"This is how John wanted to go, on the smoke," Tommy said as the family surrounded the caravan in which John's lifeless body had been laid to rest, "But the truth is, we died together once before."

"Arthur, me, George, Elijah, Danny Whizz Bang, Freddie Thorne, Jeremiah and John," Tommy continued to speak as Florence and Elijah stood beside George and Lizzie, "We were cut off from the retreat, no bullets left, waiting for the Prussian cavalry to come and to finish us off, and while we waited Jeremiah said we should sing In The Bleak Midwinter."

"But we were spared, the enemy never came and we all agreed that everything after that was extra, and when our time came we would all remember," Tommy told the group.

"You remember that God spared you," Polly muttered. "But what did you do with the extra time that he gave you, eh, Thomas?"

Tommy stood speechless as Florence glanced between him and Elijah. Elijah's jaw was tense and his hands were interlocked behind his back, as though he were trying his very best to hold himself together. Florence returned her gaze to Tommy who's eyes were already on her until he realised that she had noticed.

Arthur coughed under his breath before taking the matches from his pocket to light the flame under John's caravan, the way that they always did at a gypsy funeral. It was a tradition Florence had seen countless times growing up, but that didn't mean it got any easier. John was far too young, and he had always looked out for Florence when they were younger, it still didn't feel entirely real that he was gone, that she wouldn't hear his laugh or see his smile again. The pain she felt didn't consume her the way it once would, her tolerance for emotional pain had increased with her tolerance for physical pain.

As everyone stood in silence while the flames consumed the wooden caravan, paying their respects to John the sound of a gunshot rang through the open space, causing most of the group to drop to the floor.

Elijah pulled Florence down to the ground in an effort to protect her, but she clambered to her knees, pulling her gun from where it sat in the holster under her jacket. George and some of the Lee boys did the same, everyone seemed frightened, everyone except Tommy and Arthur.

"At ease! At ease! Do not return fire!" Tommy shouted at the group, "I repeat, do not return fire!"

"Why the fuck do you have that?" Elijah asked, looking at the gun in Florence's hand.

"Now is not the time," Florence hissed, as Florence slipped her gun back into its holster.

"The men doing the firing are on our side," Tommy assured the group as Florence, Lizzie, Elijah and everyone else slowly stood up, "I took the trouble of getting an invitation to Aberama Gold."

"Oh, fuck, now it's begun," Johnny muttered.

"You put us out in the open on purpose," Polly sighed in disbelief, "You used John's funeral fire as a fucking beacon."

"We were never in any danger, Polly," Arthur assured her.

"You set a trap?" Polly exclaimed.

"Finn, Finn!" Tommy called out for his youngest brother, "Go to the yard and light the fires."

"You set a trap with us as fucking bait!" Polly shouted as she stormed towards Tommy, "Who's dead?"

"Our enemies," Tommy told her as Aberama Gold and his son appeared across the field on horses.

"Who's dead?" Polly repeated.

"Want to know, Pol?" Tommy whispered, "Two fucking Italians heard about the vendetta, tried to make a fucking names for themselves, that's who."

"We got word to them about the funeral, the where, the when," Arthur explained, "Told them where to stand for the best shot."

"And Aberama Gold will do the rest," Tommy sighed, "That's the language of vendetta, they take one of ours, we take two of theirs."

"You used your own brother's funeral," Polly muttered, looking around at what remained of her family, "When did we vote on this, Tommy?"

"Curly, get a boat ready to take the bodies to the city," Tommy instructed him, "And another boat for anyone who wants no more part of this, cause this is how it's going to be."

"I'm not staying for this, Arthur," Linda told her husband as Polly walked away from the group, "I'm going home."

"Oh yeah, home's 57 Watery Lane," Arthur told her as she made her way to the front of the group while he approached her with his house key, "You go there, lock the doors and you wait for me."

Without a word Linda walked away, ignoring her husband, as he held the key out, he looked to Florence for support, the way she once looked to him, "Don't look at me, Arthur, if I go after her she'll hit me over the head with a bible," She told him as Ada took the key from her brother's hand and followed after Linda.

"Florence," Elijah muttered, "We need to talk."

"Alright," She sighed, leading him away from the crowd, "What do you want to talk about?"

"What's happened?" Elijah asked, barely recognising his wife, "This isn't you."

"This is me," Florence sighed, hating how her world was so close yet so far from Elijah's, "This city, these people, it's always been me."

"And the gun?" Elijah remarked.

"Protection," Florence answered simply, choosing to redact the part in which she had been carrying it since the first time she killed a man, "These people will spill blood, they don't mind who's."

"We should go back to London," Elijah replied, believing it to be for the best.

"That won't happen, not until the Changrettas are dead," Florence told him, glancing at Tommy who was standing talking to Aberama Gold as he passed on his horse.

"If he's your father I'm sure we'll be fine," Elijah attempted to reason with her, having his own reasons for not wanting to be in that city.

"You still don't get it," Florence sighed, resting a hand against her temple, "They could use us and the children to reel the Shelby boys in, we're safest here where there are trustworthy men watching our house."

"We should just go home, and in time the dust will settle," Elijah replied, continuing to bury his head in the sand.

"This is home, this will always be home." Florence insisted.

"What's changed?" Elijah asked, "Apart from this business with the mafia, you vowed to never come back here, you told me you hated it."

Florence knew she could answer him honestly, she could just tell him everything that she had been doing by her brother's side for the past six years, but she knew that he wouldn't understand it, "We're meant to be joining the family for a meal at Charlie's yard soon, if you don't want to come, then fine, go back to the house and watch the kids, I'm sure Vinnie would be happy to take your seat at the table."

"You're unbelievable," Elijah sighed, brushing past her and walking back towards Watery Lane.

Florence couldn't blame Elijah for disagreeing with her, he wasn't used to the workings of this world, but she needed him to understand, perhaps Vinnie could get through to him.

She made her way over to Tommy as Aberama Gold and his men carried the bodies on horseback towards Charlie's yard, "You got a cigarette?"

"You said you gave them up." Tommy sighed, pulling a pack from his pocket and handing her one.

"I only smoke on special occasions and when I'm fucking wound up." Florence remarked as he held out a lighter and lit the cigarette that balanced between her lips.

"So which is it today?" Tommy replied.

"Take a guess," Florence gestured towards Elijah as he walked away from the group.

"Trouble in paradise?" Tommy smirked.

"He doesn't understand why we need to be here, why Daisy won't be safe in London, the same way you wouldn't have Charles anywhere except Watery Lane," Florence told him.

"Perhaps if you let him know just how capable you are of looking after yourself he'd understand," Tommy suggested.

"He's never going to understand that either," Florence sighed, "If he knew that I was the one who put a bullet through that sous chef's head then he'd never look at me the same way again."

"So the life you thought you wanted six years ago isn't the life you need?" Tommy remarked.

"What about the life you wanted six years ago?" Florence huffed, "You got married and had a kid."

"I suppose I did," Tommy answered calmly, "But I'd argue that you becoming a cold blooded killer is a slightly more drastic change of character."

"You make a valid point, Thomas," Florence sighed, "I just thought he'd understand all of this, especially now that George is one of your right hand men."

"But he's not married to George, is he?" Tommy replied, "He's seen his brother on the front line in France, killing the enemy with no qualms, like a man possessed, but you, in his eyes you're the purest person he knows."

"You think I'm fucking pure?" Florence frowned.

"I know you're not, I know what you're really like," He briefly looked her up and down, "But he clearly still sees the woman he married to keep safe, the woman who needed him rather than the woman who wanted him."

"That's speculative."

"If you say so," Tommy smirked to himself, "But do tell me, which is it now? Do you want him or need him?"

Florence thought to herself, she wasn't entirely sure that she knew the answer herself. They were such different people, but there was always one man who could read her better than anyone else, and she was yet to decide if that was a gift or a curse.

Florence, George and the Shelby men had made their way from the funeral to Charlie Strong's yard. When she arrived and laid eyes on Charlie who she hadn't seen in over six years she excused herself from whatever the Shelby men fancied doing.

"You look just like your mother," Charlie smiled as the woman approached him, "It's good to see you back here, Flo, how've you been?"

"Taking in the London smoke, you know how it can be," Florence sighed as she leant against one of the crates.

"And your husband?" Charlie remarked.

"I think he'd prefer it if we were back in London, me, him and the kids," Florence admitted.

"And how do you feel about being back here?" Charlie asked, "Everything that happened with your mother, that can't be easy."

"There's only one person I blame for my mother's death, and she's also dead, so perhaps it's time for me to start forgiving," Florence huffed.

"But not forgetting?"

"Never forgetting, Charlie," Florence sighed, "The things we remember are the reasons we do what we do."

"I like your yard, Mr Strong," She looked over her shoulder to see Aberama Gold, accompanied by some of his men, "How much would you take for it?"

"It's not for sale," Charlie answered.

"Not for sale?" Aberama repeated.

"That's exactly what he said," Florence nodded, "Nothing you see here is for sale."

Aberama Gold let his eyes linger on the Harrington woman before stepping away, "Okay."

"I'll find Tommy," Florence muttered to Charlie before weaving her way back through the yard, knowing all the back passages from when she was a child, getting to Tommy, Arthur and George before the Golds.

"Drink?" Tommy held out his hip flask as she approached the fire where the Shelby men and George were standing.

"Why not?" Florence sighed, taking the flask from his hand and letting a swig of the bitter alcohol run down her throat before handing it back to him.

"I just took a look around," Aberama's voice caught the group's attention, "I like this place, fire for melting silver, canal to get it away, how much?"

"As I told you before," Florence looked to the two Shelby men at her side, "Nothing you see is for sale, Mr Gold."

"Mrs Harrington is right," Tommy nodded, and Florence wished that he would just call her by her first name.

"Oh, everything is for sale, everything," Aberama replied, pouring alcohol on the fire to make it burn brighter, "You tell Mr Strong I'm going to buy his yard."

"This yard has been in his family since they settled," Tommy replied.

"But I have decided to make it part of our deal," Aberama remarked with a smile.

"Charlie?" Tommy called out, "Charlie, come here."

Charlie joined the group, wiping dirt off his hands, "We're going to spin a coin for your yard, Charlie."

"You're going to what?" Charlie muttered, saying what Florence was thinking.

"If it's heads, Abby here takes all of this...with my blessing," Tommy replied.

"Tommy." Florence muttered.

"And if its tails," Tommy paused, "I fuck your daughter, Mr Gold."

The group laughed to themselves, or rather Florence, George and Arthur laughed, Tommy was completely serious.

"You have three daughters, I hear, and Esmerelda is the eldest and the prettiest, so I'll have her," Tommy explained, "So make her part of the deal and spin her against the yard."

"Tommy, for fuck sake," Charlie muttered.

"Here, toss the coin, Mr Gold," Tommy tossed a coin towards Aberama who was quick to catch it, staring at Tommy and then looking down at the coin in his hand.

Aberama Gold laughed to himself, as though he didn't believe Tommy would go through with it.

"No, please don't believe this is a joke," Tommy pointed a finger at him, "The coin to us is sacred, yes, Arthur?"

"Sacred."

"If you toss that coin, you take a bet before witnesses," Tommy reminded him, "And if I win..."

"Then we'll insist that the terms of this agreement, or wager, are fulfilled," Florence added.

"Toss the coin, Mr Gold," Tommy replied softly.

Aberama paused, looking at the coin in his hand before looking at the four Birmingham natives who stood before him, "Tommy Shelby OBE, no wager today, but with this penny I will buy a flower to put on your grave, when the time comes."

"And before that time," Tommy replied, "Please don't again disrespect my friends or their valued property," He continued, "We missed Christmas, let's have it now, peace on earth, good will to all men."

Tommy took a seat at the head of the table, Florence on his left, George on his right, beside Arthur, "Toast to my brother, John, raise your glasses all of you," Arthur instructed everyone who was sat at the table, including young men that she didn't recognise, "To John Shelby."

"Cheers." They all clinked their cups of alcohol together.

The group talked amongst themselves as Ada, Lizzie and Polly arrived accompanied by Vinnie and several armed men. Florence glanced at Tommy who was staring at his aunt.

"Talk to her," Florence told him softly.

"I'm the last person she wants to talk to, Florence," Tommy replied.

"You won't win this war if you continue to carry on like this," Florence quipped with a smile.

"Like what?"

"You're the most stubborn man I know, Thomas," She smiled as Lizzie and Ada joined the table, Lizzie sitting beside George who greeted her with a kiss while Lizzie hung back, sitting on an abandoned bench, "Your obstinance is far more dangerous than your enemies."

"So, what do you suppose I should do?" Tommy asked the woman who was one of the few people he would ever take advice from.

"Offer her an olive branch, so she can bury the past, the past will always be there, but it's easier to make peace with it once it's buried." Florence sighed.

"When did you get so fucking wise?" Tommy smirked.

"I always have been, you just never appreciated it," Florence replied as her brother took a seat beside her.

"Daisy's been teaching Ollie and Charles how to dance," Vinnie told his sister, "Linda and Elijah are keeping an eye on them."

"Thank you, Vinnie," Tommy nodded before he made his way over to where Polly was sitting.

"He's a man of few words, isn't he?" Vinnie remarked, glancing at his sister, reminding her of the conversation they had shared the night before in which she told him everything, from her father's identity to her past relationship with Tommy that led to the conception of Daisy.

Vinnie understood everything Florence had done and why she had done it, she didn't have a choice, and he could see that. Ever since he'd arrived in Small Heath with his sister he had wondered what her history with Thomas Shelby was, he could tell that it was more than she had let on. The energy between them was palpable, they were two live wires. They were equals, when six years ago Florence would have believed that she was inferior to the man and his power, now she was level with him.

"He says what needs to be said in moments like these," Florence remarked, taking a sip of whiskey, noting how her brother in law and Lizzie were both too invested in their own conversation to hear her words, "His vocabulary can be far more colourful when he wants it to be."

"They're good people, aren't they?" Vinnie scanned the open space as the siblings watched the interaction between Tommy and Polly.

"They are," Florence nodded, catching sight of Aberama whose eyes were on her for longer than they should be, "How's Elijah?"

"He asked if I knew that you had a gun," Vinnie replied, "I told him it was for protection, explained that he should be relieved that he doesn't have to worry about you, given that you can take care of yourself."

"The irony is," Florence sighed, noticing that Aberama was still watching her from the other end of the table, "He was the one who taught me to shoot a gun."

"Now that does surprise me," Vinnie muttered.

"I'll be back in a moment," Florence told her brother before she promptly stood up and walked the length of the table, taking a seat in the empty chair beside Mr Gold.

"Mrs Harrington-"

"You look at me like I'm a whore again and I'll put a bullet through both of your knees." Florence told him firmly, keeping her eyes on Tommy who was watching her as he spoke to Polly.

Aberama laughed as though he didn't believe her or take her threat seriously.

"Oh you think that's funny, do you?" Florence quipped, turning to look at the man, "You ought to ask Thomas what I did to the sous chef at his house two nights ago."

"Your husband is a respectable businessman, you expect me to believe you, Mrs Harrington?" Aberama remarked.

"My daughter is the child of a Shelby, I grew up on these streets, I've seen and done things that you could only dream of, Mr Gold," Florence told him firmly, "So don't you dare insult me by doubting my integrity."

"It seems I underestimated you," Aberama smiled.

"And that's not the sort of mistake a man makes twice."

author's note: tommy and florence lowkey in their besties era?