𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔𝟕

Arthur sat at the dinner table in his old home on Watery Lane, Maeve's old teddy bear clutched in his hand. He held it tightly and just stared at the wall.

Lillian appeared at the door. "Arthur," she spoke softly, "it's late."

Arthur grunted in response and Lillian just let out a light sigh. It was then that there was a knock on the door. Lillian looked between the front door and Arthur before going to see who was there.

Upon opening the door, she was met with the face of Tommy. "Is Arthur in?" He let himself inside, taking his cap from his head. "Well— yeah he's in there." Lillian said when realising that he was going to go in there anyway.

"Brother," Tommy greeted. Arthur didn't move. "Arthur." Tommy spoke up, stopping at the end of the table.

"I'm not takin' visitors." Arthur said bluntly, his eyes still fixated on the wall. Tommy shook his head and pulled the chair closest to Arthur and sat in it. "Look at me—" Tommy took a breath, "eh, look at me." He practically demanded.

Slowly, Arthur moved his gaze to his younger brother.

Tommy looked at the door. "Lillian— would you, er, give us a moment?" He asked. Lillian frowned but nodded and closed the door over. "What's this about, Tom. Cause if you're tellin' me you can tell her too." He said.

Tommy grabbed Arthur's chin, forcing him to look at him again. "Maeve's alive."

Those words made Arthur's blood run cold. Time stopped for a moment and his mouth parted whilst he tried to say something. "She's— no.. no she ain't." Arthur shook his head.

"Arthur, listen to me, yeah? She's alive."

Arthur pulled away from Tommy's grip and shook his head again. "Don't lie to me, brother. Don't lie to me 'cause I swear i'll kill ya." He threatened.

Tommy took a breath in attempts to stay patient. "She's alive and she's living in a house not too far from where John and Esme used to live. She's fine. She told me that I was to tell you and Finn specifically about what had happened. Nobody else." He said. "Do you understand me, Arthur? Nobody else is to know."

Arthur furrowed his brows together and tried to understand it all. "But she fucking—"

"She had a seizure in the hospital, Arthur. It was her body's reaction to the drugs. But you just so happened to be asleep when she woke again so I was the one to go inside the hospital room. I proposed the idea of— i don't know.. faking her death if you will. Just till things calmed down. I also proposed withdrawing her position. But to that she refused."

Arthur nodded along, starting to understand. "Can I see her?"

"I don't know, Arthur." Tommy lowered his voice. "She's in charge now." He admitted. "And something inside her has changed. I can bloody see it in her eyes." Tommy said when leaning back in his chair.

"What d'ya mean she's in charge?" Arthur scoffed. "You'd never let anybody but yourself—"

Tommy leaned forward and grabbed Arthur's shoulder. "She makes the decisions— what we do next, it's up to her. Arthur the Maeve that I spoke to tonight is not the same Maeve we saw before the party at my home."

"You're scaring me, Tom."

"Right.. just— don't tell anybody she's still alive."

"How come it's you who keeps taking my daughter away from me?" Arthur asked as he stood. Tommy stopped and stared at the door. "It was you who convinced her to go to America and it's you who has convinced her to fake her bloody death. What is it that you want from me— because you know what it does to me every time."

"Shut up, Arthur." Tommy whispered slightly and shook his head slowly, not feeding in to his elder brother's accusation despite how true it may have been.

And with that Tommy patted Arthur's shoulder and made his way over to Polly's old home where he expected Finn to be.

And he was. He was sat in front of the fireplace, staring right into the flames.

"Finn." Tommy spoke up. Finn looked over. "Finn, come here." Tommy nodded toward the couch. Finn hesitated but walked to the couch with a tired, upset look in his eyes.

"I've got something to tell ya. And I need you to listen to me very carefully, do you understand?" He asked. Finn looked at his elder brother with confusion. "Just get on with it, Tom. I can't be bothered with you." Finn said, not caring for any consequence he could receive for talking to Tommy in the way he did.

"Maeve is alive, she's alright."

Finn let out a small gasp and shook his head. "That's not funny, Tommy." He said seriously. Tommy looked away. "No, Finn, she's alive. I'll tell you the same thing I told Arthur— she's living in a house not too far from where John and Esme used to live. She's alright."

"So why did— what was the point of all of this?"

"Because Maeve needs time to think!" Tommy snapped. "If you understood half of what she has went through over these years, you wouldn't be asking questions."

"I'll never get to understand because you all fucking forget about me! I'm never bloody involved!" Finn fired back. "I'm the brother you never got around to. It's like i'm just here to do all the shit you can't be bothered with." Finn huffed. "And i'm sick of it, Tom. I'm bloody sick of it. Maeve even said it herself— many times."

Tommy swallowed and looked away. "Well maybe you're in luck now, Finn. Cause Maeve's the one in control now."

"Don't make me laugh. You're too self absorbed to let anyone else have a say in what goes on around here. Nobody makes a decision without your approval."

"Maeve does." Tommy corrected him. "And by the looks of it, whether I like it or not, she's changed. Being in that hospital again has changed her. If you'd have sat there tonight and seen the way she looked at me— or.. or heard the way she spoke, you'd be afraid of turning your back to walk to the bloody door!" Tommy told him.

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter, alright.. just go to bed or something. And you're not to tell anyone what's going on, do you hear me."

Finn just scoffed and stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

-

Isiah sat alone in his bedroom, his chest tight. He shook his head and dropped his head to his hands. He was struggling to believe it. Maeve was strong, stronger than them all. How could she leave them like? After all she'd fought for.

He placed his fist to his mouth and took a deep breath. His eyes were fixated on the small picture that sat in the frame beside his bed. A picture of them from Arthur and Linda's wedding. Isiah took it from the desk and stared at it for a while.

"Son," Jeremiah appeared at the door. Isiah looked up with tears eyes and shook his head, refusing to let the tears fall. Jeremiah looked at him sadly and sat beside him, wrapping an arm around Isiah's shoulders and pulling him in.

"She's can't be gone, dad." He whispered. Jeremiah kept quiet and just held him. Isiah wasn't the type to cry.

Isiah began thinking about what he and Maeve could have been if he hadn't said what he said to her before she left for America. They'd still be together and she probably wouldn't be dead. He would've helped her stay clean if she needed it. He would've done anything.

-

Maeve sat staring at the paper in front of her. There were three in total. The one of the car on fire, another with what looked like a man hunched over a table with something spilling from his chest: most likely blood but it was hard to tell. And the last was a man stood on a stage with his hand raised in the air and another man stood slightly to the left with his hands clasped before him, his head pointed down and a flat cap sitting atop of it.

And that could've only been one person. Tommy Shelby himself. The man on stage didn't have a face. She couldn't identify him.

But Maeve stared at the images with a frown, unsure how suddenly she was able to draw such specific drawings without seeing them happen. Was this some sort of prediction? Or was Maeve just going insane again?

She was sick of being the insane
Shelby — other than Arthur of course but he was somewhat better than he had been. But with Maeve, everything just seemed to come back to her being insane.

But as time passed and she sat in that house alone, she began wondering whether she was truly insane in the way people made her out to be. Or was she just a true Shelby as well as a true gypsy? Her father's daughter?

Maeve muttered some gypsy words to herself.

The phone rang, making her jump. Quickly, she retrieved the phone and held it to her ear, waiting for the person on the other end to speak. "Maeve, Maeve is that you?" A voice spoke with panic.

Her heart dropped. It was Finn.

"Finny?" She whispered, holding the phone with both hands. "Maeve what the fuck? You're alive? Tommy wasn't lying to me! Fucking— jesus.." he scrambled his words together.

"How did you get my number?" She asked.

"I found it in—" he flicked though the phone book again, "that book Tommy has in his office." He told her.

"Tommy'll go mad if he finds you in there, Finn." She warned him. "I know, I just had to see if he was telling me the truth. I couldn't sleep, Maeve. I thought you were fucking dead, we all did." Finn rushed his words.

"I know, I know. Finn, i'm sorry. I really am. But it's just for a little while, till things calm down." She assured him.

"Maeve, Isiah is in bits. I can't keep it from him."

"Yes you can. You can and you will." Maeve's tone changed and she spoke coldly down the phone and all of a sudden, Finn understood what Tommy had meant by she'd changed in some way or another. "Nobody is to know. Not until we kill the fascist."

"The fascist?" He asked.

Then it hit her. The fascist. The drawing. Maeve dropped the phone for a moment and picked the image up before retrieving the phone again. Her fingers traced the outlines and she spoke to herself once more. It was Oswald Mosley that she had drawn.

"Maeve?" Finn spoke.

"Finn, I love you. Please get some sleep and I'll see you when the dust settles." She said, putting the phone down and looking up.

It was as if Maeve had some sort of sixth sense again. Just like when she was younger and Inspector Campbell had turned up in Small Heath. She remembered sitting on Max Montgomery's bed and getting those type of shivers. The type she would get before something happened. Or both the types she saw a black cat in a dream.

-

"A where the fucking hell have you been?" Polly asked in a scolding voice when John finally returned. John looked at his tired Aunt who sat with a cup of tea in hand, just like she used to. John stopped in his tracks and pulled the gun from his pocket, throwing it to the table.

"I killed him— that's where I've been." He hissed.

Polly's eyes widened and she put down her tea. "Oh you didn't." She said in disbelief. "The Montgomery boy?" She asked. John sniffed and threw himself down into a chair. "Went to London and payed a man to tell me where he was. It's funny what people will do for money."

"You went all the way to bloody London?!" Polly raised her voice. "We have all been worried sick. We thought you'd gone and thrown yourself in the cut!"

"Yeah, i'm considering that too." He said, half joking but half telling the truth. "Yeah well you should look at her bloody father, John." Polly shook her head. "And Isiah. Jeremiah has been over here stressing about his son!"

"What about me, eh? Or Finn and Ada? God, even Tommy? He may not act like it but he does have a fuckin' heart, especially when it comes to Maeve. Arthur and Isiah ain't the only ones who knew her." John said through gritted teeth.

Polly glared at him.

"She was like my fucking daughter, Pol. I've always said it. Like my first fucking daughter." He repeated his words. "And now she's gone. We let her slip through our fingers."

"Don't say that as if it's my fault." Polly defended.

"But it is! It's all of our faults, Pol. And you can't deny that." He argued. "We were the ones who called her fucking crazy every time she did something wrong. When in reality, it was just the same as what me, Arthur and Tommy do. And instead of giving her real help, you gave her the same meds you gave Arthur that didn't work one bit. And when she finally got better, we brought her back home. Look what that did for her! And Tommy fuckin' inviting Max Montgomery when she believed her was dead!"

"John calm down." Polly said.

"No— no I won't." His voice cracking and he looked away. "I loved that girl like she was my own. And you killed her." He said, the word you not specifically directed at Polly.

Polly decided not to argue back the moment she saw his eyes glisten with sadness. "Oh, John." She whispered, going to him and cupping his face. "John, love it's alright." Polly assured him, pulling him into her embrace.

"She's gone...fuckin—" he choked on his words and Polly closed her eyes, a hand on the back of his head. "And we let it happen," he croaked.

"No we didn't, John. Do not blame yourself for this." Polly said. "It was an unfortunate accident." She added.

Before Polly could say anymore, John had stormed out again and slammed the door behind him which caused the wood to rattle slightly.

"Jesus Christ," Polly muttered to herself. She had never seen John in such a state. Not even when his wife Martha had died. The look in John's eyes upset Polly because it took her back to when John was a little boy. The little boy that found his mother floating face down in the canal.

"Alright, you go on." Arthur urged his little brother to leave as he stayed on the corner with his own friends, a cigarette in between his lips. John scowled and shoved his hands in his pockets, kicking stones as he walked. It was a cold afternoon and John had nothing to do.

He had spent his morning playing with little Ada but soon got bored. And Arthur didn't want him around whilst they got up to things that Aunt Pol would kill him for.

John pushed open the gate to where the canal sat. He liked it there. It was quiet. And he could easily get to Charlie's yard if he walked straight down.

The young boy huffed and looked out into the water, stopping in his tracks when he saw somebody laying in there. He peered over the edge and frowned, his heart pounding against his chest. At first he was unsure if he knew the woman who lay there. But it was the white dress that gave it away as well as the light ginger locks. It was the dress his mother loved to wear. It had small pink detailings scattered across the fabric.

His heart dropped. "Mum?" He called out. His heart was beating rapidly. "Arthur! Arthur—" John screamed, jumping into the water despite hardly being able to swim. "Mum—" John fussed in the water and tried to grab the woman whose body was freezing cold.

Arthur had came rushing around the corner alongside Tommy who must've joined them after John had left. "John what're you doing in— oh my god." Arthur stumbled backward.

Tommy's face fell and they watched in shock as their young brother splashed about in the ice cold water, trying to save his mother. "He can't bloody swim, what are you playing at?" Uncle Charlie rounded the corner after hearing the commotion.

But he saw the look on the elder boys faces and realised it was something much more. "Oh my—" Charlie whispered.

Arthur wasted no time before leaning over the edge to drag his little brother from the water. "It's mum, Artha!" He shouted, panicked tears dripping down his face.

Tommy watched in complete and utter shock, his stomach churning.

Arthur held John tightly in his embrace as Charlie forced Tommy to help him drag the woman from the canal. Tommy squeezed his eyes closed and turned away once she was on the cobble. Charlie kneeled beside her and touched her face, whispering things to her.

John kicked and shouted whilst trying to fight his way out of Arthur's grip. "Let me bloody go! She needs us!" He argued.

"John boy stop." Arthur kept a hold of him.

Tommy and Arthur knew what had happened. They knew that their mother had been unhappy for a long time. They had grown to notice that she hardly ever left the house.. her bedroom for that matter. And when she did leave the bedroom, you'd find her cradling young Ada in her arms or peering over the crib that held baby Maeve.

Martha Shelby had always wished for a daughter so when she had Ada, Ada became something she vowed to protect more than anything. And then Maeve appeared on their doorstep and Martha would just watch the baby in awe, completely taken aback by her beauty even at such a young age.

That very night, the Shelby house remained silent. Nobody spoke a work. John sat sniffling by the fire, Ada tucked under his arm. Tommy was like a ghost, staring at the flames that roared from the fireplace.

Arthur held his baby girl close to him, guilt and sorrow in his chest.

Their father was no where to be found. Polly was sat with Finn asleep in her lap as usual. "I'm er.. i'm going to bed, Polly." Arthur finally spoke, placing baby Maeve back in her crib.

The most he got was a few nods and grunts but that was it. After a while, Polly decided to take young Finn up to get in bed along with Ada. Which left John and Tommy in the living room.

Tommy was completely zoned out, on the verge of sleep.

John had made his way over to Maeve as she began fussing slightly and scooped her up. "It's alright," he whispered, quiet enough to not disturb Tommy. "I hope you never meet such a cruel world, Maeve." He said, "i'll try my best to keep you safe. Even if it's something I do till the very day I die." He promised.

And he kept his promise as best as he could. It was him who defended her, every time. Him who would try and reason with the family when they talked bad on her name. Him who offered to run away with her.

But it just so happened that she did the same too. And she protected him till the day she died.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

not proof read properly.