just a quick note to say thank you for all the love on this story so far!

It had almost been a week since the races and Florence had barely spent an evening away from Tommy. They would spend their days working as they always did, until night fell and they wound up in each other's beds, depending on whose house was emptiest.

And yet, Florence still hadn't found what felt like the right moment to tell Tommy about the baby. She knew it was only early days, she wasn't even eight weeks pregnant, but she knew that they would at least need time to prepare themselves for parenthood.

She sat on the edge of Tommy's bed, watching him get ready for an evening at the Garrison. He had been working down at Charlie's yard so he was sweaty and covered in dirt, meaning he had been in no state to go for drinks, even at his local pub. As she watched him buttoning up his shirt she knew that she had to tell him eventually, she knew that it needed to happen, especially while he was sober.

"Tommy," She muttered, toying with the hem of her dress, "I need to talk to you about something."

"What is it?" He replied, looking in the mirror with his back to her as he adjusted his collar.

"I need you to look at me," She told him softly, doing her best not to let her nerves get the better of her.

"Floss, I don't really have time for this," Tommy turned around to face her, wearing grey trousers and a shirt which he had just finished buttoning up.

"Tommy, I'm pregnant," She let the words escape her mouth before she could even contemplate a way to build up to telling him.

"Are you sure?" Tommy asked.

"I've been checked," Florence told him, unsure of how to read his blank expression, "I'm nearly two months pregnant."

"Is it mine?" Tommy continued and to Florence it felt like an insult.

"Are you serious?" Florence scoffed from where she sat on the bed, "Of course it's yours, there's not been anyone else, except you."

"A baby." Tommy sighed, leaning against the chest of drawers behind him.

"Yes, a baby," Florence smiled, "A baby that's part of you and part of me."

"I won't marry you, Florence." Tommy told the girl with little emotion in his expression, his words like a dagger to the heart.

"What do you mean?" Florence muttered in disbelief, "You know how people treated my mother when she was pregnant with me, and then when I was a child people would spit at us in the streets, your family are the only reason it wasn't worse."

"I can't marry you, but I'm sure that someone else would." Tommy answered, watching as Florence's face dropped in fear.

"Why can't you marry me?" Florence asked, fighting the lump that was building in her throat, "Is it because I'm a bastard child, and it might tarnish the little empire that you're trying to build?"

"None of that is true." Tommy replied blankly.

"Then give me one good fucking reason why you can't marry me," Florence exclaimed, "You know how I felt growing up with no father, why would you that to your own child, Thomas?"

"I'm not going to put you and the child at risk," Tommy answered, even though he himself knew it was a pathetic justification, "If you're publicly tied to me then you're at risk, anyone who wants to hurt me would just use you or the baby because they know that it would hurt me a whole lot more."

"So you're doing this out of the goodness of your own heart?" Florence asked, standing up from the bed, "Because Tommy Shelby is a good man with a dangerous reputation, that's the biggest load of bullshit I've heard."

"But it's the truth," Tommy told her, "I can't put you in that kind of danger."

"What do you suppose I do?" Florence remarked, feeling her eyes begin to gloss over.

An idea ran through Tommy's mind, it wasn't an idea that he liked, but at that moment it felt like the only option, "You'll marry one of the Harrington brothers."

"Will I now?" Florence laughed humorlessly, hoping that the man she loved was joking.

"You will." Tommy answered, doing his best to stifle the emotions that were urging to escape.

"And how do you suppose I do that? I'm not the Virgin Mary, I'm hardly going to convince a man that God blessed me with this pregnancy, Thomas." Florence exclaimed as the man who stood before her, the man she loved, turned into a man she struggled to recognise.

"Well, once you've chosen which brother you'd prefer to marry, do what needs to be done to convince the man that the baby is his, they both seem pretty keen on you, I would put money on George calling off his engagement for you." Tommy answered, and he knew that either of the brothers would marry Florence in a heartbeat if it meant keeping her safe, they didn't have the list of enemies that Tommy did.

"You're telling me to sleep with one of the Harrington brothers to convince him that the baby growing inside of me, your child, is theirs," Florence answered, more than aware of what he was implying, "And that doesn't anger you?"

"Should it?" Tommy answered, thinking that by driving a wedge between them both he was protecting the girl, but in reality he was just breaking her heart.

"Give me one good reason why I can't marry you." Florence replied, not caring about the tears that escaped her eyes.

"I can't give you the kind of life they can, you'll be safe and you'll be secure." Tommy insisted, even though they both knew it was a poor pathetic excuse, Florence knew that once Tommy's mind was made up there was no changing it, he had been stubborn like that since childhood.

"And when the baby's born with your piercing blue eyes?" Florence remarked, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"We better hope the child inherits yours." Tommy answered emotionlessly.

"Why are you doing this?" Florence whispered as she stepped closer to the man.

"Because."

"Because what?" Florence exclaimed in rage, feeling an innate need to protect her unborn child, "You might be Tommy Shelby but that does not mean you get to throw the word 'because' back at me and expect me to sit there and fucking take it."

"Because I love you!" Tommy shouted, slamming his hand against the drawers behind him, the words running through Florence's heart like a sharp blade, "That's what you want to hear, isn't it?"

"This is what it takes for you to tell me that?" Florence muttered in disbelief, hating that he'd use the words she had waited an eternity to hear, just for him to use them to break her heart.

"You'll be better off without me," Tommy told her.

"I'm starting to think you might be right," Florence whispered, "Do you seriously want me to exploit my best friend's feelings?"

"If that's what it takes," Tommy nodded.

Tommy watched as Florence walked away from her, resting her hand on the closed door, he ached to ask her to stay, but something continued to hold him back, "Florence."

"What?"

"It's for the best." Tommy answered.

"Don't make me hate you Thomas, loving you is painful enough." Florence replied, opening the door and making her way out into the hallway, doing her best to remain strong as she walked away from the man she loved and cared for so dearly. She was grateful that no one else was in the normally busy Shelby home as she made her way downstairs. She found herself hoping that Tommy would run after her, claiming that it was all some awful mistake, but with every step that became less and less likely.

She hated herself for even contemplating that idea that Tommy had proposed, and even though she knew that she didn't have another option, she wasn't sure that she could fabricate such an elaborate lie.

But she didn't believe that she was strong enough to do what her mother did, raising a child alone. She couldn't go through that again, she also didn't think that she could put an innocent child through that either.

It was almost as if some divine power carried her to the Harringtons' manor, she stepped onto the last running bus of the night without a thought. She didn't know what would happen when she arrived, or who would even be there. She hadn't even planned what she would say when she arrived, how could she explain turning up unannounced?

As she walked up the unnecessarily long driveway it dawned on her just how much had changed since she told Tommy about the baby, and none of it was what she could call good change either. She had lost the man she loved, she was carrying his child, and she didn't know who she could tell.

Tommy's words played on her mind, he had told her to choose a Harrington brother, but there was no choice to be made. That unborn baby had already wrecked whatever relationship she had with Tommy, she wouldn't let it jeopardise George and Diana's marriage before it had even begun. Which left Elijah.

She didn't have a clue how Elijah felt about her, there had always been some sort of flirtatious energy lingering between them both, but Florence always put that down to Elijah's charming personality. The man had a heart of gold, and it riddled Florence with so much guilt as she thought of how she would have to seduce him for the sake of her unborn child. She found herself stopping several times on the walk towards the house, contemplating whether she could actually go through with it, and with every step she knew that she didn't have a choice, or at least that was how she felt.

But Tommy was right, she would be better off married to a Harrington than alone. He felt as though he couldn't marry her without putting her at risk, and that topped any fear of commitment he had. If it weren't for the enemies that haunted him, he would've married her in a heartbeat. He just didn't want the Lee family sending her a bullet with her name scratched into it.

She finally reached the front door, the doorman was nowhere to be seen, so she simply knocked on the door, hoping someone might answer.

Some moments passed and the large door opened and there stood Elijah, the supposed solution to all of Florence's problems. He looked more casual than she had seen him in a long time. His white shirt was tucked into his trousers as usual, but he wasn't wearing a blazer or a tie and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone.

"Hello." Florence smiled, unsure of what else to say.

"Hi," Elijah smirked, "What brings you here?"

"I just wanted to check in on the winner of the Cheltenham Cup," Florence answered, unsure of what else she could say in that moment.

"So it's nothing to do with me, then?" Elijah pursed his lips, letting his eyes linger on her longer than he probably should.

"Your company is simply an added bonus," Florence returned as she entered the house, Elijah closing the door behind her, "Your house is oddly quiet, where is everyone?"

"Diana's parents invited George and our parents to the opera, I could've gone, but I wasn't in the mood," Elijah explained as he took her coat from her, discarding it on a chair before leading the girl into the drawing room where a fire was already lit.

"And your staff?" Florence questioned, noticing the lack of maids and servants around the house.

"I gave them the night off," Elijah answered.

"So what would you've been doing if I hadn't just turned up?" Florence asked, looking at the open book on the sofa and the whiskey bottle on the side table.

"Reading that book and drinking this whiskey," He told her, picking up the bottle, "You want a glass?"

"Not drinking Harrington's Ale?" Florence answered as he poured the whiskey into a glass.

"It's not a beer kind of night," Elijah replied, handing her the glass before they sat beside each other on the sofa.

"So what's the difference between a whiskey night and a beer night?" Florence asked, grateful for how natural it felt being beside Elijah as Tommy's instructions played on her mind.

"Too much beer doesn't make me say things that I might regret, whereas whiskey does," Elijah sighed, leaning against the back of the sofa but turning to face Florence, "Which wouldn't have been a problem, but then you showed up."

"What does my being here have to do with saying things you regret?" Florence asked, gently sipping her whiskey.

"I'm just really glad you showed up here," Elijah whispered, resting his hand beside Florence's, "I had been thinking about you since the races and the whiskey wasn't helping."

"You've been thinking about me?" Florence smiled nervously, realising that Elijah was more intoxicated than he had let on, "That sounds ominous."

"We were a good team, don't you think?" He muttered, brushing his finger back and forth over hers. Florence stared down at their hands, realising that she couldn't go through with what Tommy had suggested, she cared far too much about the man sat beside her to use him like that.

"We were," Florence nodded with a smile, quickly finishing her whiskey.

"And what if I said, I think we'd be a good team beyond the races?" Elijah asked and Florence could tell that he was nervous.

"I'd ask what your parents would think of that." Florence replied, feeling the whiskey affecting her more than usual.

"If I cared what my parents thought I wouldn't be sitting here with you like this," Elijah told her.

"George has been rubbing off on you hasn't he?" Florence sighed, feeling hopelessly alone as the secret of her pregnancy loomed over her.

"Maybe he has," Elijah continued, his eyes lingering on the woman beside him, "And maybe that's not a bad thing."

"I need to tell you something," Florence muttered, fearing what was set to be another uncomfortable conversation, "And I need you to promise me that this stays between us."

She was aware that her logic was flawed, as it wouldn't be long until she had a bump for everyone to see. Then in around seven months a baby would appear. But as of that moment she just needed to tell someone, hoping that she wouldn't be pushed away again in the way Tommy had done just hours before.

"Is everything alright?" Elijah asked innocently, not quite aware of the weight of the question.

"I don't know," Florence muttered, pulling her hand away from his, "Everything's been going from bad to worse."

"Floss, what's wrong?" Elijah muttered, worried by the sudden distance she had put between them.

She knew she had to tell him, and she knew that once she had it would feel like a relief, but then she would just be waiting for his response, wondering if the Harrington in him would prevail.

"I'm pregnant, Elijah," Florence whispered, hoping that he might not have heard her, even though the look on his face said otherwise, "And the baby's father wants nothing to do with it."

"Are you okay?" It was a simple question, but they were words that the girl hadn't heard in a long time, words that she so desperately needed to hear.

"I don't know if I've ever been okay," Florence whispered, "I'm a fatherless seamstress, who only does that because it's what her mother does, I don't have family beyond just me and my mother and I've let myself be stupid enough to become involved with a man who would abandon his own child."

"Do you want me to speak to him, whoever he is?" Elijah asked, pouring them both another glass of whiskey and handing one to Florence.

"I appreciate the sentiment," Florence smiled as she took a sip of her drink, "But that won't change anything, he's stubborn and he believes that this is for the best."

"Is he a married man?" Elijah queried in concern, "If this man has taken advantage of you, I'll deal with it, I'm sure the Shelby brothers would too."

"No," Florence answered quickly, flustered by the mention of the Shelby family, "It's better that you don't know who he is."

"So what do you suppose you'll do?" Elijah questioned. 

"Prepare myself to become a copy of my mother," Florence sighed, staring into the flames that filled the fireplace.

"What if you didn't have to?" Elijah muttered, a flawed yet arguably necessary idea weighing on his mind.

"Elijah, I've already told you that the father has washed his hands of me," Florence sighed in defeat.

"I know that, but what if we pretend that the baby is mine?" Elijah suggested, overwhelming Florence that he would even contemplate doing something like that for her.

"No, you can't do that, you can't throw your life away like that, I won't let you," Florence told him as her hands began to tremble with nerves.

"Flo, you are my best friend, and I do not care to experience what my parents are subjecting my brother to with that marriage to a stranger," Elijah explained as she felt her eyes fill with tears at the genuinity of his offer, "I'd far rather marry my best friend than a stuck up daughter of a Duke from some godforsaken county south of London."

"Your parents would never give you their blessing to marry me," Florence whispered, wiping tears from her eyes, "Your mother barely tolerates me."

"They wouldn't have a choice," Elijah insisted, "All they want is an heir to inherit the family business."

"I don't know what to say," Florence muttered, "I don't think you realise that this could ruin your life, once this is done we're tied to each other forever."

"I'm aware of how marriage works, Floss." Elijah smiled.

"Are you sure about this?" Florence asked.

"I've never been more sure." Elijah knew he had a choice, but he also knew what could happen if hadn't made such an offer. Florence would've wound up trapped in a marriage to some middle aged business owner from south Birmingham, spending her days on a farm in the middle of nowhere. As flawed as his plan was, at least this way he could protect her and the child.

"Are you sure that this isn't the alcohol talking?" Florence replied, noting the bottle of whiskey beside him.

"I'm not going to leave you to become destitute," Elijah insisted, "Besides, if we both hate it, a year from now we can get divorced and you'll still be financially supported."

"I don't know what to say," Florence whispered in disbelief, having never imagined that Elijah would make such a sacrifice for her.

"You don't have to say anything," Elijah insisted, "But, we do need to think of a believable story to sell this to my parents."

Florence glanced at Elijah, fearing that his imagination was running away with itself, that he still wasn't thinking straight, "You're not just doing this to anger your parents are you?"

"It helps," Elijah answered simply, "But my main reason for suggesting it is you."

"And you don't mind being the father to another man's child?" Florence asked, fearing that Elijah could eventually change his mind.

"I'm doing this for you," Elijah reiterated, "To keep you safe."

"Your parents are going to think you've lost the plot marrying me," Florence sighed.

"Let them," Elijah smirked, as though the idea of losing the title of golden boy was more appealing than anything, "We need to think of a plan."

"The nurse said I'm almost eight weeks pregnant," Florence told him, choosing to leave out the part where she attended a backstreet appointment, "So when do we tell everyone?"

"Soon," Elijah answered, so driven by the plan that you would think he believed the child was actually his, "They'll want time to plan us a wedding, but they'll also want it to be soon enough that you won't be visibly pregnant, to keep up appearances."

Despite how well she knew Elijah, Florence continued to be amazed by the modern man that he was. She wasn't used to being talked to in such a way by any men up until that point. Of course Tommy had always cared for her, but she had never truly felt like his equal.

"Is tomorrow too soon to tell them?" Florence returned, "There won't be any buses out to Small Heath until the morning, they'll probably think it's odd that I'm here."

"Okay," Elijah nodded, "Have you told your mother?"

"Not yet," Florence told him, "The only people I've told are you and the father."

"I'll have a car sent to your house to pick her up, you should tell her before we tell my parents," Elijah suggested.

"I won't tell her the truth," Florence added, "I hate the idea of lying to her, but if she knew the truth she wouldn't be happy."

"You do know that once we're married my parents won't hear of you living in Small Heath?" Elijah reminded her.

"That's fine," Florence pondered the idea of leaving Tommy behind, because the way he had made her feel, there was no way she would continue to let him in every time he got lonely, that was it, "There's nothing left for me in Small Heath."

author's note: well well well, count your days tommy shelby