"Do you think Daddy will ever get a big picture of you on the wall? You know like the one we have of my Mummy?"

Blair was taken aback by Charlie's question that morning. They had been playing outside together since just after nine o'clock, kicking a football to each other for over an hour.

It was a Saturday, but Tommy had been working down in London the past two nights and wasn't due back home until later on that afternoon, leaving Blair and Charles to spend the first morning of the weekend together without him.

Blair had grown somewhat used to Charles asking questions like that out of the blue, but the emotional depth of them always seemed to stun her. It made her wonder what else was occupying his growing mind all the time to prompt him to ask such questions.

"I'm not sure, Charlie. Maybe one day."

The child sat down on the grass, unscrewing the lid on a flask filled with water and pouring himself a cup, Blair sitting down beside him, sighing in delight at the warmth of the sun on her skin.

"I think you should. I used to think Daddy was talking to Mummy sometimes, after she was gone. He had a picture in his office that he'd look at and talk to, I only saw when I had to get up for a drink in the night. I looked at the picture one day when he wasn't there, that's when I saw that it wasn't her, it was you."

Blair swallowed, pursing her lips as she stared out at the endless green beyond the gardens of the estate, the sky disappearing over the tops of hills in the distance.

She wondered if Charlie felt sadness about his father loving a woman that wasn't his mother, the things he told her making even her feel guilty for taking on a role that wasn't hers. Blair didn't want to replace Charles' mother, as much as the woman had replaced her once upon a time, a mother was a mother, and she was Charlie's, even if she wasn't still around.

Blair knew Charles told her things with innocence, but the weight of his stories played heavily on her mind. She wondered just how long Thomas would spend talking to a photograph of her after the death of his wife, and what it was he'd say. There was no way for Thomas to know whether Blair was dead or alive at the time, and she wondered whether he'd sit and think about what she was doing and where she was in the same way that she'd spared those thoughts on him.

"Do you and Daddy talk about your Mummy often, Charlie?" Blair asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, "We used to. He'd show me pictures of her and tell me stories to make sure I don't forget about her. We don't do that anymore, though."

"And how does that make you feel?"

Blair felt a sudden guilt, terrified at the thought of her arrival into their lives being the reason Thomas stopped talking to his son about his late mother.

Charlie tilted his head, holding his hand above his eyes to block the sun, "I don't mind. I remember everything he's told me and I see her picture on the wall by the stairs every day. I'm just glad that you're here, Blair, you remind me of her a lot."

As painful as it might've been to be compared to the woman Thomas had left her for, it was equally as heart-warming to hear that she was doing a good enough job at loving Charlie to hold even a small flame to his actual mother.

All Blair wanted to do was shower the child in love, give him everything that she would've given her own child if the world played a different hand. She knew Thomas wasn't the most natural father in the world, but she was trying her hardest to help the two of them bond properly. Seeing a father and a son have a loving relationship was something she'd dreamt about Jamie having with their child before the path changed, and now knowing just how precious a child was, Blair was determined to make sure Thomas didn't regret not relishing in every moment he had with his own.

"Are you thirsty?" Charlie said, making Blair chuckle quietly at how quickly he could go from talking about the deepest of topics to something so casual in an instant.

"A little."

"Let me pour you a glass of water like Daddy pours you wine."

Charlie grabbed another glass from the small basket of things they'd brought outside with them, setting it down on the grass and carefully pouring water from the flask, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth with concentration.

"Here you go," Charlie grinned, handing her the glass proudly after not spilling a single drop.

"Thank you, Mr Shelby," Blair mused, taking the glass from him with a caring smile.

"Your smile is so pretty, Blair."

Blair held her hand to her chest, her eyes widening with love and her lips pouting at the kindness of Charlie's words. It baffled her sometimes at how a man as seemingly cold as Thomas Shelby could create a son that was the embodiment of a ray of sunshine, though memories from her past and the way Tommy's laugh seemed to make even the darkest days glow bright reminded her that somewhere beneath the suits and the guns, a piece of Charlie's soul was there.

"You are so charming, aren't you. Come here."

Blair opened her arms and Charlie jumped into them, burying his head into Blair's neck as she lay down on the grass. Side by side, they looked up at the clouds together, Blair swallowing a lump that rose in her throat when she felt Charlie's small hand take hold of her own.

"I think that one looks like a horse, and that one looks like a love heart, see!" Charles said excitedly, pointing up at the clouds.

"I think it looks more like a dragon, Charles."

"Daddy!"

Charlie jumped to his feet and sprinted into his father's arms. Blair pushed herself up onto her elbows, looking over her shoulder at Thomas walking towards them with his blazer hanging over one shoulder, his cap shielding the sun from his eyes.

She smiled as she watched him hug Charlie, picking up the boy and kissing his cheeks as he walked over to Blair.

"Will you play football with me, Dad? Blair isn't very good."

Blair's jaw dropped as she let out a laugh, glaring playfully at Charlie who giggled as he ran off to the find ball that Blair had mis-kicked, ending up halfway across the garden.

Tommy sat down on the grass, laying back on his elbows beside Blair, turning his head to look at her with a gentle smile. She had always treasured his smiles, finding warmth in the way that it wasn't his lips that held the expression, but the way his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, sparkling with delight as he looked at her.

She had missed him painfully while he'd been away, despite it only being two days. Blair hated sleeping alone and seeing the empty chair at the dinner table, and most of all she despised trying to find comfort in attempting to fall asleep without his last kiss.

"You are terrible at football, he isn't wrong."

Tommy smirked at her, resting his weight on one arm as he touched her face, leaning in and kissing her lips. He would've happily stayed there and stared at her all day, admiring the way her skin seemed to glisten in the sun and her blonde hair flowed like waves in the gentle breeze. He had always thought she was perhaps the most beautiful when she was outside, her aura amplified by nature.

Really, though, Thomas thought she looked like a work of art in any setting.

"I missed you," He said, adjusting the peak of his cap, "I don't like being away from you, I can never sleep."

Blair kissed him again quickly, blushing at the way he looked at her when she pulled away. She thought she would've been used to his gaze by that point, but there was nothing in the world that had the same affect on her as he did, even if it was just a stolen glance.

"When are you away again?"

"Not for another three weeks I don't think, then I have to go to Glasgow for a few nights."

Blair never asked what Tommy was going on his business trips for. In reality, she knew that whatever he told her wouldn't have been the truth anyway, and she'd decided that living in ignorance really was bliss, though that didn't always stop her from worrying about him, knowing that there was always a chance he wouldn't come home.

"And then after that, you and I are going to Paris."

"What?" Blair said, her brows furrowed as she looked at Tommy.

"Come on Dad!"

Tommy caught the ball Charlie kicked just before it hit him in the face, making Blair's confused expression fall into light laughter.

"Christ, Charlie, you nearly took my bloody head off!" Tommy chuckled and stood up, kicking the ball to his son who happily chased after it.

"Tom, Paris?" Blair continued to press him, taking a sip of the water Charlie had poured for her.

Tommy looked down at her, his hands on his hips as he waited for Charles to kick the ball back to him.

"Yeah," he replied, nodding, "Paris."

Blair gazed up at him with a beaming smile, a million and one fantasies conjuring up in her mind by the second. She had never been out of England but had dreamt of visiting Paris ever since she first saw a photograph of the city, being fascinated by the architecture and the fashion, longing to walk along the rivers and experience tranquility in a new place.

"What about Charlie? Will he come with us?"

Tommy smirked, raising an eyebrow as the breeze blew up the hem of Blair's sundress, revealing for a split second the black lace underwear hiding beneath her clothes.

"No," he shook his head, "Charlie will definitely not be coming with us."