Here's the thing: Sullivan Miller hated cemeteries. It wasn't only the dark vibe they sent to visitors, nor even the fact that being in a cemetery doesn't exactly announce good things. But it was all of their ambiance, everything around them that made her really uncomfortable. It was like stepping into the ghosts' world without being invited, like the dead persons around didn't want you here but were forced to accept it. And she didn't want to mess with dead floating souls.

However, there she was, standing in front of the hole they dug to welcome Freddie Thorne's grave. It was heartbreaking to see how devastated everyone around her was. She was too, of course, given how she and Freddie were friends, but it was nothing compared to how destroyed Ada was, or even Tommy. Her black dress was floating around her knees, the soft fabric grazing Tommy's suit pants. One strand of hair glued to her lipstick, and she bounced it with her hand, the one that wasn't holding Tommy's one. As the priest said his words for Freddie, she drowned in her thoughts about the last two years.

Baby Karl had grown up so much it made her feel old to watch him walk, now proud of the power of his legs. He was laughing at what was told to him, messing all around the houses he was put in. He looked so similar to his parents it was painful to watch, he was a beautiful boy. But now, he didn't have a father anymore, only his great but lonely mother. The one that had encouraged her to get pregnant, the one that cheered her up for nothing for two years. It seemed like they had turned the table.

Freddie was a good man, he had everything a man could wish; however, he certainly deserved a better death. The pestilence took him away from his lovely family, while he should've died like the fucking fighter he was. After everything he went through, all the fights he had won, he finally passed out because of disease. It was sad. She had learned about his death thanks to Tommy, whom of which walked in her house one day, without knocking as usual while she was eating her breakfast before heading to the Garrison. She had barely had time to lift her head that he was putting the letter in front of her, asking her to read it. And as she did, she gasped and cried, lifting her gaze to Tommy with so many things to say, but her throat so tight she couldn't have said any.

She startled back to reality when Thomas cleared his throat next to her, letting go of her hand as he stepped up, his hands behind his back.

"I promised my friend Freddie Thorne that I'd say a few words over his grave if he should pass before me," he began, his voice clear but she could imagine his eyes, saddened. "I made this promise before he became my brother-in-law. When we were in France, fighting for the King."

"Amen," Arthur said softly, his hand behind his back and chest puffed, head high but the grief showing on his features.

"And in the end," he continued, "it wasn't War that took Freddie. Pestilence took him. But Freddie passed on his soul and his spirit to a new generation before he was cruelly taken." The blonde watched him step back next to her, his hand sliding in hers as he looked down quickly, his desire to approval showing in her eyes. She nodded slightly, her eyes settling back on the priest. The ceremony carried on, sad as the rain started to fall lightly, small raindrops falling in her blonde curls. She shivered lightly, making Tommy turn to her.

"Are you alright?" he muttered, leaning forward a bit, preventing to disturb the priest's words.

"Just a bit cold here," she answered lightly. He nodded, leaving his coat to wrap it around her as the priest ended his speech.

"I'll just talk to Ada, alright? I'll be right back."

"Take your time," she replied as he kissed her lips softly, leaving her behind as he left with his sister. The blonde rubbed her arm awkwardly while everyone seemed to leave the ceremony. Her arms were crossed on her chest and her eyes traveling all around to find the kids. Whom of which were busy around another grave, not too far from their parents, all crouched down and chatting happily.

"What you guys are doing here?" she asked, walking hardly with her high heels in the grass. Jonh's kids turned to her while Karl stayed focused on the grave, watching the tombstone in front of him.

"We're looking for flowers, and Katie is keeping them," John's eldest explained, smiling brightly to Sully.

"Wait, sweetheart, you can't keep them," she said with a soft voice, crouching down to look at him directly. "Where did you take them?"

"Over there," the child indicated with his fingers before looking back at her. "Why can't we keep them, aunt Sul? They're beautiful."

"I know, honey," she agreed while running a hand through his hair. "But you can't keep them because they're not ours, we can't take them." The kid frowned, trying to process what his aunt just told him, but didn't seem to get it completely as he asked.

"But, they don't need them, while we do," he spoke, twisting his fingers nervously, like he was afraid of her.

"Darling, their families bought it, they need to see it on their graves," she explained the best she could. The child nodded, asking quietly to his sister to put the flowers back where they stole it as the blonde grabbed Karl's tiny hand.

"Hey lad, come with me," she asked as he turned around, giving her a stolen flower. She put it back where it belonged before she lifted the child in her arms, making him ask where they were going. She didn't answer as she pulled him back on the ground, watching him run in his mother's skirt. She turned around looking for Esme when a hand grabbed her from behind.

"Alright, we need to go," Tommy said, dragging her to his car.

"But I didn't even say my goodbyes," she replied, frowning as he turned around lightly, watching her with wide eyes.

"No time for it," he answered. "Trust me." As he held her up into the car, she sat, her eyes focused before her, her arms crossed on her chest. He started the engine, glancing at her sometimes while she was looking away from him.

"I can't do this," she spoke, lifting her hands in the air. "What happened?"

"Someone blew up the Garrison," Tommy sighed as she snapped her head to him.

"Fucking hell, my pub was blown up?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "My baby?" Tommy snorted, making her roll her eyes as she chewed on her bottom lip nervously, her fingers tapping on her lap as she thought about everything she'd lost if it was real. Her work, to begin with.

When Tommy parked his car in front of the in fact blown up Garrison, Sullivan gasped loudly, moving quickly to the collapsed structure. She walked through the falling walls, burned wooden counter and tables as a fireman called her to stay out of the still dangerous pub. She waved his order away, moving carefully until she reached for Polly, whom of which was looking around her with wide eyes.

"Well, I guess it's all gone now," the eldest said softly.

"With my job, eh," Sullivan added as Polly patted her cheek, smiling to the grumpy woman.

"You'll work at the shop with all of us," she proposed as she dragged the blonde out of the once Garrison by her hand, silently guiding her out of the mess. When they exited it, the fireman sighed in release, happy to see the women alive as one of his mates was speaking with Thomas, probably about how and when the explosion had happened.

"Sorry that you lost your favorite place," Arthur said as she walked to him, letting Pol in Tommy's hands.

"Now I'll work with you," she groaned, her arms crossed as she looked at the man. "I mean, me, working in a betting shop."

"So?"

"I'm going to fucking die," she explained, Arthur giggling by her side as Tommy walked up to them to drive to the shop.

-----

Working at the shop wasn't that bad after all. At least, that what she kept repeating to herself like a mantra when Tommy and herself were walking to her place, him with his hands in his pockets. She unlocked the door and stepped in her comforting house, letting Thomas closing the front door behind him, now used to this routine.

"So, how was it?" he asked as she stepped in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of whiskey for both of them. "Working at the shop?" She put the glasses on the coffee table, her body collapsing with the couch as she took off her shoes, letting them before her as she folded her legs underneath her.

"Not that bad," she responded as he sat next to her, giving her her glass as he took his, raising an eyebrow at her. "I expected worse, but I'm definitely a barmaid." Tommy giggled to her words, kissing her temple softly as he slammed an arm around her shoulder, pulling her against him.

"I'm making it renovated, so you won't have to work at the shop for too long," he explained.

"We were made of each other," she stated with a giggle, adjusting her cheek on his shoulder. They stayed silent for a moment before he cleared his throat, making her turn her eyes to his.

"I saw how you were during Freddie's funeral," he said softly. "You were heartbreaking."

"Heartbroken," she corrected. "Yeah, I was." He held her tighter against his body as she took a sip of her whiskey, swallowing it hardly.

"Why?" Tommy asked, making her scoff.

"I saw Ada's eyes," she whispered. "How damaged she looked, lost, y'know? Death doesn't let you say goodbye, even to the persons you love the most. I don't want this for us."

He looked down at her, frowning at her words. She seemed so sad now, her eyes glowing with tears as she spoke her words. He kissed her lips softly after she had put her glass down on the table, and she held on him longer than usual. She caressed his cheek after, her eyes scanning his features adoringly. He smiled when she stood up, grabbing his hand as she guided him in her bedroom, as if he didn't know the way.

During two years, he had time to know all her ways.

-----

The thing was that being working it the shop meant to also be with the Shelby 24/7.

Sullivan walked through the shop door, swallowing the last bite of the sandwich she had just finished because she was late for that new family meeting. Polly winked at her when she made it into the room where all the Shelbys were already waiting.

"Almost late," the eldest woman commented as Sully smirked back at her.

"Girl, I'm improving myself," she replied, making Esme giggle from her spot in the staircase. The brunette waved at the blonde, making her smile in her direction. Arthur scoffed when she stopped next to him, laying on his shoulder lazily, yawning slightly.

"Short night, eh?" he asked, smirking at the girl. She laughed, raising her hands in the air.

"Well, actually..." Arthur covered his ears with his hands as John cut her off.

"We don't want to hear about that, thank you," he said as the girl laughed.

"Don't worry, I wasn't going to say anything," Sully assured, taking a seat next to Arthur while the man stood up, smiling to his folks.

"All right then, while we're waiting patiently whiskey," he exclaimed, putting a full box of whiskey bottles on the table next to him. "Left over from the explosion. It's good stuff, as well."

"My pub's stuff," Sullivan moaned as Arthur patted her shoulder with empathy. "I hope we'll enjoy it in its memory."

"You're such a bloody drama queen," Arthur sighed, rolling his eyes at the blonde.

"Right before Tommy gets here, I think there's a few things we need to get straight between the rest of us," John announced. Sully took a sip of her drink while gazing at him, seeing Pol do the same.

"You think?" she asked with a scoff, the young Shelby brother nodding in her direction.

" Yeah. Yeah, I do. I want to know," he spoke, his hands on the table before him. "When did we all take a vote on this expansion south?"

"If you have anything to say, you wait for Thomas," Polly cut as Sully nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, mate," she agreed. "Polly's right. Since when did we speak behind others' backs?"

"I see all the books. Legal and off track. Sort of stuff you don't see. And in the past year, the Shelby Company Limited has been making £150 a day. Right? A fucking day. Sometimes more. So what I want to know is why are we changing things? Polly, look what's happened already. We haven't even set foot in London yet and they've already blown up our fucking pub."

"Fucking shut up about that pub, alright?" Sullivan asked, slamming her glass against the wooden table. "It's painful."

"Shut it, drama bitch," John snapped as the blonde rolled her eyes. "That's bloody serious."

"Yeah, I'm bloody serious too," she replied, standing up to face the man. "I love you John, but since when do you speak behind Tommy's back? Just wait for him to ask your fucking questions."

"Whatever," Arthur cut off, grabbing the blonde's wrist to put her down next to him. "Who said anything about cockneys?"

"Who else?" Esme replied from her spot in the staircase now standing on her feet, her head seen from behind the handrail.

"You know who did this do you?" Polly asked. John cleared his throat and stepped to the brunette, hiding her wife from her view - as if she would disappear like this.

"No, she doesn't know who did this," he replied, glaring to his aunt.

"I'm told only family are allowed to speak," the brunette said anyway, sitting back on a stair as Tommy stepped in the room, looking at all of their tensed faces.

"Everyone's allowed to speak." Tommy clarified as Esme snapped her head in his direction, her eyes floating to Sully's ones. "On your feet, Esme, let's hear what you have to say." As Esme seemed to hesitate, Sully nodded at her, motioning for her to stand up.

"I'm not a blood member of this family but perhaps, indeed, because I'm NOT a member I can see things in a different light. So I'll get to my point."

"That would be nice," Polly answered as Sully bit the inside of cheeks to stop the laughter from leaving her throat.

"As my husband said, Shelby Company Limited is now very successful," the brunette continued, ignoring Polly's remarks. "But London I have kin in Shepherd's Bush and Portobello. It's more like wars between armies down there. And the coppers fight side-by-side with them. And there are foreigners of every description, and the use of bombs is the least of it. I have a child, blessed with the Shelby family's good looks. I want John to see him grow up. I want us to someday live somewhere with fresh air and trees and keep chickens or something. But London is just smoke and trouble, Thomas."

"'Thomas?'" Polly mimicked, making the blonde snort.

"That's all I have to say," Esme stated, sitting back on the stairs.

"That was a lot of words," Arthur stated.

"Thank you, Esme," Tommy said. "Firstly, the bang in the pub was nothing to do with London. Understood? The bang is something I'm dealing with on my own. Secondly, we've nothing to fear from the proposed business expansion so long as we stick together. And after the first few weeks, nine-tenths of what we do in London will be legal. The other tenth is in good hands. Isn't that right, Arthur?"

"That's right," Arthur confirmed.

"Now, some of you in this room have expressed their reservations. Fair enough. Any of you who want no part in the future of this company, walk out the door, right now. Go raise your chickens. For those of you with ambition, the expansion process begins tomorrow."

"Cheers!" Sullivan exclaimed by standing up, holding her glass high in the air, causing Arthur and Polly to chuckle. Tommy winked at her as she drank her whiskey straight.

-----

The shop was way better when it was quiet.

Sullivan ran a hand through her hair as she wrote something down on the paper she was working on when the front door of the betting shop flew opened, a sobbing Polly appearing behind it. The brunette closed the door softly and lifted to Tommy's office, meeting Sully's eyes.

"You're still here?" the eldest asked as the blonde stood up, walking to her.

"Yeah, some papers for the Garrison I had to work onto," she explained. "Are you alright?"

"Are you waiting for Thomas?" Polly demanded.

"No, already gone," she responded.

"Then, whiskey," the woman exclaimed, walking to a closet where whiskey was situated. Polly sat down at Thomas' office, taking the guest's seat while the blonde took Thomas', enjoying how she looked like a boss. As the brunette poured her drinks, Sully wondered why Polly was here, sitting at her nephew's office, drinking whiskey with red eyes - those eyes which were actually crying.

"First of all," Polly began, "promise you won't tell anyone. Not even Tommy, no fucking one."

"Yeah, Pol, alright," she agreed. "You have my word."

"You probably don't know, but I had two kids," Polly taled, watching at her friend's reaction. "But they had been taken away from me. I never found them, and tonight I went to a fucking medium because I was making strange dreams about my daughter." Sullivan frowned as Polly sobbed again, hiding her face in her hands.

"I just learned that she was dead," she finished.

Yup, death was a fucking shit.

Sorry that I just posted now, school had been crazy lately, but since we're all confined in my country I'll have more time to write and post. Anyway, thank you for still reading my story, love you all!