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ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ʙᴀᴅ ᴅᴀʏ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ sʜᴇ sᴛᴇᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ sᴛᴀɪʀs.

Her father was never happy, however whenever he was, they all knew that it was some selfish reason to spite another person. He was grinning from ear to ear, his dark eyes seeming to glow as they never had before. As she sat at the dining table, the food already set in front of her, she knew she would be hearing all about it as soon as his mouth was clear of the food that fell freely from his lips.

"Thomas Shelby's brother is in prison along with his cousin." Gabriel laughed only seconds later, the crushed up pieces of bacon flying to land on his plate as he talked. Valentine straightened at the mention of Thomas' cousin- that was Michael.

"Why, Papa?" Valentine asked innocently.

"The cousin burned a pub and the brother pulled a gun on someone- might've killed him, I don't know." Gabriel shrugged it off, his hands flying around as he talked. "Quite frankly, I don't care. As long as those bastards are out of my way."

In reality, there was nothing that Gabriel Dubois cared more about. Not even his family.

Valentine may have even thought her father had something to do with Michael's imprisonment, had she not known the real him. He was lazy, and had a tendency to dally far too much when doing anything that was remotely important or interesting. It was as if he was adverse to the mere idea of action, whether he loved the outcome or not. More often than not, the word lazy didn't seem to do Gabriel's inactivity enough justice. He was an indolent person, torpidly careless and too infuriatingly bitter, even for his large body.

"We've also had a business deal from a man in France. Big money this is girls." Camille laughed at this, placing a peck on her husband's cheek.

"Where shall we buy our second house?" Gabriel asked as he poured his family drinks, calling for celebration so early in the morning.

"How about... Italy!" Camille suggested, leaning into Gabriel.

Valentine fought the urge to let out a huff.

"If you had any sense you'd buy another first rather than live in this disgusting city," she said. What made them think of Birmingham as a place to live, she didn't know. "I'm leaving."

They didn't bother to hold her back or ask where she was going. Her random leaving was a thing they had all grown used to, and she could look after herself enough. But after hearing of Michael's arrest, she couldn't stop thinking about him. She had been there the night of the fight in the Marquis and felt like she knew what his arrest was about. But surely Michael didn't burn the pub down?

Birmingham was as dismal as ever. Low clusters of smoke decided to cling to the roof tops, wafting a tight sense of claustrophobia on the entirety of Small Heath. There wasn't many people on the street and even the Garrison seemed remotely empty as Valentine passed it on her way to the prison.

The route was familiar to the young girl, having visited people there numerous times because of her family and their business. It wasn't a pleasant route either as it required Valentine to walk passed the Duke's arms- a pub that wasn't protected by the Peaky Blinders and usually entertained the likes of her brother's perverted friends, namely John Robertson, the biggest prick in Birmingham. Valentine would often tell him so, not that it ever stopped him from regularly hurling offensive 'compliments' her way as she passed down the street.

To her luck, the very person she prayed she wouldn't see was hanging by the side of the pub, stumbling over his feet with a glass of beer in his clammy hands, surrounded by his friends who were equally as drunk. The beer seemed to find its way to the muddy ground more successfully that his actual mouth. Valentine hurried down Rowtree street, cursing her choice of shoes as her heels clicked obnoxiously against the mottled cobblestone.

"Oi, Val!" She payed him no attention as he belted out a goofily disturbing laugh, that sounded more like a choking pig. It died down, almost as if he were thinking of what to say.

"Be my Valentine, Doll?" He slurred, raising his now empty glass towards her in an attempted charming gesture. But instead, his chin shrivelled into itself as he raised his eyebrows suggestively. He looked constipated.

Valentine raised her eyebrows in disgust at the man's attempt. It wasn't even as if he were good looking. John Robertson had a beer belly and thinning brown that would be expected of a forty year old, not a young, twenty something year old boy. Who even said that anyway?

"Why? What's one more to the list?" This comment didn't come from John and perhaps that was why Valentine was so angered by it- it wasn't one of the usual stupid remarks. Forcefully, she stopped in her tracks and turned to face the men who were now howling at the boy's comment, unaware of the fiery woman who was now stomping her way up to the group.

A surprised yelp was released by the unsuspecting man as Valentine grabbed his jacket and pushed him against the rough wall. He looked down at her scowling face with a look of shock at the woman's strength.

"You know who I am?" Her voice was calmly intimidating as she spoke. He nodded. "So you know what will happen if you say a word more to me ever. You'll lose your tongue.

Strong gazes pierced through her retreating figure and the street was filled with an uncomfortable silence as the boys stood in shock at her outburst. Valentine made it to the prison at record speeds thanks to the anger that still sizzled in her stomach. It was a relatively large building, with large brick walls and barbed wired outline, only 20% of prisoners had escaped over the passed five years.

George, the usual guard that was posted on the front entrance, greeted her with a smile as she walked up to the window. The two had become surprising acquaintances due to the fact she was there to visit her brother so often and the older man even allowed her to stay longer on some nights. Valentine still had her charm.

"Afternoon, George." She smiled, tapping on the glass window to gain his attention. He looked up at her with confusion before nodding his head in 'hello'.

"I didn't realise any of your family were in, Valentine?" He said, although it sounded more questioning as he looked up at her with furrowed eyebrows.

"Actually, George, I would like to ask a favour today." She said, flashing a winsome smile as she leaned forward onto the counter. George blushed and turned to look at the book in front of him, avoiding her gaze.

"I don't think I can do that."

"Oh it's just a simple little favour." She purred, biting her lip as she leaned further towards the window that separated them. "I'll do anything."

She wouldn't de anything. In fact she would barely do the bare minimum. But, with her name, Valentine knew she wouldn't have to- wouldn't even need to contemplate it. George cleared his throat nervously as he fumbled with his collar messily.

"I need to speak to someone in here but my family, and many other people actually, can't find out."

"And why can't they find out?" He stuttered simply. Finally, he looked up to Valentine, exposing the light tinge of pink that was still coating his chubby cheeks.

"Well we wouldn't want to besmirch my pristine reputation would we?" She asked him innocently. George's brows were still wrinkled deeply as he looked through the list of names on his sheet, wondering who it could possibly be that she wanted to visit.

"Who would you like to visit, Miss Dubois?" He asked, switching to a more professional tone, showing that he accepted her favour. She tutted, shaking her head.

"I need you to promise you won't tell George."

"I promise." He murmured, once again moving his hand to tug at his colour as if it were hot.

"I would like to see Michael Gray." She whispered, smiling politely as she twirled a loose strand of her brunette locks. George sighed before pulling himself to his feet and jerking his head to the side in a motion to move.

The two walked down the mundane corridors, twisting around corners into hallways that looked identical to the last. At the third twist of a corridor, Valentine's confident posture faltered at the sight of Polly Gray walking in the opposite direction, following closely behind Campbell. The older woman looked towards Valentine with a raised eyebrow before turning into an office.

After what had seemed like ages, George stopped at a door and pulled out his keys. The door was like every other in the building, glaringly white with a tiny window at the top of it. Although Valentine was a tall woman for her young age, she couldn't see through it to view Michael.

Slowly, the door was pushed open and she peered in cautiously, watching as Michael stood from the edge of his bed abruptly. George shut the door behind her, leaving her with Michael as she stood staring back at him.

His face was painted a deep black and blue, the colours of his bruises blending into his dark hair, matted to the side of his face. His lips, usually smooth and pleasant against her own smooth face, were burst, dried up blood coating them a crimson red. Michael looked paler, with dark circles under his droopy eyes giving shadowy contrast. He blinked at her slowly, as if his eyes were too heavy to be able to clear his vision quick enough.

"Valentine?"

His voice was hoarse, as broken and cracked as his face. Confusion ripples through his face and he winced as his eyebrows shot up. Valentine rushed to his side, being careful of his injuries as she embraced him tightly, pulling away only to take his jaw lightly in her hands.

"I wanted to see you," she whispered, her eyes moving delicately over the bruises that littered his face. "Why did they do this to you?"

A brute had done this to him. There wasn't nothing else to call the man who had bloodied a boy of barely eighteen up so much. She was surprised that Michael could even see her through his swollen eyes and the crusted blood that layered over them. Guilt rippled through her due to the fact that she felt sick at the sight of his. Sick by the fact that he had been hurt so badly and she had no idea. Valentine frowned as he flinched at her touch.

"Information, to prove a point, I don't know." Michael spoke bitterly, his teeth clenching to stop himself from snapping. But his hands still shook and Valentine reached to hold them, stilling the jittering movements, letting him take her fingers with his.

"Don't frown," he whispered, still staring down at their entwined hands. "There's no need."

He looked up, his hands instead moving to rub over her creased brow and down turned lips. The feeling tickled her, making Valentine smile.

"I was worried about you." It came out as a gentle murmur, softer than she had ever spoke.

"How did you manage to get in to see me?"

She smiled, raised a brow and flicked her nose. "Let's just say, I think the guard fancies me a little bit."

"What's his name? I might need a word with him." He growled jokingly, leaning into her neck, more out of fatigue than anything else. But still, she was comforted by it.

"You look exhausted Michael."

"I am." He admitted, letting out a sigh as she brought him into a hug, letting him lean against her chest and close his eyes. Valentine stroked through his thick hair as he spat out his next words, "Don't think I'll sleep till I'm out of this fucking place."

"I saw your mother as I was walking to your room." She stated, looking down to him as he opened his eyes to look back up at her upon hearing this.

"She hasn't been in yet," he said breathily.

"Maybe she couldn't get in because of the guards yet?" She suggested, continuing to run her hands through his hair comfortingly.

They both knew it wasn't true.

"How long until you get out?"

"Hopefully soon." He huffed out a sigh, taking Valentine's hand while placing his other hand on her cheek. She puffed out a heavy breath and placed a light kiss on his palm. "I should go in case Polly comes."

She stood for a moment, her lips bitten from worry and hands clenched with his. He didn't look like the Michael she knew. Michael was strong, cheeky, clever and articulate. Here he looked tired, unbothered and as if he had given up completely. Yet, she felt pulled to him as if he lay in her bed as she remembered. Valentine placed yet another kiss to his palm, whispering a goodbye before turning to slip out of the door silently, meeting George at the other side.

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