Tommy saw them through the window, his sister Ada with the twins, and a lanky kid who he assumed to be Jeremiah's boy, the four of them waiting on the platform at New Street Station.

He was only half-listening to Mr. Taylor's youngest son, only half-invested in the conversation that started halfway along the trip from London to Birmingham, Tommy having recognized the business owner's son in the seat across from his own. Tommy still hummed and nodded at the proper intervals, satisfying his end of the conversation, but he was more focused on observing the kids, grateful that by the looks of it, he could still call Finn and Clara kids after all this time.

He'd already sent John and Arthur out of the car, told them he would be along back to the house after finishing up the business he'd started. Arthur didn't argue, eager as he was to be back to Watery Lane, still holding fast to a misplaced hope that being back in Birmingham would erase all that had happened the last four years. If only it were that simple, simple as picking things up where they left off. Tommy somehow knew it wouldn't be, not picking up the business or picking up the pair of babies they'd left behind.

Life just didn't work that way.

Tommy flicked his eyes back to the Taylor boy. "Your father's meeting you here?"

He was ready to speak with the man in charge of the operation, the one who'd be paying up at the end of the day, not the twenty-two-year-old who sat in front of him, green in life and business despite four long years in France.

The Taylor boy nodded and Tommy gestured for him to leave the carriage first as he took one last look at his family. He hadn't planned on doing business or putting off seeing Ada and Polly and the kids, but he was grateful for the excuse, grateful to avoid a scene at the station. He didn't know what the scene would be, had forced himself to not have any grand expectations for the type of welcome he'd receive, pushed that all right down with any lingering hopes and bits of wishful thinking because if Tommy had learned anything, it was that wishes and hopes were nothing aside from empty and wasteful. He'd focus first on what he knew he could succeed at, drumming up a bit of new business.

The family reunion, whatever it would be, could wait.

Tommy was a bit taken aback at being interrupted by Mr. Taylor mid-sentence and took a moment to process what the man said, his eyes following Mr. Taylor's nod down to the little girl beside him, Tommy seeing their audience a few seconds before the words registered properly.

"Hello, there," Tommy said.

Clara latched herself around him at the greeting, her face buried into his side and Tommy let out a surprised breath, the tension in his body draining a bit as he reached down to smooth the hair on Clara's head, long waves that spanned the length of her back.

Tommy could see his brothers waiting at the end of the platform, Arthur's hands raised up in acquiescence, the situation more familiar feeling than Tommy had been expecting, almost too natural, too easy.

Tommy pushed a section of hair behind Clara's ear and craned his neck to look into her face. "Our brothers are waiting on you."

Clara shook her head lightly against him, arms still wrapped tightly around his waist far as she could reach.

Tommy decided on avoiding a scene of a different variety, the one he imagined would come out of prying his sister off him and sending her back down to John and Arthur. He could continue his business with Clara there so long as he remained cognizant of his word choice. They had nearly settled things anyhow.

Tommy waved his brothers on and reached down to pick up the stubborn girl, settling her on his hip. He'd assumed his sister would be too big for it, assumed she'd not want a thing to do with the brother who left her for France but Clara clung to him just as she had the last time she saw him at the very same train station, arms latched tightly around his neck, her face buried into his jacket, seemingly content as she rested there.

"Apologies for the interruption, gentlemen," Tommy said as he turned back to the men.

"That's alright, Mr. Shelby. Miss Clara missed her brother is all, no harm in that," Mr. Taylor answered. "Those kids have been a good help to your aunt while you boys were away. Your sister is quite a favorite around the shop."

Clara turned to face Mr. Taylor and his son, her cheek still against Tommy's chest.

"Is that right, Clara?" Tommy asked. "You were helping Aunt Polly in the shop?"

Clara nodded.

"Have you gone and lost your voice since I've been gone?" Tommy asked. He had never thought of his sister as quiet, not with people she knew at least, though he supposed he no longer had the distinction of being someone she knew.

Clara shook her head.

"Go on, give Mr. Taylor a proper hello, then."

"Hello, Mr. Taylor," she mumbled.

"Hello, Miss Clara," he answered with a tip of his hat. "Well, Mr. Shelby, we'll be off. I'll have Andrew come around with the money next week."

Tommy nodded, shaking the hands of both men. Then the Taylors were on their way off the train platform, Clara's head already rested back against his chest, her hair shielding her face.

"Will you let me get a look at you, eh?" he asked.

Clara made a reluctant move to pull her head off her brother's chest and Tommy carried her over to a bench, setting her feet there though she kept her arms around him.

"C'mon, Clara," he prompted, fitting his finger under her chin

Clara pulled away from him, catching his hand and pushing it away as a little smile pulled across her lips.

Tommy let out something close to a chuckle and nearly let a smile pass his lips. "Ah, now there's my girl," he said. "Still ticklish, I see."

"I've grown out of being ticklish, Tommy," she said. "Finn says it's only babies who are ticklish."

"You've grown out of it, eh?" Tommy said. "Well, I suppose you are quite grown now, aren't you? A proper little lady."

Now that Tommy had a proper look at her, he saw the Clara in front of him wasn't quite the girl he remembered and that realization felt heavy and wearying in a way four years of war didn't accomplish. Four years had given his sister a bit more height, a few more teeth to fill out her smile, hair a shade of so darker, and it appeared at some point the girl had grown shy, a bit serious, a bit too adult-like for a child. Though he supposed his Clara had always been a bit serious for her age.

These differences, though small and maybe insignificant, reminded Tommy that he'd missed more than a growth spurt while he'd been away. He'd missed four years of memories. Four years of healing skinned knees and reading bedtime stories and soothing troubles. Four years of the twins learning and growing and changing. Four years he'd never get back.

"Tommy?" Clara prompted, grabbing his hand as she still stood in front of him on the bench.

Tommy's eyes snapped to hers.

"Are you awfully sad to be home?"

"No, Clara."

"You look sad," she answered.

"The only thing I'm sad about is that I've been away from my best girl for so long."

"When I was sad about you leaving, Aunt Polly brought me to the Museum to cheer me up."

"She did?"

Clara nodded. "We could go there today, maybe?" she said. "To cheer you up. It's very close."

"Would you like that?" he asked.

Clara nodded. "I can show you around since I've already been and I've already helped with cleaning and cooking so Aunt Polly can't be cross if we don't come straight home."

Tommy smirked. With the business with Mr. Taylor done, he had only one other thing planned before going back to Watery Lane, something which he could accomplish in no more than a five-minute diversion from the usual route home so they could walk along the canal side.

"Aunt Polly get cross with you often?" he asked.

"No, not very often," Clara answered. "She gets cross with Ada and Finn more than me."

"So, she won't mind me taking you someplace special, then?"

"She said that everything about today was supposed to be special since you boys were coming home… and I'm the one taking you someplace special, not the other way."

Tommy nodded. "Right."

"And I have something else for you, too, but you have to close your eyes first."

Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"Please, Tommy?"

He took a deep breath, feigning annoyance though he enjoyed the childish nature of the whole thing, enjoyed that his sister still enjoyed it, so he fit a hand over his eyes, waiting while Clara slipped the pocket watch into his hand.

Eyes still closed, Tommy clasped his hand over it, recognizing the item he'd left in her care from the moment the cool metal touched his skin.

"You can look now, Tommy," Clara said.

The gold of the watch shone brighter than Tommy remembered, clearly cared for in his absence, and as he flicked it open, he saw the time still matched that of the clock at the end of the train platform, 11:23.

"Uncle Charlie showed me how to take care of it," Clara whispered into the silence between them.

Tommy had been in Birmingham for only twenty-three minutes. He'd spent the first twelve of that ignoring a sickness in the pit of his stomach, planning to avoid the family until dinner, but he was now grateful for the change of plans, grateful he'd not put himself through a whole day of wondering what he was coming back to.

Tommy kissed his sister's head. "Has anyone ever told you you're very sweet?"

"Arthur's just said so," Clara said. "Can we still go to the Museum even though you're happy now?"

Tommy stowed the pocket watch and held a hand out to his sister. "You lead the way, eh?"