Children were resilient, Florence had come to know that in the days that passed Elijah's departure. She knew that Daisy was more intelligent than the average six year old, but she hadn't realised just how emotionally receptive the young girl was.

Since Elijah had left Small Heath, Daisy had only asked after him once, whereas Oliver, who was younger and lacked an understanding of such things, had more questions and would cry for his father some nights.

Florence felt guilt ridden for robbing her son of being with his father, Daisy had a ready made replacement waiting if Florence ever saw it fit to tell her the truth. The same truth that Daisy seemed to have forgotten about, choosing not to ask any more questions in the wake of Luca Changretta's cryptic revelation.

But that didn't stop Daisy's intrigue in the man who was in fact her father. Despite not knowing who he truly was to her, she asked after him most mornings, and with every request to visit the man, Florence wondered whether it would be best to tell her young, yet resilient daughter the truth.

She wondered whether the information would be better received now, when she was younger and had a more innocent perception of the world, rather than ten years down the line when she had a greater understanding of the world, and what it meant to be a child born out of wedlock.

Florence also knew what it meant to feel unwanted by a father, and while it was more complicated than that with Tommy, she didn't want to risk waiting until Daisy was sixteen when she'd have to explain it all, because sixteen year olds understood the world. The last thing Florence wanted was for Daisy to spend ten years adoring the man before discovering that he made that decision without understanding his reasons.

Which led Florence to Tommy's office, yet again, walking hand in hand with Daisy as they entered the Shelby Company Limited offices. The little girl was proudly carrying the wooden horse that Tommy had given her.

"Morning, Lizzie," Florence smiled as she approached the brunette woman's desk, "Is Tommy in?"

"Not yet," Lizzie sighed, "Do you want me to pass on a message?"

"No," Florence shook her head as Daisy stood beside her, "Little lady wanted to see him, and I was going crazy stuck in that house."

Since the incident at the hospital, Tommy had been even more protective of both Florence and Daisy, insisting that neither of them travel without the company of a Peaky Blinder (which was why Isiah was standing outside the Shelby Company building). He needed to be sure that the Changrettas couldn't get close to them.

"Mummy, can we take Tommy to meet Rascal and Whiskey?" Daisy tugged on her mother's hand with an eager smile.

"One day, my love," Florence smiled down at the little girl, picking her up and perching her on the edge of Lizzie's desk, "He's very busy at-"

Florence's sentence was cut short by the doors opening, as Tommy walked in, followed by the woman Florence knew to be May Carleton. She wasn't quite sure what to make of the Carleton woman, she also wasn't sure why this woman was accompanying Tommy to his office.

"Tommy!" Daisy exclaimed, stopping the man in his tracks as he looked between Florence and his daughter.

"I've got some business to take care of," Tommy told the young girl, "Then we can play horses, okay?"

"Okay," Daisy nodded eagerly.

"Morning, Lady Carleton," Lizzie scoffed, letting her opinion of the woman be known.

"I'm not a lady," May answered bluntly as she followed Tommy into his office, bewildered by the presence of Daisy.

"Too right, you're not," Lizzie muttered to herself.

"You don't like her?" Florence remarked, intrigued by Lizzie's opinion of the woman.

"Can't stand her," Lizzie scoffed, "She waltzes in here all high and mighty, like we're all below her, just because they fu-" Lizzie's words trailed off when she remembered Daisy was present.

"Because they what?" Florence raised her eyebrows in intrigue.

Lizzie sighed, assuming that Florence would be able to put the pieces together, "Let's just say I don't think that horse was the only thing getting ridden a couple of years ago."

"Him and his rich women," Florence chuckled under her breath.

"You weren't rich when you two..." Lizzie sighed, "Well, I suppose you are now, at least."

"Suppose I am."

"I've got to give him these accounts," Lizzie dumped the thick book on her desk, "End of year accounts for the Grace Shelby Institute."

"I'll do it," Florence offered, wishing to suss out the woman who sat with Tommy, "Just watch Daisy for me, will you?"

"End of year accounts for the Grace Shelby Institute, Thomas," Florence smiled as she wandered into the office.

"I've already signed off on those, Florence," Tommy huffed, feeling caught in a situation of compromise.

"Your daughter is asking after you," Florence replied, folding her arms across her chest, "Says she wants to show you her new horse."

"Tell her I'll be there in a moment," Tommy answered.

"She can come and visit Mr Shelby's horse at my estate if she likes," May suggested.

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Florence replied, "We've got two thoroughbreds in Surrey, trained by the finest trainer from France."

"Is that all, Florence?" Tommy sighed.

"I just think it's remarkable of a woman of your class to make the trip to a place like Small Heath," Florence smirked at May, "Do you get your kicks rubbing shoulders with the likes of us?"

"Florence," Tommy warned her.

"Tommy's a bit like that too, sees something glamorous and expensive and he just can't resist it," Florence teased, "He's so weak."

"Actually, speaking of the Grace Shelby Foundation, I'd like to make a donation," May stated as Florence rolled her eyes in disbelief, "I'll leave it blank, you can decide how much, Mr Shelby, then, perhaps, Florence can pop to the bank and pay it in for me."

"I've got men to do that sort of work for me," Florence remarked as she took the signed cheque from May's hand, "Prefer to get my hands dirty in other ways, isn't that right, Thomas?"

"Thank you, Florence."

"Ask him about Christmas Eve," Florence told May as she walked back towards the office door, "Ask him what happens when I encounter the men, and sometimes women, who choose to stand on the wrong side of history."

Florence looked between the pair one last time, Tommy's jaw was clenched, and May seemed concerned for her own safety.

I'll bring Daisy back once you've had your fun," Florence told him, "That'll be all."

"Is Tommy coming?" Daisy looked up as her mother returned to her.

"Soon, lovely girl," Florence assured her, offering Lizzie a knowing look, "You got a pen, Lizzie?"

"Yeah, why?" Lizzie replied.

"Lady Carleton wants to make a donation, says Tommy can choose the amount," Florence told her, "Reckon I'll beat him to it."

"It'd be my honour," Lizzie smiled, handing over her pen as Florence promptly filled in the cheque, reckoning that ten thousand pounds was a reasonable donation.

"That should do it, right?" Florence handed the cheque back to Lizzie.

"That'll more than bloody do it, Flo," Lizzie smirked as she filed the cheque to be paid later that day.

"What'll do it, Mummy?" Daisy asked inquisitively.

"Our Rascal," Florence kissed the top of her daughter's head, "He's going to win us hundreds of trophies because he's such a beauty."

Florence looked over her shoulder at the sound of the office door opening to be met with the sight of Tommy walking towards her, "What the fu-" He stopped himself when he laid eyes on Daisy, "What was that about, Florence, eh?"

"Have a guess," Florence smirked, for no other reason except that she wasn't keen on May, and wanted to see Tommy squirm, given the history he shared with both women (albeit, his history with Florence ran far deeper).

"You know what, I can't even guess anymore, I'll be back at four," Tommy huffed as he headed towards the door.

"Tommy," Daisy called out, holding up her wooden horse with a gentle smile.

Tommy looked between Florence and Daisy before walking back towards his daughter and kissing her on top of her head, "I'll see you this evening, Daisy."

"Why's she still here?" Florence asked, gesturing towards the office where May sat as Tommy left the building.

"Something to do with the coal miners, apparently." May remarked as she made her way out of the office.

Florence looked over her shoulder at Lizzie, who simply smirked, "What?" Florence frowned.

"I've missed seeing the two of you like that," Lizzie replied.

"Like what?"

"Like fire on fire."

Florence had found herself at Tommy's gin distillery, hoping to wash away any remaining traces of the day's events. She had spent the day with her children, which was what she enjoyed, but then she was floored by a special delivery, a delivery she hadn't quite expected.

Elijah had made the choice for her.

"Florence?"

The young woman sat up from the stacked hay bales where she'd been lying, working her way through a bottle of Tommy's handcrafted gin.

"Let me guess, you were expecting the posh Lady Carleton," Florence scoffed as she swung her legs back and forth, "Well, she's long gone, little birdy told me the train strike ceased existence."

"Something like that," Tommy nodded, having returned Mrs Carleton to Curly's care just moments before, entrusting him to return her to the nearest train station.

"You like fucking the rich, don't you, Thomas?" Florence smirked as she took a sip of gin straight for the bottle, "In every sense of the word."

"Excuse me?"

"Polly talks," Florence sighed, "Theres the literal 'fucking the rich,' you know, Grace, May, that Russian who fucked you over."

"Flo-"

"But then there's the 'fucking over of the rich,'" Florence continued as she stepped down from the hay bales, approaching Tommy slowly, "Two very different acts, all designed to reach the same outcome."

"And what might that be?" Tommy muttered as Florence stood before him, just a mere few inches between them.

"To bring Tommy Shelby pleasure."

"What's gotten into you?" Tommy sighed, because he knew that Florence wasn't drunk, she was simply choosing to be liberal with the truth.

"No one," Florence muttered, "Not for a long time."

"And what do you make of the gin?" Tommy asked, "You seemed to have sampled enough."

"Not quite sweet enough," Florence answered, "Americans like it sweeter."

"And you," Tommy replied, "How do you like it?"

"I like my gin with a bit of smoke," Florence told him, "And I want to see the rest."

"This way," Tommy gestured for her to follow him.

"So this is where you've been hiding," Florence remarked as she followed him into the cellar that was filled with bottles upon bottles of gin, "Is this a hobby?"

"I don't have time for hobbies, you know that," Tommy sighed, "This is more of a place where I try things out...I decided if I'm going to be stuck here in Small Heath, I might as well do something useful."

"Killing Italians for the sake of a vendetta isn't useful?" Florence smiled.

"Well, this is more of a venture," Tommy replied as he placed a crate of bottles on the table, "Since the start of prohibition I've been sending single malt Scotch Whiskey to Boston, Halifax and Nova Scotia, hidden in car parts, my supply lines from Scotland have been unreliable, there's been a lot of thefts."

"Sounds like more than just a venture, Tommy," Florence sighed knowingly as she watched him pour gin into two glasses.

"And in this modern age, American women drink as much booze as the men," Tommy explained, "Women apparently prefer gin."

"You'd know," Florence quipped, "Surround yourself with enough of them."

"Well, with the help of a friend of mine in Camden Town, I set up me own source of supply," Tommy ignored her remark, "Junipers, potatoes, sugar and water, all turned into US dollars."

"Impressive."

"When we're up and running we'll produce over two hundred gallons a week," Tommy told her, stepping closer, closing the gap between them, "But before then, I need to get my recipe right," He held up a glass in front of her, "So tell me the truth."

"The truth is a dangerous thing, Thomas," Florence whispered as she took the glass from his hand, taking a sip, "But danger doesn't scare you, does it?"

"The gin?"

"Sweet enough for the Americans," Florence answered, her eyes wandering between Tommy's eyes and mouth, "Too sweet for me...not enough smoke."

"How do you suppose I put smoke in my gin, eh?" Tommy smirked at her unusual remark.

"Like this," Florence took a sip of the gin, before stepping closer to him, resting her hands on his jaw as she kissed him slowly, their lips moulding together in a way that didn't terrify her, in fact it made her feel alive in ways that she hadn't felt since she left Small Heath six years before.

Tommy pulled back with a frown, "You said-"

"I said a lot of things, Thomas," Florence whispered, resting her forehead against his, "And so did Elijah's lawyers."

"What do you mean?"

"He's filed for the divorce, accusing me of infidelity," She told him, "They've said that either I can sign the papers with no trouble, giving him everything, all the businesses, leaving me with nothing, or we can go through the courts, and I'll no doubt leave with nothing except my name in every gutter from here to Westminster."

"You don't need his money," Tommy insisted, knowing that he would offer Florence financial stability, despite her willingness to remain with independent, "Did he speak of the children?"

"He wants custody of Oliver," Florence revealed the truth that she had been keeping to herself for a few hours, not knowing what to make of it, "I assume he knows he won't stand a chance trying to take Daisy."

"I'll get you the best lawyers this country has," Tommy was quick to assure her, "The children should be with you, not that man who betrayed our trust, your trust, just to..."

"To have you killed," Florence whispered, aware of what Tommy was too afraid to admit, "I can't ask you to do that, Thomas."

"You're not asking me to do anything, Flo," He assured her, grazing his knuckles over her cheekbone, "We wouldn't be in this situation if I hadn't made that decision."

Tommy Shelby wasn't a man who chose to live in regret, he was the sort of man to live by chance, flipping a coin on life or death decisions. But there was one thing he would continue to regret for as long as he lived, and he wasn't sure that regret would ever subside.

"A woman like me doesn't stand a chance against a man like him in a civil court," Florence continued to fear the worst possible outcomes.

"A woman like you?"

"I was born out of wedlock to a teenage girl, I didn't have any prospects until I became a Harrington, and then he'd no doubt have them argue that I'm unfit to be a mother because of my association to your family," Florence explained the points that had been weighing on her mind since she received the items in the post, "We should just be grateful he doesn't know the truth about the work that Vinnie and I did in London."

"I suppose that's something," Tommy sighed, "Do the papers have a return address?"

"Dublin," Florence replied, "Which doesn't mean he's there, it could just be where his lawyers are based."

"I have men who could find him if you wanted," Tommy told her, "We could handle this the way I should've done in the first place."

"No," Florence was quick to shake her head, "What he did was wrong, but he had his reasons, and even though I don't agree with them, I know that it's never that simple...just like you."

"Me?"

"You're not as complicated as you let people think you are, Thomas Shelby," Florence told him.

"You're the only woman I've met who's never expected me to change," Tommy muttered as he ran his thumb over her cheek.

"Because I know you're a good man who does bad things for the right reasons," Florence answered, "People like us don't have the luxury of avoiding such decisions."

"If I could go back and unwrite, then rewrite everything that I put you through, I would," Tommy assured her, choosing to bear even more of his chest.

"What do you mean by everything?" Florence whispered.

"Everything that followed the moment I told you I couldn't marry you was a mistake," Tommy answered honestly.

Florence kissed him again, because it was an affirmation of everything that she needed to hear as much then, as she longed for six years before. Tommy took this as his permission, his hands threaded through her hair as her fingers trailed over his jaw, their kisses grew deeper and messier, just as they were six years ago. They had changed and grown in so many ways, yet there was still something from the past that remained, a fire that had never truly burnt out.

Both Florence and Tommy on separate occasions over the six years that followed Florence's departure, had attempted to convince themselves that the fire that existed between them had burnt out. But no matter how hard they tried to forget one another, no matter who's company they found themselves in, the embers of that once roaring fire never truly burnt out.

Unbeknownst to the rest of Small Heath, those same embers of the once dying fire were alight again, and burning brighter than they ever had.

author's note: well, well, well...the fun's begun

as always, let me know what you thought of the chapter!!!