks of lipstick from his lower lip and chin. Leaning heavily onto the sink, he'd thrown his head down and chuckled coldly at the miserable state he was in. Tommy Shelby; thrown completely out of balance because of a kiss. What a fucking joke.

The worst thing was, it wasn't about that small spark of physical interaction.

No, the undeniable knife that stabbed deep into his heart was the fact that she meant something to him. And for about a minute he thought that maybe, just maybe, he meant something to her too.

It was that deteriorated maybe, hope that someone might considered him worthy enough to be loved.

He'd wished that maybe she'd think he was good enough. Because he sure as hell didn't. Damaged, handicapped, mute, traumatized, he had an entire entourage of bad qualities. With a crippling tendency to destroy bits and piece of himself, because if he'd dare to face himself in the mirror he'd tell his reflection he hated every inch of him.

Tommy straightened his back and fought down the urge to punch holes in the wall. Life simply dealt him a poor set of cards and all he could do was shrug it off and make the best out of it. That was his life, downtrodden from the start, but too stubborn to fully break.

In a blink of an eye, he buried the maybe ten feet below the ground, stomped down on its grave and took a piss upon it. That door was closed from now on and he wouldn't allow himself to ever act upon it again.

Polly gave him a grand tour through their bakery, showing off the workplace. Tommy was introduced to Mr. Thaddeus Wilkins, the old man humbly thanked him for giving him his job and assured both Tommy as Polly he wouldn't let them down. The shop-part of the bakery actually looked believable. The window was full with pastries and had a variety of bread on display. Jeremiah's kid honestly seemed content to be a cashier and while Polly showed Tommy the shelves with fresh herbs and sugar, Scudboat's kid was sweeping the floor. It visually gave Polly pride to boss and fuss everyone around, meddling with the prizes and snapping at Arthur to keep his bloody fingers out of the batter.

The two young Blinders marked all the flour sacks containing cocaine and kept it stored inside a secret storage room at the garret. Mr. Thaddeus' poor back prevented him from walking upstairs and so couldn't possibly mix up the bags. The customers, who were aware of the little extra 'dough' they could buy, were handed sliced bread with little bags hidden in between the slices.

Scudboat's kid proudly showed their automatic bread-slicing machine, it was the only one in their district. Polly bragged about a huge order of cocaine and how she was planning to hide it inside a layer cake. If anyone were to raise questions, they could simply explain that they were making wedding cakes as well.

"Well Tom, what do ya think?" Arthur questioned, earning a fierce nudge in the ribs when Polly detected his moustache covered with batter.

The absence of his speaker left a bad taste in his mouth. Unable to express his approval made him feel incompetent and incomplete. He should congratulate his aunt, because the bakery certainly reached up to his high expectations.

Crushed, he gave his aunt a stiff thumbs up and removed himself from the bakery, in desperate need for some fresh air and a cigarette.

"Jesus, what got his knickers in a twist?" He overheard Arthur mutter annoyed right before he stepped onto the streets.

Striking a match, he lit a cigarette and inhaled the pungent smoke deeply. Fuck it, he was going to get laid. Last night, in a rush of drunken oblivion he'd booked the brunette prostitute. She'd been eager to serve one of the Shelby men, who changed their poor working conditions drastically. He'd followed her endless fishnet covered legs upstairs and indulged himself with another line of coke while she gave him a little striptease show. Her lips had turned into a cheeky 'o' as she dropped her lace bra at his feet. Holding her large teardrop bosom up with her hands she straddled down onto his lap and whispered to him softly all the things she could do for him.

It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and a shiver run up his spine. But it wasn't her heated promises of how good she was going to make him feel, that brought him back in a state of alertness. It was the way her breath tickled the sensitive area of his neck that made it occur to him that less than an hour ago Maria had been by his side.

The brunette had been unaware of his dilemma, with fine manicured nails she'd started to unbutton his trousers. Boldly, she slid her hand underneath the fabric of his underwear and Tommy threw his head up to the heavens. There must be a bastard up there mocking him, because there was a pretty little piece of ass working absolute magic with her hands and he simply couldn't enjoy it. The tips of his lips still seemed to burn.

He broke it off. Last night he could have had a more than enjoyable fuck, but he didn't. He'd pushed the brunette from his lap, silently put some money on the nightstand and booked a hotel room somewhere in town to drown himself in Whiskey.

Yesterday there had been a maybe. His mother once told him: never to hold onto something if you know it's no longer there. She'd meant his father and he'd flat out laughed at her for saying that.

But now, he'd take his mother's words to heart and headed for the Chinese brothel to see if Ai had a sister ready for a pity fuck.

.-.-.

A/N: Isn't it wonderful how it took me 33 chapter to merge a twinge of romance into the story and in less then a chapter swipe that all away? Yes, as a reader I would hate me too. But honestly, what fun is it if they would live happily ever after? This isn't the Disney section and there is an empire to be built.

It might be a nice thing to add, I've written the major part of this chapter with a hangover myself, it worked like a charm.

Cheers and please do share how this chapter makes you feel.

Xoxox Nukyster