THE JOURNEY BACK TO BIRMINGHAM SEEMED LONGER THAN ETERNITY. Probably because Delilah was exhausted from the sleep she'd been cruelly missing, or maybe because she couldn't shake the crazy feeling that she had missed something somewhere. It couldn't be that simple, nothing had ever been, and it wouldn't start now just because Thomas was injured and her heart was crying out for a presence she couldn't identify. God wasn't by their side, nowhere in sight, certainly not trying to save them.

Thomas's face had slowly but surely healed from the many wounds it had suffered from. Only a few cuts were remaining here and there, slowly turning a brighter pink and blending in the paleness of his cheeks. When they set foot in Birmingham, his eyes were shining again with determination under Charlie's careful gaze. He was ready to conquer the world with the most beautiful woman by his side and his family behind him.

Everything had gone according to plan in London, but it was another story in Small Heath. Right behind Charlie's fence, waiting by the harbour stood Milo and Angelo, with cigarettes hanging from their mouths and arms crossed behind their backs. They truly looked like movie stars' bodyguards, their deep orbs never leaving Delilah's face. Even from the distance, she could tell something was wrong, and her face quickly morphed into her usual business cold stare.

Thomas stopped in front of the two men, raising a confused dark eyebrow at their presence while Delilah hugged her brother and squeezed Milo's hand affectionately. She barely had time to retrieve her spot beside the Gypsy before her sibling glanced at her best friend and they nodded at each other.

"Qualcosa non va," Milo spoke first, exhaling white smoke when he parted his lips. "New information came in this morning, and it's no good for you."

"Che succede?" Delilah asked, not losing a second to glance at her business partner.

Angelo inhaled deeply, spotting Charlie standing right on the other side of the fence, eavesdropping on their conversation. The older man caught his stare and laid his eyes on him, his eyelids never fluttering and his lips remaining in a thin line. He was trustworthy, Angelo knew that — anyone Delilah didn't disregard could be trusted, especially Charlie and Curly.

"Sabini has an informant in Solomons' bakery," Milo announced, his tone careless and his eyes glued to his friend's face. "Apparently, coppers helped him identify Thomas with pictures or something like that. They're coming after you two."

Delilah frowned and shared a glance with Thomas. That day wasn't the day they could waste planning revenge; it was Polly's birthday, they were expected at the betting shop to join the little reception organized for the older woman and accompany her to her birthday present, a mansion Thomas had invested his money in. A wonderful and open-spaced house for a deserving woman.

"We can't deal with this today, Tom," Delilah stated with a worried frown on her lips.

"We will have to take some time, I'm afraid," Thomas responded while sliding his large hands in his pockets. "But you're right, not now. Now is Polly's moment, we will deal with this tonight."

Delilah nodded and sighed, running her trembling hands through her red curls. She couldn't believe something like that had escaped her mind, there was no way they wouldn't pay for that peace they'd made with Alfie. Though she technically was never at war with the Jewish man, Thomas surely had never been a big fan of him since they planned London. Everything could crumble any day now, everything they'd spent time building with their bare hands and gigantic ambitions could collapse.

The redhead found comfort in Angelo's warmth by her side whilst they walked to the betting shop, the four of them side by side and silent company to each other. Delilah's thoughts were monopolized by the machinery of her quick mind, already figuring out how to escape the deadly end of their businesses. They stepped into the betting shop together, Delilah absentmindedly hugging back the few people that wrapped their arms around her, barely answering their questions or addressing their presences.

Thomas felt concern boiling through his pumping veins as his eyes found her tiny body curled up against the farthest wall of the betting shop backroom, startled by Arthur's booming voice right into her ear. She managed a smile when the older man swung one arm over her shoulders, her index finger tracing patterns on the back of her left hand and leaving reddening marks there.

He wanted to reach out to her, whisper in her ear that they would be fine, they still had time to figure something out with their people's help, hold her hand and run his fingers on her freckled cheek; but he didn't have time. Applause echoed through the betting shop, his cue to exit the backroom with his brothers and the DeLuca siblings, their hands clapping as well. Delilah's fake smile widened on her lips when her eyes met Polly's, and Thomas's stomach dreaded with anxiety at her mental state.

When the dark-haired woman spotted her nephew and his redheaded friend, safe and sound — though his face was slightly scarred —, Polly's dark eyes widened and her lips parted surprisingly. No doubt, she hadn't known about the pair's return in Birmingham, and the redhead felt slightly surprised that neither her brother nor Milo slipped up.

"When did you get back?" Polly asked as Thomas wrapped an arm around her shoulders, cigarette hanging at the edge of his lips.

"I didn't want to miss your birthday, Pol," he stated, the corner of his lips curving upwards as he spun her on her heels to face the DeLuca siblings, still smiling at the older woman.

Delilah placed her hand on Polly's shoulder and the woman didn't waste a second before hugging her tightly, her face buried in red curls and her nose overwhelmed by the scent of peaches, blinded by her fiery hair and warmed up by her gentle embrace. The older woman had missed everything about Delilah, from her presence to her calming stare. She could tell something was off with her, but she was here, standing in the middle of the room safe and sound, surrounded by her loved ones to celebrate her friend's birthday with a smile on her face.

"How are you?" Polly whispered in her ear, secretly.

"I'm fine," Delilah responded in a whisper, trying her best to hide the trembling of her voice. "Yeah, I'm doing alright, exhausted is all."

She was lying. Polly could tell, and she could also tell Delilah hadn't tried really hard to hide her mental state. Since Tommy had been beaten up by Sabini's men, since that dreadful night they'd all spent waiting for something good, something had changed in her heart. Maybe it was the fear of losing one of them in her enemy's hands, maybe it was the sadness of seeing her brother on the verge of breaking every day since the night at the bridge, or maybe it simply was her shattered soul finally breaking through her tough surface to show itself in the light. All this time, the redhead had remained that strong woman everyone could rely on, however, everyone might reach a breaking point. Perhaps Delilah was getting closer to hers without anyone knowing.

Thomas dragged her away from the younger woman too soon, talking to her about unwrapping a birthday present. Arthur clasped his hand around Delilah's frail forearm, guiding her to the exit of the betting shop and to an awaiting car. Milo was already behind the steering wheel, patiently staring at the double doors until his friends finally came to him. The engine was running and the dark-haired Italian seemed more than happy to be driving one of the Shelby's fancy Bentleys. After multiple arguments, Delilah had convinced Tommy to at least buy one of those cars so they could brag about sharing the same taste. He would never admit it, but the main reason why he bought the car in the first place was Delilah's excitement towards the investment and the fact that they would have something else in common.

Polly turned her head in the DeLuca's direction, her brows furrowed worriedly. Delilah happened to lift her gaze from the pavement when Arthur detached himself from her, following after his family to a Fiat parked on the sidewalk, and a smile slowly parted her lips.

"We'll be right behind you, Pol!" she exclaimed, catching Tommy's attention as he stopped walking and turned around to stare at her instead. "We'll be right behind."

Polly nodded and followed her overexcited nephews to the car. As Delilah slid in the back seat, her hand quickly tying her hair in a free-band bun at the base of her neck, Thomas's cerulean orbs followed her movements carefully before he started the engine of his Fiat and drove away from the betting shop.

Their cars travelled through Birmingham to a fancy neighbourhood, with gigantic houses and proper gardens. Delilah had stayed silent during their journey, simply listening to the boys' incessant chatter. They had tried to bring her to talk about what had happened in London, but she curtly answered that they'd met Alfie Solomons and visited the DeLuca family. Keeping the details to herself, she had changed the subject fastly and had kept her mouth shut while Milo drove behind the Fiat.

Thomas parked along the sidewalk in front of a brick-build house. The wooden front door was enormous compared to the one in their house in Small Heath, with white curtains concealing the inside of the house from the windows. The boys exited the car as soon as it was parked, joining the Shelbys at the porch. Delilah, however, took a long moment admiring the outside of the house. The bricks were in a deep shade of red, with one storey.

Thomas whistled for her to join them when the front door was unlocked and Polly inside the house. The redhead walked through the driveway and climbed the three marches on the porch, letting the man place his hand delicately on the small of her back to push her inside.

He took off his peaky hat as he stepped inside, the four Shelby boys following their aunt through the hallway to the living room. It was an open space with large windows on the walls, wooden tables and plush couches. Paintings decorated the walls and the boys were leaning against various wooden pieces of furniture. Delilah stood awkwardly beside Thomas, who was staring at Polly.

"You said you were going to buy Ada a house," Polly said as she examined every corner of the living room carefully.

"Yep, that's right," Thomas responded as he slid his hands in his pockets. "I did. Just had a little bit of cash left."

Polly walked further through the living room and stopped in the middle of the room, her dark hair perfectly falling on her back.

"This is ours?" she asked, her eyes rising to the ceiling.

"No, Polly," Thomas answered, a smile slowly forming on John's and Arthur's lips. "This is yours. 'Cause you deserve it."

Polly's eyes widened and she paced around, glancing at every corner and every smiling face. Even Delilah's features were lit up by that genuine grin of hers, happy to see the older woman finally getting something she deserved. For all her hard work.

"What would I do with all these rooms?" Polly inquired, making Delilah chuckle and bringing a smile to Thomas's lips.

"Well," he started, shrugging his shoulders, "you could relax for one. It has a garden, eh?"

Thomas moved to the window with his arms crossed behind his back, glancing outside before spinning back to face his family. He glanced at Delilah, who was staring back at him proudly. When he'd first mentioned the idea of a house as Polly's birthday present, the redhead had asked to help pick it. It had been decided that Delilah was a woman, therefore was more inclined to understand Polly's taste and she'd chosen that house. She was more than happy Polly seemed to like it, and Thomas could sense the delight radiating from her body.

"It has a garden, eh? You love gardens," Thomas carried on, placing his hands on his hips. "You can grow roses, Pol. I don't know, have a piano. Have some people around, they can have a singsong, eh?"

"God help the bloody neighbours," John snickered, light blue eyes shining with excitement.

"Fuck the neighbours," Arthur retorted and Delilah hummed in agreement. He took a key out of his coat and outstretched it towards his aunt, who grabbed the key and stared at it for a long second. "Welcome home, Pol."

Polly sat down on a couch, under everyone's joyful gaze, her eyes glancing everywhere. Clearly lost in what was happening to her, regardless of how positive it was, Polly placed the silvery key on the polished wooden table in front of her, her hand a fist around the small object. Thomas cleared his throat, catching the others' attention.

"Arthur, why don't you take everyone outside, wait by the car?" he demanded.

Arthur nodded and motioned for everyone to leave the room. Delilah was the last one to leave, squeezing Polly's shoulder affectionately and murmuring something Thomas didn't catch in her ear. Polly's shocked expression morphed into one of contemplation for a second before she was back to her surprised face. Delilah gracefully moved towards the front door that Arthur was still holding open for her. Thomas waited until he heard the door being securely closed behind his family to move towards the window again, lighting up a cigarette.

"Pol," he started, clearing his throat and striking the match, "I know you haven't been happy for a while, and I know why."

Before he carried on, he gave his lit cigarette to his aunt and grabbed a chair from the dining table, placing it so that he could stare at Polly. He sat down and crossed his hands on the table.

"Esme is all right, you know?" he continued, narrowing his eyes. "She's got a good heart. I have spoken to her, and she told me."

As he lit up another cigarette for himself, Polly's dark orbs moved from his face to the smoke flying from her own cancer stick, desperately trying to avoid this conversation. She didn't want to talk about this, she didn't want him to know.

"Told you what?"

Thomas's eyes never left the woman's face, however. With the light entering through the curtained windows, his cerulean pupils seemed even clearer, and the smoke escaping his luscious lips did nothing to cloud his intense stare.

"She told me what it is that would make you happy," he explained, waiting a second before speaking again. "I've spoken to our contacts in the police. They have contacts in the council, and they have contacts with the people who keep the parish records. Records of adoption, and of confidential forced removals."

Polly's eyes turned glassy and she looked away from her nephew's face. The cigarette between her fingers was slowly consuming itself without her taking any drag, too caught up in her sadness to even think about smoking.

"Now, with your permission, I'd like to grease a few palms and take a look at the records they never showed you," Thomas announced, and Polly straightened up and stared at him. "Pol, I am going to find your son and daughter and I'm gonna bring them home. That's what this house is for. So that you can bring your family home where they belong."

Tears sprinkled in Polly's eyes. She leaned forward and engulfed Tommy's large hand in her trembling palm, squeezing it in gratitude. She was left speechless, knowing Thomas certainly hadn't figured out all this plan alone, and she could easily imagine a tiny redhead taking part in her children's homecoming.

"We're moving up, Pol," he assured as she let go of his hand and settled back on the couch, a tear leaking from the corner of her eye.

She would have to find Delilah soon, in case her gratitude might be encountered by something unnerving coming from the redhead. She didn't want to miss the opportunity to thank her, regardless of what she would do in the future.

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ 

Delilah didn't hear from Thomas Shelby until the clock struck midnight. The minute hand had barely reached the twelfth mark when three knocks echoed through her home. She stood up from the plush couch she had been sitting on, running her hand on her silky robe to unfold it, and walked to the front door. It wasn't raining when she opened it, and it wasn't even that cold outside; a surprise considering it had rained in Birmingham all week, according to her brother.

Thomas stepped into her house, hanging his peaky hat on the coat rack and leaving his black jacket on the couch. He was only allowed to do that whenever it didn't rain, or when he hadn't bloodied his clothes during business. The habit had taken over him though, and most of the time Delilah needed to snap at him for soaking their couch.

"Right on time," the redhead commented as she moved to the kitchen, opening a cupboard and taking out two glasses. "Whiskey?"

Thomas hummed in response and she poured them a generous amount of liquor. Sitting down at the table, Thomas stared at her while she served them. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, straight strands falling in the middle of her back. Her pink silky robe was clinging to the right places of her body, sometimes sliding from her shoulders and forcing her to adjust it so it wouldn't uncover any intimate part of her tiny body.

"Thank you," he spoke when she placed a full glass in front of him. His eyes didn't leave her face until she was settled on the wooden chair across from him, one leg underneath the other which made her taller than she was. "Is Angelo asleep?"

"Oh no," Delilah responded with a chuckle, her manicured hand wrapped around her own glass of whiskey. "He and Milo wanted a night out, so I just let them go. I'll have a discussion with him in the morning, to see how he's doing. We've been gone for a week, I want to know how he lived without me here."

Thomas nodded, sipping on the liquor silently. He had so many things to tell her when he stopped by the door, but now he found himself unable to say a word. It seemed like she felt the same way as she brought the glass to her lips before turning around to grab her cigarette box. He wanted to tell her about Polly's children and that he wanted her with him when he'd find them, he wanted to tell her how much Polly liked the house, he wanted to talk about everything but business. Just a normal conversation that wouldn't include their lives being endangered.

Delilah placed her cigarette between her lips and stroke a match, the golden flame dancing in her green orbs. Thomas wondered how many shadows were hiding behind these pretty eyes, and whether or not the flame could slightly expose them.

"Polly liked the house," he blurted out, fearing the lingering silence would eventually eat him alive.

"I told you she would," Delilah snickered, a playful grin parting her lips. "I wonder if Ada likes hers, though. She's a bit harder to please."

"Well if she doesn't, that's on you," Thomas stated, the right corner of his plump mouth slowly curling upwards.

Delilah laughed at his comment. She remembered the day they'd gone to visit the houses very clearly. Firstly, they'd chosen Ada's, in London, in one of Delilah's favourite — and most secure — neighbourhoods. Both Thomas and Delilah had paid a visit to her men to assure his sister's safety. The redheaded and her business associate had then returned to Birmingham to visit a few houses for Polly. She had fallen in love with the red-bricked house and had begged Thomas to buy it, promising Polly would love it as well. She hadn't been wrong.

"You used me to do your dirty work," Delilah joked, taking a drag of her cigarette. "I'm happy she likes it."

They fell into silence again. Delilah crushed her cigarette in the nearest ashtray, grabbing it and placing it in the centre of the table. Thomas then extended his hand and caught a cigarette from her box, swiftly lighting it up and taking his first drag. His eyes met Delilah's, focused on his features, and a staring contest soon began between them. Truly, he just couldn't take his eyes off her, with her charming smile and those delicate hands hanging in the air.

"I've been thinking about the informant situation," she started, cutting Thomas from speaking about Polly's children. "It could be a trap from Solomons."

"Why would he trap you?" Thomas asked, his hand wrapping around his glass to bring it to his lips.

"He wouldn't be under my constant surveillance if I'm not under contract anymore," the redhead explained, her hands moving when she talked. "Moreover, if I die at Sabini's hands, my parents will never suspect him, they'll believe Sabini was alone in this. If the information, miraculously, doesn't come out, it will be a win on Solomons' side."

"But there is no way your parents wouldn't know about that," Thomas interjected, raising his hand in the air to stop her. "There is also no way Solomons would set a trap with Sabini if you're his only way out of a war he cannot win, right?"

Delilah pursed her lips, her red nails tapping against the wood of the dining table. She pushed her ponytail behind her right shoulder and nodded. Thomas almost could see the machinery of her brain working in those pretty eyes of hers, the ropes moving behind her troubled eyes.

"You're right," the redhead finally said, her ego untouched by the statement, unlike before when her pride would overtake her reason. "My best guess is that Solomons is unaware of the informant. If that's the case, then we have to expect a strike any time soon. Sabini won't lose too much time thinking this through, he just wants to hurt us. To kill us, probably. We'll have to remain on guard from now on, each one of us."

"I agree," he responded, leaning back in his chair, cigarette still hanging between his fingers.

"Good."

Silence settled once again. It was hard to talk now, Thomas had to be the one initiating the conversation again, and despite his desire to bring her along to find Polly's son, he wanted to talk to her about the Grand Reopening. Funnily enough, for an information dealer, Delilah could remain clueless about things when everyone was hiding from her. It had been a mutual agreement to hide the Garrison's reopening from her, considering she might be the most surprised of them all. Always busy with business, she barely acknowledged the fact that the Garrison would never reopen if they didn't start working on it.

Apparently, her mind was flawed and she wasn't impossible to fool when they were multiple individuals trying. Her brother and Milo had been the hardest to convince, but had caved in when Thomas mentioned the joyful surprise she deserved from the hard work overwhelming her to exhaustion.

"I have one last thing to tell you," Thomas finally stated, raising a dark eyebrow at the redheaded woman. "I'm going to find Polly's long lost son, and it's a long story I definitely don't want to recall right now. I was wondering if you'd like to come along."

Delilah's head shot towards Thomas, confusion painting her glamorous features. It was breathtaking how God-like she resembled, how perfectly carved she was. Like these Roman statues they could see in museums, like these glorious paintings by the most talented artists. Formidable woman, worth worshipping, blessing them with her dignified presence and smartest mind. A face even the most creative painter couldn't imagine in their ideals of beauty, a pair of mesmerizing green eyes deeper than the thickest forest, the plump lips of Aphrodite's replica, the blessing of the sunlight for freckles.

A perfect canvas of the most beautiful elements.

"Why would you want me to come, exactly?" Delilah demanded, frowning deeply. "I won't recognize him. I don't know him."

"I don't think I'll be able to recognize him either," Thomas stated and Delilah felt her heart ache. Surely, the cousins had been separated for a long, very long time. "You're a woman, just like his adoptive mother, maybe she will feel safer with you around. And you have a way with people I don't quite get, and I need that to get him back. Plus, once you have their identities, maybe you can help me find some pieces of information about them."

"What if that boy doesn't want to come here, Tom?" she whispered, afraid to say the words out loud and hurt Thomas's feelings.

"Then it will be his choice, Delilah," Thomas responded, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't want to force him into anything, just like I don't want to scare him away. This is why I need you. You're good with people, observant, and I'll need that."

Delilah stared at his face for a long second, wondering whether he was honest or not. It could be a trap, revenge for what she had done or had not done in London. His cuts were still rosy, though she could tell it would be gone in a day or two. His cerulean pupils were hopeful, one of the only emotions he had ever shown her. His lips were parted, waiting impatiently for her answer, as if she could deny him such a genuine request. Seeing him expecting so much from her, asking her to take part in his family in such an intimate way made her heart jump delightfully. She never thought she would say that one day, but every day which brought her closer to him was cherished in a very loving way.

Cherished, and even more if she could help Polly, her dear friend, find her long lost child and, perhaps, bring him home in her newly purchased house. Everything could be so perfect, and she could be one of the instigators of this sought happiness.

"Of course I will help you," Delilah finally agreed with an eye roll. "God, what I wouldn't do for you!"

In the secret of his heart, Thomas felt warmth growing and blowing each one of his cold barriers with just these few words. And the warmest smiles of hers as she stood up to fill their glasses with liquor again.

How beautifully she was changing him.

Italian words: 

Qualcosa non va : something is wrong

Che succede : What's wrong?