Finding a hotel had never been that hard for either of them. Used to Small Heath, Sullivan and Tommy got lost twice, and when they finally reached for where Carlisle said he was staying, she didn't believe her eyes.

"That should be a mistake," she said, exiting her brother's letter from the collar of her dress. Reading the address again, she rolled her eyes, watching the dark building again. The blonde sighed heavily, running her hand through her hair.

"You're not forced to do anything," Tommy reminded her for the hundredth time.

"I know," she spoke quietly. She looked at the building again, people coming in and out of it, all dressed in suits.

"Are you sure you want me there?" he asked, lowering his voice.

Sullivan turned to him, her fingers ghosting the scar on his cheekbone. Almost disappeared, but pinkish still. "I told you," she said again. She took a deep breath, relaxing quietly, and even Tommy noticed the change in her position. She was standing taller, her eyes darkened by anger or maybe sadness.

Sullivan put her shit together, giving the letter to Tommy. "Would you keep it for me?" she demanded with a smile. He nodded, grabbing the paper and shoving it his one of his coat pockets. "Let's go," she then sighed, sliding her hand in his for comfort.

It had been a while since the last time she had stepped into a luxury resort, and she had wished she wouldn't step in one for the rest of her life. The diamond chandelier was hanging on the ceiling, the receptionist was dressed in a fancy black dress, welcoming her customers with a bright smile plastered on her face.

"That's the kind of hotel I messed up with Arthur the first time we came," Tommy whispered in her ear. Sullivan chuckled, squeezing his hand as they approached the desk.

"That's the kind of hotel I used to went with my father," Sullivan said in a low voice. "Now, I do the talking," she then said with a smile, turning to the receptionist.

"Good morning," the woman greeted, "how can I help you?"

"Hello, Miss," Sullivan greeted politely, letting her hands rest on the polish wood of the desk. "I'm looking for my brother, he's residing here. Name is Carlisle Miller?"

The receptionist flipped through the pages of their registration book, eyebrows furrowed as if she was in deep concentration. "I see here someone registered as Carl Miller, is that your brother?"

"I think so, yes," Sullivan replied with a fake smile, "can you give us the room number?"

"Yes, of course!" the redhead receptionist exclaimed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's number 203. You have to take the elevator to the second floor, and then it will be on your right."

"Thank you," Sullivan said with another smile, this time genuine. "I love your hair, by the way." She turned on her heels, grasping Tommy's hand and walking towards the elevators.

Once they were in this, she breathed in and out to relax, Thomas sometimes squeezing her hand gently. "'Kay," she spoke once they were on the second floor, staying away from the room. "There we go," she spoke, hugging Tommy's waist carefully.

"You don't have to do this," he assured again, his arms wrapping around her.

"Yes, I do," she answered quietly. "Not to be dramatic, but now you're not in London no more. You're in Cheyenne, around ten years ago. You asked me once how we were handling our problems in America. Well, darlin', you're 'bout to find out."

"You are dramatic," Tommy confirmed, leaning forward to kiss her lips gently. "But you're doing great."

Sullivan chuckled against his lips, kissing him again before she was heading through the end of the corridor, where the room 203 was situated if the golden numbers on the door were anything to go by. She knocked loudly, breathing deeply again.

When the door opened, she stopped breathing. At all.

He had changed. Not a lot, but he had. His sandy-colored hair was fixed perfectly, though he wasn't wearing a suit yet. His blue eyes were tired, but shining in a way they had always had. Good or bad day, he always seemed happy. His skin was a little tanned, like hers was when she was still in Cheyenne or when she had first got here. She recovered quickly. "We can't stay too long," she warned as a greeting, motioning for Thomas to follow her into the room.

"We," Carlisle repeated, nodding to Tommy. "Alright, I thought you would come alone."

Sullivan scoffed, standing in the middle of the room. Tommy leaned against the wall behind her, his arms crossed on his chest. "Yeah, well, you're lucky I'm even here," she spoke. "It was a long shot, but what are you doing here?"

"You asked for me," he simply answered, motioning for her to sit down on a chair behind her, encouraging Tommy to do the same instead of standing.

"Two years ago," she retorted, sitting where her brother had told her to. "But okay, I guess that's a good answer."

"What happened to your face?" Carlisle then asked, frowning deeply, his hands curling into fists. "Is that you?" he demanded, looking at Thomas behind his sister.

Thomas stayed silent, only glaring at that man. Who did he think he was, speaking to him that way? "Jesus, no!" Sullivan exclaimed, raising her hands in the air. "What the fuck is bloody wrong with you? I just got here and you're already spilling false accusations?"

Carlisle raised his hands in surrender, apologizing quietly to Thomas. Sullivan glared at him. "What? I just said I was sorry! You didn't even tell his name, Jeez."

"Thomas Shelby, there it is," she exclaimed, closing her eyes. "What business do you have in London anyway?"

Carlisle cleared his throat, sitting in a matching chair in front of her. "I want to move from America," he announced, which made Sullivan snort.

"Irene isn't providing you enough anymore?" Sullivan mockingly asked. "Or maybe Richard finally fired you."

Carlisle sighed heavily, closing his eyes. "My wife died, Sul," he softly answered. "We have no kids, nothing, and the only good thing in my life fuckin' died."

Sullivan grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm sorry, I'm being a bitch here."

Carlisle laughed softly in agreement, opening his eyes again. "Enough of that, what happened? To both of you."

Sulivan turned around, looking for approval on Tommy's face, which she found in his eyes, as always. "Thomas's doing business," she began, inviting him to sit with them. "Had troubles with the wrong London gang, we're kinda risking our lives here."

Carlisle snorted, looking down at his hands. "You're always putting yourself in fucking troubles," he mocked.

"Yeah, because you never put me in any trouble before," she snapped. "And with troubles, I mean Parkinson," she clarified, crossing her arms over her chest.

"So you really want to talk about it," he stated.

"I do," she replied while nodding, "yeah, I do. Because I think I deserve explanations, and maybe apologies."

"Apologies?" Carlisle repeated as he stood up, quickly followed by Sully. "Apologies for what? You murdered a son, a brother for fuck's sake!"

"Oh," she scoffed, feeling her eyes filling with tears. "Because murdering someone in self-defense doesn't count?"

"Self-defense my ass," he screamed, stepping in front of her as if he would hit her. "He was our friend, Dad had business with him!"

"It's always business," she whispered, pursing her lips together. "Business is always more fucking important than family, your own fuckin' lil sister!"

Carlisle bit his lower lip to contain his words, knowing she didn't deserve all of this. However, a man was dead, found lying in his blood, and the very same sister he had in front of him gone. "You know I had nothing to say in all of this mess," he chose to tell. "I didn't even know."

Sullivan let out a whimper of pain, tears rolling down her cheeks for good. The men in the room wanted to comfort her, but none of them dared. "You fucking kidding me? You never saw the bruises, the cuts?" she screamed. "I trusted you! You were my big brother, you were supposed to protect me, and you let me go with him! You knew how he was, you knew he was dangerous for me!" she screamed, hitting his chest. "You failed, he broke me, you understand? He fucking hurt me, and you knew that because I told you! How could you do that to me?"

Deep within himself, Thomas wanted to kill this man. He had hurt the most important girl in his whole life, even if it wasn't intentional, but he did; still, he had accused him to hit her the second he had walked into the room. He watched Sullivan whimpering in her hands until Carlisle stepped to her, wrapping him in his arms and holding her tightly, his own eyes watery. "I'm so sorry, Sully," he whispered in her hair, consoling her the best he could. "I knew, and I didn't do anything. I'm not even mad because he died."

"I hope so," she snapped, sniffling in his shirt. "Remember this manner he had to say 'ew' all the time?"

"Fucking psycho," Carlisle cursed with a slight laugh. Even Sullivan laughed slightly, warming up their hearts. She pulled away from her brother's embrace, bumping into Tommy's chest.

"'Kay, enough tears now," she spoke louder, wiping her tears away. "I have stuff to ask anyway," Sullivan stated.

"Shoot," Carlisle ordered, watching her moving carefully to the seat she previously had.

"What about Irene and Richard?" she asked quietly, locking eyes with her older brother.

"She's fine, still the dependant women she had always been but hey, some things never change," he responded with a shrug. "And Richard's fine, he's always doing his shit and y'know him." Sullivan nodded, leaning against Tommy's chest.

"How long are you planning to stay?" the blonde demanded, watching as her brother sat down.

"I'm renting this room for four more days," he explained. "After that, I don't have no fucking where to go," he admitted.

Sullivan turned around, looking for answers in Tommy's blue eyes. Before she could even think about it, she was turning again. "Do you have something I could write on?" she asked. Carlisle nodded, moving to another part of his room. She felt Thomas leaning forward a little.

"You're doing good," he assured, kissing her temple. She smiled slightly when her brother gave her a piece of paper and something to write on.

"Listen," she ordered, sitting at the table to write on. "We're in Birmingham, Small Heath. You came by boat, didn't you?"

"How else?" Carlisle muttered.

"It'll take you four days from here to Small Heath," Tommy spoke for the first time, his deep voice seeming to startle the blonde male.

"True," Sully confirmed while raising her pencil in Tommy's direction. "This," she said as she slid the paper in Carlisle's direction, "is Tommy's office set, you can call whenever you're leaving London. You'll come live with me, I have a little house. Nothing compared to Cheyenne though," she muttered with a snort.

"You're not living together?" the Miller brother asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Not yet," Sullivan responded quickly. "You can stay with me as long as it'll take for you to get back on your feet. There are jobs in Small Heath, so you won't have to look for something too far away from home." Carlisle nodded while Thomas put his hand on Sullivan's shoulder. "We're all working on daytime, but once you'll be in Small Heath, you'll probably arrive at Charlie's Yard. If you do, then ask for Curly, he'll guide you to us. If you don't want to be escorted, just ask for him. Remember his name?"

"Thomas Shelby," Carlisle nodded.

"Tommy," Sullivan corrected. "Whatever," she quickly said while waving her words. "Just don't call me when you're already in Birmingham, alright? This shit needs preparation."

Carlisle scoffed as she turned to Tommy, whom of which only smiled down at her. "Oh, and if you call," he then spoke, looking to her brother, "just ask for her, so I won't lose my time speaking with you."

Carlisle cleared his throat, nodding to the man. "I think we should go," Sully suddenly realized. "Curly's been waiting for us."

She stood up, imitated by her brother, who walked to her hand hugged her tight. "Call, alright? Call and ask for me."

"Will do," he assured before his body stiffened. "Hold on," he asked, rushing towards the bathroom. Once he appeared again, he was holding a little box, which he outstretched to her. "For you," he said softly, while she kissed his cheek.

"Call," she said again before she exited the hotel room, holding the box against her chest tightly.

They rushed back to the boat, and this time she didn't mind running after Tommy. In fact, she didn't pay much attention to where they were going, her mind lost in many thoughts.

Sullivan had the feeling that nothing had been really said, between her and Carl. Not that she saw anything else she could've told, but somehow he shut up like a clam as soon as she had mentioned Parkinson and the abuses she had gone through.

She bumped into Tommy when he stopped to grab her hand, making sure she wouldn't get lost somewhere in the mass of people on the dock, feeling some insisting looks on her. Once he had made sure she followed him, he turned around, looking for Charlie's boat.

Many hours later, when the night had fallen above their moving boat, Sulivan found herself sitting on the bridge, Tommy's coat wrapped around herself, her legs hanging over the edge. She had interlaced her arms around the metallic boat rail, lost in her thoughts again.

"I can hear you thinking from downstairs," Thomas spoke as he sat next to her, startling her slightly.

"I'm sorry," she truly apologized.

"I was joking," he replied with a frown. "Are you okay?"

Sullivan let her temple rest on his shoulder, breathing deeply. "I don't know, honestly," she whispered. "I have the feeling I didn't do what I should've done," she admitted.

"You did great," he affirmed, reaching for her chin on his shoulder, so she would look at him. "I'm serious, you did."

The blonde shrugged, pushing his hand away. "He's my brother," she spoke, her voice shaking a little. "I couldn't do anything else, I care about him, even if at one time he didn't protect me."

"I know," Tommy affirmed, holding her against his chest. "I know, love, you did great, I swear. Seemed to me he had changed," he admitted, though he wasn't quite sure about that. He wanted to comfort her so much he didn't care much about what he said.

"I'll find him a job," she spoke again. "He won't have to be in the Peaky, I don't want him to do that."

"He'll choose for himself," Thomas stated firmly. "He'll see what we're doing, he's smart enough for that."

"Also," Sully cut off, sitting up and looking at him, her fingers tracing his features softly, "I'll be your secretary."

Thomas chuckled, kissing her again. Somehow, she felt safe in his embrace, safer than she had ever been. Deep in her heart, she was sure about one thing: Tommy was everything she had always wanted, everything she desired, and everything she could ever loved.

And she didn't have words for it. Though, she needed to speak a few ones. "Listen," she asked, "thank you for staying," she said softly. "Thank you for coming with me, thank you again."

"We're a team, alright?" he assured, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. "You're here to save my life, I'm here to hold the mess of yours with you." She smiled before leaning forward again, letting their bodies speak for them.

They had never needed words.

-----

a lot of things hadn't been said between Sullivan and her brother, but don't worry, they'll have another chance
also, this chapter means a lot to me, mostly because it defines everything about Sullivan, and I know it's not really finish yet, but don't worry, I'm writing chapter 29 and the thirteenth will be angst