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dreamcast641 · 1 year ago

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Weak Minds

note: it is time that I make public this short fanfic I wrote with my two OCs. It was supposed to be a rp start but it never took off. I'm not good at writing, at all and this is my first stuff that I put in public. So sorry for my english.

Characters: Claire Ekaterina Makarova, Dmitry Vasilij Makarov, a random D-class Word counting: 2920 Fandom: SCP foundation Warnings: Medical reports, suicide, PTSD, panic attack, graphic description of violence, gore drawing at the end

''D-4022 appears as a white male of Caucasian ancestry no less than 40 years old, approximately 5'7 tall and weighing 163 lbs.

Neil Harden, stated name of Class D subject, was inmate on death row in Marin County, California, from ████ to ████following his sentence given on ████████ at ████ time for the murder of first degree to the detriment of his wife Melanie Frank and the newborn child.

Neil Harden was voluntarily transferred to Site 5C, following an offer to work with the foundation in exchange for his life.''

—---------------------

*Dmitry put the paper away and with his fingers slid it to the far corner of the desk in front of him. He bent his back to the right, down slightly to pick up a stack of scribbled papers placed on the drawer just below him.*

—----------------------------

''Data of the exam: ████

Time of the exam: 3:01:09 PM

Patient Name: D-4022 (Neil Harden)

Patient number: 100000205659743

Neil shows symptoms of generalized anxiety, depression and, as stated by Neil, has frequent panic attacks in work circumstances as well as muscle tension in the neck and shoulders. Neil said he often felt irritable and had difficulty concentrating. Also declared hypervigilance and feeling tired for no apparent reason.

Therapy content: The patient today told his life in general, focusing on what prompted him to commit the murder for which he was sentenced to capital punishment. Neil said he felt anxious about the future: ''I feel hopeless, I never know what awaits me when I walk through the door of those cells. Waiting for my premeditated death in the row was less excruciating than this''. Feelings of guilt were expressed.

Therapeutic Intervention: The main focus of this first therapy session was general knowledge of the patient in charge. No therapy has been prescribed at the moment.

Diagnosis: The following diagnosis is based on initial information given by the patient, it may change with other sessions.

Generalized anxiety disorder, f41.1(ICD-10) (active).

Instructions/recommendations/plan:

Return 2 weeks later or sooner if requested and permitted by director ████████ ████

Time spent in counseling: 30 min.

Session start: 3.00pm

Session end: 3.30pm

Dmitry Vasili Makarov, Medical Department.'' ------------------------------------------------------

''Data of the exam: ████

Time of the exam: 4:30:10 PM

Patient Name: D-4022 (Neil Harden)

Patient number: 100000205659743

Neil returned two weeks later for his second session. Generalized anxiety symptoms continue to be described. Neil continues to complain of increasingly recurring physical fatigue, he also adds the appearance of trembling, confusion, nightmares and declares that he hears ''a loud ringing similar to a vintage telephone''. Hypervigilance and increasingly frequent panic attacks, even after the working day.

Content of therapy: The patient talked about the problems encountered during the week. Neil says he has never experienced such physical problems and has no idea where they came from or what could have caused them.

Mental State: Neil is irritable and distracted due to constant missing hours of sleep. He struggles to generate smooth, coherent, uninterrupted speech. Pieces of his story appear to have changed and undisclosed details have surfaced last week. Neil claims to have served in the U.S. military from ████ to ████, permanently retired on ████ of ███████.

He has auditory hallucinations. Suicidal ideas have not been denied, often the patient contemplates premature death. No homicidal idea declared. More and more recurring feelings of guilt.

Therapeutic Intervention: This session focused on addressing the patient's sleep and anxiety issues. Ventilation was requested several times during the session to make the speech more coherent and easier to understand. Methods to reduce stress and to have a regular sleep cycle were discussed with the patient.

Diagnosis: The following diagnosis is based on initial information given by the patient, it may change with other sessions.

Generalized anxiety disorder, f41.1(ICD-10) (active).

Possible PTSD

Instructions/recommendations/plan:

Return 2 weeks later or sooner if requested and permitted by director ████████ ████

Blood tests and neurological tests are required to rule out any pathologies (e.g. brain tumor.)

Time spent in counseling: 1 h

Session start: 4.30pm

Session end: 5.30pm

Dmitry Vasili Makarov, Medical Department.—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Data of the exam: ████

Time of the exam: 2:31:00 PM

Patient Name: D-4022 (Neil Harden)

Patient number: 100000205659743

The patient returned to the office just one week after the last session with permission from the director (redacted). He claims that he needs immediate psychiatric intervention as he cannot sleep due to frequent nightmares encountered during sleep. He states auditory hallucination still present, possible visual hallucinations found. Fatigue, confusion, trembling, hypervigilance still present. Experienced frequent mood swings.

Therapy content: Neil brought more details of his military career in the US Army. He claimed he saw the ''horrors of war'' and lived in a prison camp in Iran from ████ to ████ and saw many (redacted) done to his comrades including ████████ with consequent ████████ and ████████████.

Mental State: In today's session neil was agitated, irritable, not fully communicative as he would stop to cry or stare at a vague spot in the corner of the office. The volume of his voice was high because, as claimed by the patient, ''I can't hear it with all this noise in my ears'' which often led the patient to request several times the questions posed by myself. Suicidal ideas were confirmed by the patient, frequent times when he contemplates his end. More recurring guilt feelings with the occurrence of auditory hallucinations. He claims to see and hear a female figure holding a newborn baby just a few days old. The patient suspects that his deceased wife is tormenting him from beyond the grave.

Therapeutic Intervention: Today's session focused on digging deeper into Neil's soldiering past. The details proved useful in diagnosing PTSD for the war. Prescribed citalopram as initial drug therapy. The patient presented the prescribed neurological examinations. No physical problems detected.

Diagnosis: The following diagnosis is based on initial information given by the patient, it may change with other sessions.

Generalized anxiety disorder, f41.1(ICD-10) (active).

Post traumatic stress disorder, f43.1 (DSM-5) (active)

Instructions/recommendations/plan:

Return 2 weeks later or sooner if requested and allowed by the director (redacted)

Requested surveillance of subject for suicidal thoughts expressed during session.

Citalopram prescribed.

Time spent in counseling: 1:30 H

Session started: 2:30 PM

Finished session: 4:00 PM

Dmitry Vasili Makarov, Medical department.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------Site 5c hallways

He suddenly stopped as soon as he saw that he was only a few steps away from meeting the woman in that long silent corridor. He knew the risks he was running with what he was about to do and how much she would not have thought twice about putting an end to the his existence, armed to the teeth like how she was, but he had reached his limit: Guilt for what he had done and the memories of his past were eating at him like a parasite does with its host. His only way out of his mind and from that place seemed like one and only one, he didn't care if she had killed him or if he had succeeded in his intent and leave as he wanted.

He whirled around after dismissing further thoughts, ran after the soldier who was now only a few meters away and threw himself on her. One of his hands firmly gripped the rifle barrel resting on her back as the other tried to yank away the cloth strap that held the weapon attached to her armor.

<<DROP IT!>>

Claire managed to exclaim as much as she felt her lungs straining to catch what little oxygen was passing through her windpipe. Both rows of her teeth gripped tightly on the tops and her voice became lower and darker than it was.

The strap had suddenly lifted from her chest and landed on her neck, both of them pulling in completely different directions. The more Claire tried to bring the rifle back on her through the fabric with which it was bound, the more he pulled back, each time harder and harder and more insistent. <<Fuck...>>

He murmured, feeling his fingers burn from the effort, he released his grip on her belt allowing Claire to breathe normally. But she didn't have time to react that his hands, before on the barrel, slid rapidly over the trigger as he ducked sharply, placing his temple as close to the tip as possible. The forefinger pressed against the cold metal of the weapon and a loud booming sounded through the whole corridor.

It all happened so fast that it took Claire nearly two full minutes to process what had just happened.

The few noises she could hear, such as the constant hum of the white lights that illuminated the corridor, were muffled and overlaid by an annoying whistling due to the dangerous proximity of her ears to the rifle barrel when the d-class subject had pressed the trigger.

She turned slowly, her first instinct was to touch her face. Something thick and liquid was dripping from her skin, wetting her gloved fingers.

She looked down, her hand covered in warm blood and she almost winced as her eyes focused on what she glimpsed between the slits that separated the fingers with eachother:

The man who, until a few minutes ago was attacking her, lay motionless on the ground. His body barely moved, taken by the convulsions of the sudden impact caused by the weapon.

His orange clothes began to soak with vermilion blood coming from his now almost non-existent head of which she could see fragments of brain matter scattered throughout the area. Some of it had even hit her, the metal walls and the ceiling of the corridor.

Claire didn't know how to react, her legs felt paralyzed in place as if her feet were stuck to the ground with super glue. She could feel her heartbeat rumbling all over her chest until it reached her throat, she had to swallow several times to get that nagging feeling out of her.

Deaths inside the foundation were the order of the day, not a week went by that someone was torn to pieces by who knows what dangerous creature just to be able to contain it. Yet it didn't explain why her body was feeling shock at that moment. Maybe witnessing someone take their own life like that was…different? She almost felt empathy for that laboratory guinea pig, whose mere existence and thinking about what crime he had committed deserved the death sentence and therefore the possibility of working with the foundation with the false promise of freedom they would never see made her stomach turn.

She felt her head weigh down on her shoulders from too many questions that were traveling lightning inside her mind.

A familiar voice tho brought her back down to earth.

<<What a disaster, tsk tsk.>>

Dmitry shook his head in disappointment as his cold eyes scanned the scene before him. In his sarcastic tone you could almost hear a slight smug chuckle.

Claire raised her head, hearing her brother's wet footsteps stop suddenly in front of her, the two separated only by the man's corpse.

<<and yet I told him to do it without getting too dirty. What a pity>>

She couldn't understand what he was blabbering about, did he know the man? She deduced that he was one of his patients but there was something strange in her brother's words, as if he already knew what had happened or at least he already anticipated it.

<<Do you know him?>>

She murmured, interrupting that sort of monologue Dmitry was having with himself.

<< Neil was one of my patients, he came weekly to my office for a follow-up visit. You know, apparentely even the class d staff can ask for it... >>

Dmitry smiled slightly.

<<...shame that the therapy didn't go as he hoped.>>

He shrugged. The two continued to stare straight into each other's eyes and Dmitry almost seemed pleased by his sister's reaction, he could see the terror in her grayish eyes as she realized what her brother had done. She had guessed that he was responsible for the death of Neil and, perhaps, also other people that she had known in the past who had died under unknown circumstances, such as the head of the internal security department:

A totally healthy old man despite his age who, out of the blue, found himself on the hospital bed, emaciated and dying. He didn't even remember his name.

Doctors blamed dementia, a common disease for elderly people like him.

The command passed to claire who in turn gave it to her brother, she still remembered how his eyes lit up when she shook his hand after handing over the level 4 security key.

<<Did you kill him too?>>

Claire asked, her voice shaking from her.

<<He who?>>

Dmitry turned his head slightly to the side, letting his long white hair fall back onto his sweater. There were many who he had eliminated for one reason or another, just as many were those who he had visited in dreams. Site 5c staff were not left out.

<<The old boss. It wasn't dementia that killed him, was it? H- he was healthy the day before ... >>

<<Maybe, he didn't have that much left to live anyway.>>

Dmitry's arrogant tone was scaring her. She was fond of that old man despite the hard training she had to undergo for years to become the woman she is today.

<<I needed some documents. Our papers… and he wasn't going to give them to me. >> <<It took you so little?...>>

Dmitry didn't answer, just looked her up and down. Claire's eyes widened slightly already knowing the answer. Having nothing more to say, he stepped over the corpse lying in front of him. In the distance they could hear some guards approaching the scene, alerted by the gunshot.

He calmly passed his sister without even glancing at her and walked towards the end of the corridor, disappearing behind the metal door that separated one section from the next, leaving behind a long trail of bloody footprints.

He left Claire alone, frightened and trembling in the middle of a pool of blood. A shiver shot down her spine, finally realizing what had been happening in front of her nose for years, that she had been warned by many but that the love she felt for her brother had made her blinded. She felt weak, helpless and above all a complete idiot. She's an idiot for covering for Dmitry for years despite the constant verbal abuse she was subjected to. The realization that he hated her was destroying her internally, she felt her heart ache from how much it was weighing on her. She had to put a hand on her chest to squeeze it, her heartbeat quicken, her tears moisten thar scared eyes of her.

She had to start breathing through her mouth, she felt like dying, the air missing from her lungs.

<<Everything okay?>>

One of the guards who had just arrived at h

the scene asked under his helmet, gripping her wrist gently to make sure she was alright. Claire jerked her hand away, starting to back away.

She wanted to get away, find a hidden place to calm down. She didn't want to appear like that in front of so many people.

She turned and ran in the direction of the same door her brother had passed through and threw herself to the floor, curling up in the corner of the room still with her hand clutching her heart.

She couldn't understand anything anymore, she wasn't paying attention to what was around her. Her head was exploding, she was shaking and never before had she felt so scared.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Incident Report ████/████

Incident report ID#:4022

Summary: The incident started when D-4022 assaulted agent Claire Ekaterina Makarova to take her weapon to commit suicide.

The reasons for the gesture are unknown but it is suspected to be caused by post-traumatic stress disorder declared to be present in the D-Class subject by doctor Dmitry Vasilij Makarov who was then in charge of D-4022 as his patient. Doctor also stated that █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████. Permissions granted by Director ███ and ethics committee.

Agent Claire E. Makarova, the only witness to the incident, refuses to speak despite countless attempts to interview her.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

The stiff tip of the pen slipped on the sheet of paper producing a long monotonous noise that broke the silence of the room. Dmitry looked up, admiring that thin line he had drawn on the name of his now ex patient. Neil Harden.

His name confused with those of others, in a long list that seemed to never end.

His slender fingers delicately placed the pen and paper carefully in the drawer below him, remembering well to lock it immediately afterwards.

He could be satisfied with that experiment. Another time he was able to prove how fragile the human mind is and how easy it is becoming for him to manipulate people's memories through their dreams. Their unconscious revived events that had never happened and traumas they had never experienced, thus leading them to exhaustion. The mind became convinced of this, they firmly believed they were what they never were.

A slight knock on the door almost made him jump, he wasn't waiting for anyone in that time frame.

<<It's open...>>

On the other side, as it opened, a strand of blond hair peeked into the room.

#scp foundation #oc writing #scp original character #original character #original fiction #scp foundation writing #original characters #scp foundation art #scp ocs

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psycheswritings · 5 years ago

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Nothing’s Fair in Love and War - Six

Title: Nothing’s Fair in Love and War

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Daphne Scott (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 4022

Author's Note: Hello, people! Here we are with a brand new chapter. A few warnings before we begin (or after, because is basically information about somethings mentioned during this chapter and it could be interpreted as spoilers, so it's up to you): 1. I know that according to the audio of "The Ballad of Tommy Shelby" the boys enlisted in 1915, but as @andtherewerefireworks pointed out, this doesn't fit with the historical facts and informations given by the show (as a lot of other thing's don't, but apparently Steven doesn't give a fuck about it - don't let me get started) so I ignored this piece of information - the boys enlisted in 1914 instead and the world makes sense again; 2. I did some research to know more about military nurses and took a poetic license to ignore the age that was permited for women to enlist at the time; 3. Kugel really is a Jewish dish and I am shamelessly entertaining my headcanon that Alfie does, in fact, cook/bake. Sorry, not sorry. 4. Have I mentioned that sometimes I hate Steven? Because I do. There were somethings that took me a lot of time to figure out between episodes 04 and 05 of the third season and I am still not sure about somethings, so if you feel confused about something you're more than welcome to come talk to me and I can explain it.

Fair warning, as always, if you find any mistakes feel more than free to report back to me; warnings are expecific for each chapter; and your feedback is always appreciated (given the fact that this is a sideblog, answers always are in the name of my main one thanks to dumb Tumblr - @myplaceofheavenorhell). Also, if you haven't read my "BIG ANNOUNCEMENT" post (I really don't blame you), please, start following me on @amysteryspot.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Summary: Alfie and Sabini make amends and join forces to get rid of the Peaky Blinders. Daphne and Polly have a very pleasing evening and Tommy goes visit May to ensure that things are going according to his plan, only to be met with a question he doesn't want to answer.

Masterlist

Six

Alfie Solomons was never known for a man who has a lot of patience, no, people tend to think that he actually has none at all but that is far from the truth. God knows that he had to have a lot of fucking patience to get where he is now, Alfie is a man who is always waiting for the right moment to do the things that would benefit him the most. And that was what he was doing right now - waiting to see if the decision he has made would, in fact, bring him any good.

The doors of the bakery were opened by two of his men and Sabini came into view - the italian flag on his hands, three of his men behind him and his second in command, Matteo, with a white flag by his side. They approached each other, the Jew gave the Italian the basket of bread that was immediately passed over to Matteo, before he stepped closer to Alfie giving him the standard three kisses on the checks as a form of greeting.

“I can’t help but notice that there is a presence in absence here today. Isn’t Miss Scott joining us?” Alfie was kinda expecting that since the Italian seemed to have a soft spot for the young woman, but the question almost made him frown for entirely different reasons. Daphne had left hours before to go to Birmingham and meet with Polly Gray, she didn’t knew about the meeting or his plans but somehow that didn’t make Alfie worry less about her like he thought it would.

“Daphne is out in another appointment. Just us today, so let's talk, eh?” Sabini shared a look with Matteo before nodding to Alfie guide them through the bakery. The Jew sat on one side of the table with Ollie by his side, cane propped up in front of him, his hands resting on top of it, while Sabini and Matteo did the same at the other side, their men behind them and a menacing silence filling the room until the Italian leader spoke.

“Did you know they was going to take the Eden club?”

“I know about the Eden club, yes.”

“Did you know they were going to do it before they did it? Because that's the one who's in charge, isn't it? The one who knows before it happens.”

“I know what I know, you know. If you don't know, then you don't fucking know, do you?”

“Did you know they was going to take Wimbledon dogs? Harringay? The trotting tracks?”

“Talk, all right? I genuinely want to hear you.”

“You've lost control, Alfie.” Matteo was the one to talk, making Alfie look at him in concealed anger.

“Have I?”

“Everybody knows.” The Italian added.

“Talk to me, Alfie.” Sabini said, interrupting the argument and making Alfie’s attention go back to him again.

“Talk to you?” The Jew paused for emphasis. “All right, I'll talk to you. I'll fucking tell you how it was, right? What happened was this. All the time you were talking about dirty fucking Jews. All the fucking time - dirty fucking Jews, dirty Kikes, dirty dustbin lids…” The Italian leader shared a look with Matteo again.

“Everyone makes jokes.”

“You want to talk about not getting into places?”

“Everybody makes fucking jokes. I didn't know you had no sense of humour!”

“And I ain't going to FUCKING mention, right, the great big fuck off elephant in the room.” Sabini closes his eyes for a brief moment before talking again.

“Look, Alfie…”

“How many of my bookies worked Epsom this last May? None. None. Not one.”

“So, for a few fucking jokes and Epsom, you fucking invite a tribe of savages into the city and just fucking unlock the fucking gates!” While Sabini is yeeling and gesticulating frantically with his hands Alfie is just sitting there, not even bored by it.

“I'm sorry, what are you saying, mate?”

“I'm saying I'm sorry about the Jew thing.” To say that Sabini seemed bothered by his own words would be an understatement because he was completely put off by it, to Alfie’s deepest contentment.

“Are you saying you're sorry?” Patience, patience always paid back in kind.

“Yeah.”

“You're sorry about the Jew thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I want that in writing.” He turned to Ollie. Write that down. He said, ‘I'm sorry’.” Looking at Sabini again he continued. “And also write down that all our bookies can go back to Epsom.”

“He didn't say that.” Matteo barged in.

“Who's asking you?”

“No. Write it down. It's all right. Come on. Alfie's an old friend.”

“My friend.” The Jew gangster says while staring at Matteo and pointing at Sabini.

“Now, admit it, the Peaky Blinders is out of control.”

“Yeah, they're out of fucking control, mate. They come down the canal, they spread like the fucking clap.” Although the kind of problem that the Blinders have gotten to the Jew were ones fairly different, the Italian didn’t needed to know.

“Right. So now they're everybody's problem.”

“Yeah.”

“Alfie.”

“Mm.”

“You and me, we've been fighting since we was at school.”

“Yeah.”

“All right? Now, also, we've been friends.”

“Mm, yeah.”

“You know, it goes backwards and forwards. How much better is it when we're friends?”

“Oh, it's much better, mate, yeah.”

“You write that down.” Ollie looks at Alfie that just nods at the younger man.

“So what we're doing here, right, is we're writing down some kind of a deal thing, right?”

“Yeah, a written deal.”

“Written deal, good. Well, why don't we discuss the border between the Italians and the Jews going back to Farringdon Road.”

“Farringdon Road”

“Yeah, Farringdon Road.”

“Fuck! That's ancient history.”

“Write down Farringdon Road.”

“No, no, no, write down Camden Road.”

“Farringdon Road.”

“Camden Road.”

“Write down Farringdon.”

“Camden.”

“Farringdon.”

“Camden. Write down Camden Road.”

“Just write down ‘peace’. Just write down ‘peace’, right, between the Jews and the Italians.”

“And war against the gypsies.” Alfie just grumbles to the statement, thinking to himself about how Daphne will react when she discovers his plans. It certainly won’t be pretty and for the first time in a long while the Jew gangster starts to rethink his actions.

*******************************************************************************************

Daphne was waiting at the parlour in the Shelby family home on Watery Lane, the youngest Shelby was the one who guided her there saying that his aunt was coming in a minute and then leaving her alone since Josiah had chosen to wait for her outside, in the car. The young woman took off her coat and hang it on the coat rack on the wall just beside the front door, deciding to take a look around instead of sitting down.

There were a lot of photographs hanging on the walls and on top of the furniture, most of them were of the Shelby’s children growing up. Daphne recognized a young Ada and a little Finn in one of them, just beside the fireplace there was a photograph of each one of the Shelby siblings but what caught her attention almost immediately was the portrait of the three eldest Shelby boys in their uniforms. Her fingers automatically went to her locket, caressing the metal as a way to soothe her own thoughts.

“They were taken just before they left.” She must have been really distracted because she only noticed that her hostess arrived when she was already closing the door, taking off her own coat and approaching her. The gipsy woman noticed that Daphne was yet again playing with the necklace hanging from her neck. They shook hands before the both of them turned to look at the images again. “I’m sorry for making you wait, there were things that needed my attention.”

“Don’t bother, I’ve had only been here for minute.” Silence filled the room but unlike what Daphne expected it wasn’t a discomfortable one.

“It feels like it was a lifetime ago.” There was this hint of sadness that Daphne knew too well when people who had loved ones on the war usually had when talking about that period.

“And at the same time it seems like it was yesterday.” Polly looked at her then, surprise in her features.

“You’ve been there.” Daphne took a deep breath, not looking at the woman beside her when she spoke.

“Yeah. Whole four years of it.”

“My God, you must have been only a child when it started.” The young woman felt quite amused by the motherly concern in Polly’s voice.

“Eighteen.”

“You’re almost John’s age then. He was nineteen when he left. Arthur was twenty seven and Thomas twenty four.” When Daphne looked at her still observing the pictures there was a hint of a smile on her face. “They were so different, so full of life.”

“None of us came back the same. We all left a part of ourselves there.” As her hand rested in her chest, feeling the all too familiar form of her locket through the fabric Daphne thought that she certainly had lost a part of herself there, a part of her that she would never recover.

“You sound like Tommy.” Daphne smiled at that, shaking her head briefly while Polly observed her with a mixture of admiration and curiosity.

“It’s not the first time that I hear it.”

“Come, I will make us some tea.” They headed themselves to the kitchen were Daphne sat at the table while Polly walked around preparing things for the tea. When the pot was ready she served them both a cup and sat down.

“You’ve caused quite the impression on the boys.” Daphne quietly sipped on her tea. She didn’t know what to expect of the encounter, what she did knew was that Polly was baiting at her, getting her out of her comfort zone to see how she reacted and further analyze her especially now that Alfie wasn’t around. But one thing that Daphne have learned from experience was that people involuntary let their guard down at home and even knowing that Polly had another house to call her own now, this was the one she passed most part of the time in still, the one where she lived most part of the last years and the one she still called home.

“A good impression, I hope.” The gipsy woman looked at her, smirking slightly, the action a little warmer than the cold demeanor that she had showed on the party.

“Ah, it was good just alright! I think Arthur is still teasing John for trying to flirt with you.”

“He had it coming.” Polly laughed, really laughed and Daphne couldn’t help but smile too.

“He sure did, but I gotta say that he is not used at being rejected. None of them are, really.” The young woman choose not to answer that, just smiling and sipping at her tea again and Polly decided to change the subject. “You and Ada know each other for long?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while. Before Freddie fell ill.”

“You’ve met him?” Polly was surprised that the two women knew each other for that long.

“Once or twice, he was more running from the coopers than at home.” Polly scoffed at that, getting up to take the food and put it on the table. “You didn’t approved of them.” It wasn’t a question but Polly answered anyway.

“Freddie was a good man, I just wish that he knew how to prioritize his family instead of the cause.” Daphne nodded in understanding, since she befriended Ada she had had quite some debates with herself about the way the Thorne’s lived. It was hard for Daphne to understand how Ada accepted living on the run because of love, her parents were not exactly the image of true love - an arranged marriage, like the one she was supposed to have if she hadn’t gone to France - even though she believed that her mother had loved her father at some point, the other way around was definitely not true.

“I never really understood how Ada accepted living like that but I don’t have much to compare so I tried not to judge her for it.”

“No lad caught your attention after you came back?” The gipsy woman took a sip of her tea before continuing. “Or during your time in France?” Daphne had a pretty good guess that she must be talking about William since she had seen them together at the party.

“No. Not that way.” The older woman just nodded, eyes trained on the other woman’s reactions.

“Not even Solomons? He is not hard on the eyes and you two seemed quite close.” Daphne laughed at the statement - people seemed to never give up on the subject of her and Alfie being a couple.

“Alfie is family.” The way she said it, so naturally, so devoid of doubt made Polly think that their bound was deeper than she first predicted. Polly was certain that there was more to their relationship than what they let people know - Alfie Solomons wasn’t a man known for his honesty or loyalty, nevertheless, the woman in front of her had been by his side since the end of the war.

It was obvious to her too that the man who was observing her and Tommy from the mezzanine during the party felt more than just friendship towards her but it seemed that Daphne didn’t reciprocate it - which, apparently, left the way clear for Tommy and that’s where the lived the danger. Then she decided to make a bold move.

“Let me read your leaves.” Daphne was quite taken aback by the request, she blinked twice before answering the gipsy woman.

“Why not.” Polly was surprised that she accepted the request so easily - maybe more surprised by that than by the fact that she had requested to read the girl’s leaves in the first place.

“Pour some tea into the cup and swirl it.” The young woman did what she was told. “Now put the tea back into the teapot.” Polly extended her hand for Daphne to give her the cup, after taking it she gave one last glance towards the young woman before starting to analyze the cup.

“There’s happiness in your future but there is also a lot of pain.” Silence filled the room while the older woman swirled the teacup in her hands. “You will be betrayed and have your heart broken. You will also find something that you thought was lost.” Polly rested the cup into the table and looked up to meet Daphne’s hazel eyes in silence for a long time before she finally spoke again. “You seem like a good girl, Daphne, and if I didn’t thought that I wouldn’t say to you what I’m gonna say now: be careful. Love is a good thing but sometimes it can blind us and that’s when we get hurt.”

*******************************************************************************************

When Tommy arrived home at the end of the day one of the first things that he noticed was the teacup resting on the kitchen table. He picked it up, looking at the leaves inside it and directing his gaze to his aunt who was observing him, sipping her own cup of tea while leaning onto the kitchen counter.

“Lizzie’s been here for you to read her leaves again, Poll? You still leading her own…”

“It wasn’t Lizzie.” He recognized the smug look on his aunt’s face - she was leading him to something, the teacup left onto the table was a bait for him to talk to her, it was all part of her plan. He put the cup back where he found it and turned around to pour himself a drink.

“Then who was the poor soul that was believing in your predictions?”

“Daphne. She left just some minutes ago.” He stopped for a brief moment but it was enough for Polly to notice. Daphne had been here? How he didn’t know that?

“Didn’t think that she would be one for these kind of stuff.” He turned around, glass of whisky in his hand and her aunt’s gaze still on him and his curiosity got the best of him. “What did you find out?” By the smile on his aunt’s face he knew that this is what she wanted all along.

“That she is a good girl - too good for you.” Tommy huffed at the statement taking a sip of his drink - he didn’t need any tea leaves to know that. “She will have her heart broken by the man that she loves.” Polly walked to her nephew, stopping right in front of him and holding his gaze. “Will you be that man, Tommy?” He just stood there nursing his drink, long before the woman had left. He had vowed to himself to never let another woman into his heart again, not after Grace, but it was difficult to remember that when he was around Daphne. She was constantly proving him wrong, challenging him, sneaking into his family’s good graces. Would he be the one to break her heart or would it be the other way around?

*******************************************************************************************

Alfie was waiting for her when she arrived home - sitting on his usual chair in the balcony of the drawing room, humming something to himself. Daphne approached him and called his name but he didn’t seemed to notice, to lost on his thoughts.

“Everything alright?” He looked at her then, his attention caught by the hand she gently placed on his shoulder, the woman could tell that he seemed a little off just by the expression on his face.

“Yeah, yeah.” The Jew got up from his chair to stand in front of her. “How was tea with the gypsies?”

“It was just Polly. Everything went fine, she is actually very hospitable.”

“Hum. Good.” He didn’t seemed less tense after her answer. “I’ve made you some kugel for dessert, I know it is your favorite.” Daphne frowned at that.

“There is some special occasion that I’m forgetting? You haven’t cooked in ages.” He stared at her in silence for a long moment before answering.

“No, just appreciating the company, love.”

“Well, thank you, kind sir. I’m just going to take a bath and we can have dinner then.” Alfie nodded at her, letting her go upstairs while he just observed as she disappeared. He really hoped that at least for one time in his life he was doing the right thing.

*******************************************************************************************

As Tommy drove to the Carleton’s property he thought about his next steps. May had showed her interest in him and he was going to play his cards to ensure that his horse would be able to run the Epsom. She had also mentioned having contacts at the War Office and that could grant them information on Daphne. He just wasn’t expecting the extent of the Carleton’s wealthiness.

“Mr. Thomas Shelby, madam.” One of the maids announced him and Tommy entered the room without a second glance at the girl.

“Nice house.” He says as he looks around and approaches May, who is looking at him a little unsure. It was more than nice house, probably the most expensive fucking place he had put his foot on during his entire life.

“Would you like a whisky? Scotch or Irish?”

“Irish.” She turns her back to him to serve the drink and he takes the time to look out the window, taking a cigarette from his case. “Sorry for the short notice. I was passing.”

“We're not quite on the Birmingham road.”

“It was a small diversion.”

“Sixty miles, I checked.”

“That's a small diversion these days.” He says, approaching her and lightening the cigarette that is already between his lips.

“So, I'm a small diversion. Good.” She hands him the whiskey before taking a sip of hers. “Your horse is still out on the gallops, but I had Mickey prepare this report. You can read it now if you'd like, then we can go see her.” May hands him the file with the reports and he rests it on the table, starting to scan the pages as he clears his throat. “Is there enough light for you to read?”

“Yes, it's fine.”

“It's getting quite late.” She sits down on the couch, Tommy doesn’t react to her words and continues to read the report but he notices that she is nervous. “Mickey says she has the lungs of an elephant. She's nimble in the heavy going, but bounces a little on the hard ground. Sorry, I'll let you read.”

“So, he thinks she'll favor good to soft ground, eh?” Tommy closes the file while talking.

“A little juice in the grass.”

“Mm. Well, that's good for Epsom.” He pauses, looking at her and placing his empty glass on the table. “Does he think she's not good enough for Epsom?”

“She needs a lot of work.” May observes as he takes a drag from the cigarette. “The race board will need convincing.”

“I imagine you have some influence.” She doesn’t answer him directly.

“Mm. That's the suggested program for the next two months.” As Tommy goes back to looking at the report, May gets up from her seat. “Your glass is empty.”

“It's fine.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes, a bit.”

“I can prepare something.”

“Do you have engine oil?” There’s a hint of surprise in her features as she looks at him. “Before I set off for Birmingham, the car needs oil.”

“I'm sure my husband kept some in the garage. I can get someone to do it.”

“This evening or tomorrow?” They stare at each other for a moment, he waits for her next step.

“Well, we're so far from anywhere, people usually stay over.” She is clearly nervous as she takes a set at the couch again, sipping her whisky. “Especially before cars, when it was just carriages, people used to stay over all the time.”

“But I have a car.”

“Yes.”

“And you have engine oil.”

“Probably.” Her words are all but a whisper before she pauses, nervously looking at the other way. “But it would be very usual.”

“What would?” His eyebrows raising as he waits for the answer, making her admit it out loud.

“For a guest to stay. We have a whole wing called the guest wing.”

“Oh, you…” He almost smirked at the information. “You have a guest wing. Well...” Then Tommy notices that she is crying, silently, trying to hide her tears by facing the opposite wall. He walks to her, calling her name softly and resting a hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her. Thomas never liked when woman cried, most part of the time it put him off because he didn’t exactly know how to react and, in this particularly scenario, it wasn’t something that he had predicted. “Have a smoke.”

“Thank you.” She accepts the cigarette from his hands and observes as he takes a step back to light another, taking a sit at the other end of the couch. “Ignore this. It's actually all right. I put all his photos in a drawer and locked it, as if that was going to make a difference. I'm like a fucking lighthouse keeper, out here on my own, keeping his flame burning. But, of course, when anyone sees a lighthouse they stay clear, don't they?” May observes as he seems to take a moment to think.

“Now, do you have a map? Of the house. Do you have a map? Because I'm not going to be able to find my way in the dark. You see, at midnight, I'm going to leave my wing and I'm going to come find you. And I'm going to turn the handle of your bedroom door without making a sound and none of the maids will know.”

“You don't know maids.” She scoffed at him.

“They hear a pin drop?”

“If there's a man in the house, they listen. They take turns.”

“So, let them listen.” Things were going according to his plan but Tommy couldn’t help remembering his aunt’s words that would keep echoing inside his head for the whole night.

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