Chapter One
"No bloody brain cells"

Arabella banged her fist hard against the door.

When there was no answer, she huffed impatiently, stepping back to peer through the windows, only to be met with the darkness of drawn curtains.

"Bastards," she muttered under her breath, moving away. She glanced behind her briefly, noticing she'd gained a few spectators.

It was not uncommon for the people of Watery Lane to see the youngest Newell sibling banging on the Shelby's front door – morning, afternoon, or evening, if she had a bone to pick with them, she'd be there. And when Arabella was furiously set on making a point, god help anybody who stood in her way.

Ignoring the nosy watchers along the black cobbled streets, Arabella continued to rap her fist loudly against the door, and eventually, after god knows how long, it swung open.

Her closed fist hovered mid air, dangerously close to a startled John Shelby's face.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, glancing over her. "You trying to knock the bloody door down or somethin'?"

"Where's my brother?" Arabella questioned firmly. She was not taking a single ounce of shit today, and that slightly terrified John, especially since he was in the firing line.

He shifted his weight uncomfortably, avoiding her angry eyes. "Look, we had a run in with–"

"Fucking hell," Arabella interjected, running a hand through her already rather dishevelled hair. Her pulse had begun to quicken at the thought of her brother badly injured, yet again, after getting caught up in some of the Shelby's stupid 'business'. "Where is he then?"

John hesitated for a moment. "Bells–"

"Don't you 'Bells' me, John Shelby," she snapped, causing him to shrink back slightly. "Now tell me where my idiot of a brother is or I swear to God–"

"John," a lower, raspier, voice spoke up from the shadows. Arabella glanced up, already recognising the voice that belonged to the eldest Shelby brother, Arthur. "Let the poor girl inside already."

John just about stepped aside as Arabella barged her way through the door, storming down the hall and into the only room that seemed to be bathed in any sort of light. Instantly, she was engulfed by the strong stench of tobacco and whiskey, reminding her that she was all too familiar with this house.

Arabella halted by the doorframe, eyes falling on her older brother slumped in a chair, face bloodied and bruised. He was wearing his typical attire - a waistcoat, jacket and trousers to match, white shirt (now stained with spots of blood), and a black tie. It was only his peaked cap that was missing.

Polly Gray stood by him, a wet, bloodstained cloth in her hand, and Tommy remained hidden in the corner of the room, a cigarette in his mouth, as always.

"What the bloody hell happened?" Arabella demanded, catching the attention of everyone in the room. Her question was directed mostly at Tommy, though, he barely even flinched at her sharp tone. Whether he'd become used to the younger girl's seemingly constant hostility towards him, or whether he was just numb to most feelings completely by this point, Arabella would never know, but his lack of reaction only aggravated her even further.

"He's okay," Polly interjected quickly, attempting to reassure the girl, but Arabella was already crossing the room, finger pointed accusingly at Tommy.

"How many more hits is he going to have to take for you?" She snapped. Tommy lowered his gaze to her green eyes, taking a puff of his cigarette. In a flash, Arabella had snatched it out of his hand and thrown it to the ground, stomping on it with her black boots. "Seriously, Tommy, how many more times do I have to come and collect him from here, from the hospital, from the fucking streets, before he ends up in the bloody morgue?!"

An achingly heavy silence fell around the room as Tommy's jaw tensed, but the man remained calm, opting to place a hand on Arabella's shoulder, though she knocked it away without a second's thought.

"Bella," Mason Newell mumbled hoarsely, his voice strained. Arabella was going to push Tommy's buttons today, and he was worried his boss was going to lose patience with her. "Leave it."

Arabella held her stare for a moment longer, narrowing her eyes at Tommy, showing no signs of backing down. She then turned away, her attention falling solely on her brother, missing the fleeting moment where the corner of Tommy's lips tugged slightly. Her determination never failed to impress him.

With a heavy sigh, Arabella made her way over to Mason, heart breaking at the all-too-familiar sight. There was a deep cut by his left eyebrow, and a large purple bruise already beginning to show on his cheekbone. Dried crusts of blood clustered underneath his nose, and when she took his hand in hers, she noticed the skin on his knuckles had split.

She didn't even dare speculate what might have happened. In fact, she didn't care at the moment, as long as he was okay, that was all that mattered to her.

"This can't keep happening, Mase," she said softly, moving her other hand to his chin, slowly lifting his head. "Are you listening to me?"

"The war is over now," Tommy told her.

"Yeah, until the next one," Arabella retorted bitterly, barely sparing a glance at him.

"I know you worry about him," Tommy continued, eyes shifting between the two siblings. "But he knows what he's doing. He can take care of himself."

Arabella's jaw clenched, and she shook her head, turning to face the man that the residents of Small Heath all seemed to fear. "Every single day, Tommy," she begun, taking a step closer to him. "Every single fucking day I say goodbye to him in the morning, and I wonder whether it's going to be the last time that I–" she cut off, her voice catching in the back of her throat. "He's all I've got," she lowered her voice, locking eyes with him. "You know that."

Mason's gaze shifted from his sister to the floor, as an overriding feeling of guilt began to consume him. He hated that he worried his sister so much, that he continued to hurt her like this, but it was his job, it was what he did.

"It's over now," Mason spoke up. "We fought, and we won. It's over, Bells."

Arabella swallowed thickly, unable to believe him. She'd heard those exact words too many times, from him, from Tommy, from John. It was never over. Never.

"Why don't you come and sit down," Polly encouraged, attempting to diffuse the tension in the room. She'd had enough on her plate lately, and would rather not have to deal with things kicking off anytime soon.

Arabella remained still for a moment, but eventually complied, making sure to shoot both Tommy and her brother a hard, lasting look before she followed Polly into the kitchen.

The Shelbys were going to be the Newell siblings' downfall, and Arabella was starting to think that there was no avoiding it.

"Here," Polly said as she pulled out a chair for the younger girl, beside a dishevelled looking Arthur, who nursed a glass of whiskey in his hands.

Arabella sighed heavily, sitting down. She placed her head in her hands, rubbing her exhausted eyes, only to have somebody slightly roughly slap a hand on the back of her shoulder – a half-arsed attempt of comfort.

"Could've been a lot worse," John then said as he took the other empty chair at the table.

"John," Polly hissed, smacking her nephew lightly on the back of the head for his uncomforting words.

"Ow! What the bloody hell was that for?!"

"Having no bloody brain cells," Polly shot back. "Look," she started, turning to face Arabella. She was well aware of the young girl's concerns, and knew that none of her nephews had eased them today. "If your father didn't think Mason could handle himself, he wouldn't have let him get into this business," she reminded. "He'll be okay."

Arabella was still unconvinced.

In the main room, Tommy handed Mason a cigarette. "You tell her about Peter Morrow?"

Mason shook his head. "Not yet," he replied. Tommy passed him a lighter. "Dunno how to tell her, 'specially after how she reacted today."

"We'll get more men protecting the house," Tommy assured him. "Once I've taken care of business, we'll make a plan."

"All right," Mason nodded, placing his full trust in Tommy to get things done. Peter Morrow was a problem Mason had been trying to shake for a long time now, thanks to his father. He just hoped to god he wouldn't have to tell Arabella about it. Whether keeping her in the dark about the vendetta declared on the family name was putting her in more danger, he didn't know, but it felt like the right thing to do.

"Sorry 'bout her, by the way," Mason added, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen. "Thinks she's got a bloody right coming round here like that." Tommy turned away, remaining quiet for a long moment to think some things through. Mason exhaled a puff off smoke, taking Tommy's silence as a bad sign. "I'll give her a talkin' to, Tom."

"She any good at maths?" Tommy asked.

Mason frowned at his question, but didn't comment. "Was the top of her class," he replied. "Smart brain and a smart mouth."

Tommy slowly turned back around to face him. "She lookin' for another job?"

Mason shook his head. "She's already workin' two at the moment. Got a bit of money trouble, you see. 'S why she's so bloody angry all the time. Gets no bloody sleep," he explained, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Keep telling her it's not good for her. Won't listen to no one though, that girl."

In the kitchen, Polly set a mug of tea down in front of Arabella, who smiled gratefully. "Here."

"Pol, pass that bottle will ya?" Arthur asked, nodding his head in the direction of a whiskey bottle situated on the kitchen counter.

Polly begrudgingly took the bottle and placed it on the table with a thud. She glanced between her two nephews. "Haven't you two got better things to be doing?"

John and Arthur both lifted their heads to look up at her, but before either of them could respond, Tommy had stepped inside, with Mason hobbling uncomfortably behind him.

Arabella instinctively rose from her seat, the chair legs scraping loudly across the floor as she stood.

"I'm fine," Mason assured, before his sister could even utter a word. "We should go, Bells."

"Yeah, okay," Arabella agreed. "Thanks for the tea," she smiled politely at Polly, eyes then hardening as they landed on Tommy. "He needs to rest," she spoke firmly, shifting her gaze to her brother, and then back to Tommy again. "You'll leave him be."

Tommy looked up from lighting a cigarette and met Arabella's eyes. He said nothing, but nodded his head.

"See you later, mate," Mason said, clasping John on the shoulder as he moved past his friend.

The Newell siblings left promptly, and the Shelby's remained in silence for a few moments, until Arthur loudly set his empty glass down on the table.

"Girl's got a bloody death wish," John then commented, glancing up at Tommy, who did not respond.

"She's got balls, I'll give her that," Arthur added, reaching for the whiskey bottle again.

"Barging in here and having a go," John continued, lazily slumping back in his seat. "Got no fear whatsoever, that girl."

"Should she have?" Polly challenged. The woman quite liked Arabella, even if she rather was stubborn. Mostly because she did not fear her nephews, unlike most people, but also because she stood up for herself and the people she loved. With Ada in London, not many of the women in the family were around to put the Shelby boys in their place anyone, and Polly was mostly happy to let Arabella fill that spot.

In fact, the entire Shelby family did like the Newell siblings, all having known at least one of their parents, no matter how briefly, before they passed on. John and Mason had remained close friends before, during and after the war, and Mason had now become a useful asset to the Peaky Blinders, even if his sister was overly protective of him.

John Shelby, undoubtedly, was rather intimidated by Arabella, and often wondered how such a timid child became such a force. Nonetheless, her daring to stand up to Tommy was always an amusing sight to see. If the Shelbys hadn't been so close to the Newell family all these years, he couldn't ever imagine Tommy allowing it. He was sure Arabella knew that too, which made him like the girl even more for always seeing her opportunity and taking it.

Tommy, though not intimidated by Arabella, was always impressed by her ability to stand her ground, especially against him. He was certain that she had a strong business mind, just like her father, and would definitely make a good businesswoman one day, if she ever allowed it to happen.

Whilst John shrugged in response to Polly's question, Arthur downed his drink in one. "No bloody fear," the eldest Shelby repeated.

Arthur had not known the Newell family as closely as his brothers did, but agreed Mason had been a good asset to the Peaky Blinders, and had become a good friend. Though, he found Arabella's protectiveness over her brother, and constant hostility towards Tommy, mostly very tedious. Admittedly, however, it could be entertaining at times. And, truthfully, he couldn't help but quite admire her strong-minded attitude, especially for somebody so young.

"No," Polly agreed with a half-smile. "She's not afraid," she glanced over at her nephew, who was deep in thought. "And I think Thomas quite likes her for it."

All eyes fell on Tommy Shelby, whose expression gave nothing away. But Polly had read him right – he'd decided it was about time he conjured up a business proposition for Arabella Newell.

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette, eyes shifting away from his family. "I've got business to do."

A/N

I am trash for peaky blinders and am also getting super impatient for season 5, so this is filling the void right now.

This story will mostly follow the plot and timeline of the show, starting from season 2, and will be focused on Arabella and her story. This means that her relationship with Michael is gonna be a slow burner (warning you now), as I want to take time to develop her character, storyline and relationships. As this chapter kinda jumps into the middle of the action, things will slowly be revealed about Arabella, Mason, their parents, and also Peter Morrow, as time goes on. I hope it's not too confusing.

I've never written a peaky blinders fic before so I have absolutely no idea how this is gonna go, or what I'm doing, but I'm hoping for the best 👌🏼

Thanks for reading!
– Molly