☆

CLARA DIDN'T SLEEP THAT NIGHT. She didn't admit it but part of her was scared of what she might do whilst asleep. Because if she can do so much while she's awake without realisation, what on god's green earth did she do while sleeping? Dawn seemed to approach quickly. Clara had only moved from the floor downstairs beside the phone to grab a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen before she returned to the spot. She merely sat and stared as she cradled the drink, downing sections of it at a time. She did not want to think. She did not want to think of the engaged girl upstairs or the London girl she'd blown off. She did not want to think about her crazed reflection or her crazed mind.

She did not want to think...so, she worked.

Clara tended to work in her head, to plan out her day step by step, to plan out paperwork and to do it mentally before physically. She tended to write scripts in her head that she'd rattle off when conducting business. It was easier that way. "Fail to prepare, prepare to fail", Aunt Pol had always said, but even so the older woman seemed to just do whatever she pleased.

The sun had only just risen when the Shelby girl had begun to prepare for business. It was early, but business like this was always either early into the morning or ran late into the depths of night. Clara dressed in complete silence as Penny remained fast asleep. Her usual shirt felt itchy against her skin as she pulled on her waistcoat and coat. Her pants felt wrong. It all felt wrong. She convinced herself she was just jaded from the night before.

Clara didn't wake Penny as she left the house and locked the door behind her. After the night the two of them had, it was unlikely that the blonde would wake up whilst she was away. Clara started the car, the engine below her roared to life and was loud she'd swear you would be able to hear it back in Small Heath. As she began to drive, she blanked. Her mind just stopped thinking full stop. She stopped feeling. She had business to do and that was her main priority. Not Nadia. Not Penny. Not Thomas. Not bloody Anthony Margrave and his rich, tory family. None of them came close to knocking her off her pedestal of focus.

It was a foggy morning in London and fog drifted over the wharves like smoke from a flame. The air felt bitter as its coldness nipped at Clara's cheeks. She didn't mind the cold. She never minded the cold at all. It woke her up. Her leather-clad hands were deep in her pockets as she strode towards a warehouse. Her black coat swept behind her in the wind and her grey, tattered peaky hat was pulled down over her ears. Her gun was tucked safely underneath her jacket and out of sight in its leather holster. Her head remained down as she approached the warehouse doors where she finally looked toward the two men guarding the doors.

"I'm expected," Clara spoke, her face straight as her jaw clenched. "Go on then, go check." She shook her head as one of the men entered the warehouse, his footsteps pattering against the floor. The girl's feet were planted on the floor solidly. She wouldn't waver. No rocking onto her heels, no shifting uncomfortably, no reaching for a cigarette. She stood solemnly and tall.

"She's cleared,"

Another man appeared from behind the door and led her inside the warehouse. Clara's lip quirked up at the familiar face before she allowed her face to fall once more. The man stopped her while she entered as two others grabbed each of her arms and stripped her of her jacket and coat along with her holstered gun. The man who had led her inside, patted her arms down, his hands hesitating as they moved.

"One wrong move and you can say goodbye to some very important parts," Clara remarked calmly, raising an eyebrow as the man's hand lingered above her chest.

"Oh, come on! Let 'er go, she's only little, isn't she!"

Clara smirked at the gruff voice as Ollie let go of her arms and handed her back her coat. She shrugged the material on once more, the absence of her gun leaving an odd coldness.

Clara Shelby had first met Alfie Solomons a year ago. She didn't do any actual business discussions with him. She mainly only collected paperwork from the man every month or so. Tommy tried to restrict her contact with him at all costs. Clara couldn't lie and say she disliked the man. He amused her. She didn't like the things he'd done— especially the things he'd done to Arthur, but she figured that all was fair in business and war, was it not? It seemed that the man was also amused by her, because every time Tommy organised to meet with Alfie, the Jewish man would ask him to bring Clara.

"Go on, then, piss off!" Alfie huffed, which caused the two men who were guarding the door to resume their positions. "Clara!"

"Hello, Alfie," The Shelby girl slowly nodded, "Nice morning?"

"Oh, well, no...I were expecting Tommy, weren't I?"

"Tommy has other matters to deal with," Clara answered smoothly as she walked beside the buff man. "I'm only here for the paperwork, Alfie."

"Right, right," he gruffly let out a breath, "well, you're on a mission, ain't ya?" Clara moved beside the man as she dodged a tower of stacked crates.

"I s'pose you got the flowers and card then?" The man commented as they passed through the warehouses full of barrels and crates.

"I did... and they made great kindling for the fire," the girl kept a straight face as Alfie cracked a half-smile.

"Pity," he shrugged, "those were the good ones from the market, they were."

"And they did a fine job at making my office warmer," Clara supplied,

"Shall we break some bread, to peace n' prosperity and all that?" Alfie cut her off as he thought aloud. The girl raised a brow as they turned the corner. The man's gait was heavy, his feet hit the ground with loud thumps.

"I'm going to pass on that," the girl answered, "I just need the papers, Alfie. I've got a busy schedule."

"Ah, I see," The man hummed in his usual contemplative tone. He looked down his nose at her as she stood straight. "Not even some white bread?"

"Not even a single slice," the girl smirked as Alfie 'hmpfed' and continued towards his office.

Alfie's office wasn't all that different to Tommy's. It was poorly lit and paper was strewn across his desk in organised chaos. The drawers were all locked shut, his gun tucked within as Tommy had warned oh so many times. Cabinets were scattered around the room, no doubt holding tens of thousands of financial secrets.

"A'right, what 'ave we 'ere," Alfie sat down into his chair with a huff as he shuffled through some papers. "Couldn't just fax them, no?"

"Tommy wants the papers," Clara pressed her lips into a line. "No fax. Just the papers and I'll be on my way—"

"Well, wait, 'old on a minute," Alfie interrupted, "there's no rush, what 'ave you got to do that's more important than this, eh?"

"I've things to do in the real world, I'm sure you're familiar enough with it?"

"The real world? Ya won't get more real than this," Alfie handed her a stack of papers. Clara took them with a grim smile, her fingers ran across the top corners of all of them as she checked to see if they were all there. "That's all of 'em,"

Clara paused in her counting before she looked up and narrowed her eyes. "There's eight here...where's the ninth, Alfie?" She questioned, her cold blue eyes locking on his. "The accounting one?"

"Oh...I must've missed that one, 'aven't I?" Alfie ran his hands through another stack of paper before pulling out another file. "'ere it is, ain't it..." he handed it to her, almost reluctantly.

Clara's eyes scanned over the contents before she looked up with an approving nod. "Right," she started, "have a good day, Alfie..." her eyes flitted to the doorway where Ollie hovered. "You too, Ollie."

Clara left the office briskly, grabbing her jacket from Ollie who still clutched it, along with her loaded holster. The girl slipped on her jacket, one hand grasping the papers at all times. She'd been taught well. She ran her eyes over the words written and printed on the page as she walked.

And as she left the warehouse, she didn't turn back once.

☆

"CLARA, IS THAT YOU?"

Clara winced as she shut the front door to Ada's house. The papers were tucked under her arm as she shed her hat and jacket. She removed her gun and hid it beneath the jacket and out of sight. Penny's groggy voice echoed through the empty house. The Shelby girl's shoulders rolled back as she climbed the stairs towards the bedroom Penny presumably lay in.

Clara took in a deep breath before she rounded the corner and leaned against the doorframe, a smirk across her face. Penny was sprawled across the bed, the sheets just covering her chest. Her blonde hair glinted in the sun as it pooled into the room in beams of the brightest yellow.

"You're up early," Penny yawned, her arms stretched out as the sheet shifted. Clara felt her eyes glance downward before she met Penny's eyes again.

"Force of habit," Clara hummed as she pushed off of the door frame and stalked towards the bedside.

"You were never usually like that," Penny mumbled, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm.

"Well I didn't have a lot to do back then, did I?" She raised a brow as Penny scooted over in the bed.

"Come back to bed then," the blonde urged, patting the space beside her. "You look like you haven't slept at all."

Clara hadn't of course. She hadn't even returned to bed since Penny had fallen asleep, but she wasn't going to say a damn thing.

"Come on, get in," Penny whined, rolling over to look at the girl.

"Alright," Clara grumbled as she kicked off her shoes and lay on top of the sheets. Penny leaned into the girl's clothed body, something which made the Shelby girl squirm. It had been a long night and whilst some of it had been incredible, the other parts made the Shelby girl fear she would taint 'perfect Penny'.

"Were you out this morning?" Penny questioned, nudging her head under Clara's arm as the Shelby lit a cigarette.

"No," Clara blatantly lied. Penny didn't like Clara's line of work. It was understandable. The girl took a long drag of her cigarette. "Just got up and dressed early."

"I had a dream last night," Penny started, a faint smile across her face.

"Oh, yeah?" Clara hummed, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "And what did you dream up?"

"Well, I was in it, so were you and that magnificent white horse from when we first became friends," Penny explained, Clara nodded as she remembered the poorly horse and how Tommy had killed him so easily. "And we were riding the horse...but we weren't in Small Heath. I think we were in Holland. You see, I've seen pictures of the tulip fields there. They're meant to be magnificent."

Clara watched as Penny's face contorted as she spoke, from her furrowing brows to her widening eyes, something in Clara's chest sunk.

"Anyways, we were riding the horse through this tulip field, and then all of a sudden this tulip field was the spot...our spot," Penny clarified, "and we had a picnic and the sky was blue and it was nice."

Clara looked at Penny as if expecting more, but when the blonde stopped talking and looked toward Clara for a response, she cleared her throat.

"Sounds like a good dream," Clara sniffed, raising her cigarette to her mouth once more. She forgot that people dreamt normally. They dreamt of silly and mundane things. They were ordinary dreams. Hopeful ones. Dreams so unlike the horrors that plagued Clara at night.

"It was," Penny smiled, turning onto her back. "Have you been there recently?...to our spot, I mean?"

Clara exhaled a lungful of smoke as she thought. "No," she concluded, "not recently."

"So, you didn't bring anyone there?" Penny asked almost fearfully.

"Nope,"

"Clara...was...was there anyone else?" The blonde queried as she refused to meet Clara's gaze. "I mean...were you with anyone else? Was there no one-?"

Clara faltered for a few seconds. She thought of Nadia. Oh, Nadia, Nadia, Nadia. Her sin. Her sweetest temptation. The fire that rushed through her veins. The flame that was yet to be fanned out as it burned her soul.

"No...there was no one," Clara answered while her eye twitched ever so slightly. She shifted her position in the bed. Her stomach knotted and twisted, pulling it in opposite directions. She could feel Penny beaming into her side as the blonde hummed in contentment.

Sure, Clara felt guilty, she did. But there were worse things than a little white lie. Not that Nadia deserved to be discarded off to the side or not that Penny deserved the lie. It was a small lie, a small lie to avoid awkwardness and questioning.

"I thought you had business?" Penny's voice snapped the girl out of her inner conflict as the blonde curled closer.

"Yeah...plans fell through, I guess." Clara mustered the best smile she could before her face dropped the minute Penny looked away from her.

Clara felt guilty. Unfathomably guilty. So guilty she'd thought she might be eaten whole by it.

Clara swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up as her ears rang as soft and vapid whispers began to seep through the door of the bedroom. She unwillingly concentrated on them as they swirled in a blizzard of ferocious heat, scalding every inch of exposed flesh and gripping onto the veins within. They tore through her eyes in shooting pains and ricocheted off of the walls in echoes of deceit and exuberant exasperation.

Her fingers clenched the sheets of the bed beneath her as Penny continued to talk into nothingness. The Shelby girl couldn't hear her. Her voice was lost amongst the denizens of despair within Clara's mind. Her eyes watered as she fixated on a singular point in the room. She was sure she was shaking, but she couldn't necessarily believe whether it was in her head or not.

She felt her nostrils flare and her eye twitch. The voices continued to grow and spread words of malice, words Clara could barely make out and decipher but she knew they were mocking her. They had to be. The voices shifted and spiralled in a technicolour flurry of misery, their hues ranging from deep dark blue to the brightest most insufferable reds. The voices flashed, each syllable sending white-hot heat towards Clara's eyes and face.

Her vision began to shut out off the bedroom around her as slithering shadows seeped into the edges of her peripherals. She shifted her jaw and clenched her teeth before her eyes shut and squeezed tightly and painfully.

"LOOK, I REALLY ENJOYED LAST NIGHT, CLARA," Penny started, as her hand clutched her small bag. Clara opened her heavy eyes. Where was she? "I really enjoyed the dancing, even though I didn't think I would—".

The girl's chest rose and fell as she looked around the blonde girl. Smoke billowed around them and engulfed them, almost hiding them from everyone's view. The train whistle rang throughout the platform, it was shrill and deafening. They were standing on the train platform in London...but how?

She'd just closed her eyes. She'd just barely blinked. How had..? What did..? Clara's face tensed as she ignored Penny's chatter. She looked for people around her before her eyes flitted toward the big clock just above the station. It was three o'clock.

It was three o'clock.

She'd arrived back at Ada's at eight-thirty precisely and she'd figured she'd spent thirty minutes talking with Penny before she...before she...

It was three o'clock.

Six hours had passed. Six hours of her life which she seemed to have conveniently forgotten.

Six whole hours.

Clara's head bowed and dropped to her chest. She still had business to deal with in London as well as trying to figure out what she'd unknowingly done within the past six hours.

But for now, Penny had to return home. Her head lifted as Penny stopped talking and looked expectedly towards her. Clara winced and looked back at the blonde.

"Yeah, I had fun," She managed to breathe out, her hands shoved deep in her pockets.

"Well...I better go," Penny's doe eyes remained on Clara's straight face as the Shelby girl stood firm and tall (or as tall as she could). Clara remained silent as Penny searched her face for any indication that she wanted to object.

"Yeah...you better," Clara looked towards the train. "Have a...uh, safe trip home, Angel..." Penny's brows furrowed as she looked down at her feet.

"Yeah, I will..." Penny sucked a breath in before she hugged the rigid Shelby girl. Her arms wrapped around Clara's waist forcing the Shelby girl to place her arms around Penny's neck to hold her close. They remained in the embrace for a moment. A moment so prolonged and endearing. To those around them, they looked like friends bidding one another goodbye, but to the two girls, they were everything and anything and all that came in between.

Clara found herself squeezing Penny, her head resting on the blonde's shoulder as she relaxed into the hug. Penny's arms tightened one last time before she withdrew from the embrace. Her hands lingered on the Shelby girl's arms, her fingertips lightly dragging over the skin in circles.

"I'll see you soon, right?" Penny breathed out, her tone was almost desperate.

"Yeah, you'll see me soon," Clara answered, her eyebrows pinched.

Penny took a deep breath in as the train whistle rang through the platform before she allowed her arms to drop to her side. "Goodbye, Clara," she murmured.

"Bye, Angel,"

Clara watched as the blonde climbed onto the train while Penny turned back multiple times to lock eyes with the Shelby girl. Clara waited until the train began to pull away before she turned her back to the platform.

She felt herself let out a deep breath which she knew she'd been holding since the day before. With Penny returning to Small Heath, Clara no longer had to hide her business or troubles. She could drink herself dry and swim in cocaine infested waters, see London as the blurry mess she knew it was.

She could try to figure out her insanity.

No, she wasn't insane. She couldn't be. She was a Shelby. The only insane Shelby was...no, no Shelby went truly insane. Just troubled. Insanely troubled.

Clara's thumb idly ran over the spot underneath her jacket material where her cigarette burn was. She'd managed to hide it from Penny under her shirt. She didn't want the blonde to worry. Worry meant reconsideration and Clara really didn't want Penny to reconsider anything.

The Shelby girl lit a cigarette as she walked past her car and down the street. She knew these roads like the back of her hand, she'd travelled this specific road far too many times to count. Her heeled shoes clattered against the cobblestoned road as her black jacket shrouded her and allowed heat to muster. Her hair was thrown up into a simple updo, tucked in by multiple pins pressing against her scalp.

Her smoke filled the air around her as she cut down a side street. Kids ran past her with hoops and sticks as they chased each other in the opposite direction. Clara kept her head down as she walked the side street and eventually emerged onto a road filled with houses and apartments one after the other.

The girl strode with her head down until the street ended. She stopped for a few moments as she looked up at the building to her left. All of the curtains were open in the front of the apartments, and a few of the windows at the top of the building, with one set of blinds which were firmly drawn. Clara would usually smirk but she found herself solemn as she strode towards the building, opening the front door with ease.

She travelled up the familiar flights of stairs, the smoke from her cigarette billowing. She'd walked these stairs many times before, mainly after nights out but also in times of respite. Once she reached the top floor, the sound of music filled her ears. Nadia was home and that was certain. Her knuckles didn't even have to touch the wooden door to the apartment before the music stopped and the door swung open.

Clara found herself trying to smile. It was a genuine attempt at a smile. One she couldn't always muster up. Nadia leaned against the doorway with her eyebrows pinched as her eyes examined the Shelby girl.

"What's wrong?" Nadia asked, her eyes narrowing on Clara's appearance.

"Can I come in...or..?"

Nadia moved inside and allowed Clara to follow. The Shelby girl obliged and shut the front door behind herself. Nadia's apartment allowed the sun to fill up the rooms completely. The white light from outside reflected off of the window panes strewing colour across the creaky wooden floors and furniture. The Shelby girl shrugged off her coat and hung it on the coat rack as she entered.

"Boots too," Nadia chided, not even sparing a glance at Clara as she returned to her work. The Shelby girl found herself leaning into the smile as she kicked off her boots, leaving her in her socks.

Clara walked towards Nadia who stood in front of a mannequin, which she'd taken from her job to work on at home. Nadia's face was scrunched in concentration as Clara watched her nimble fingers slip pins through the material.  Nadia looked tired and Clara felt guilty.

"You blew me off last night, Shelby," Nadia sighed as Clara stood and observed the girl work. "I waited and waited. I was ready and you blew me off. Then you call me and you sound like shit and you say you've business." The girl paused and turned to face Clara. "I deserved that phone call earlier...I deserved that."

"You did," Clara agreed, as she sat on Nadia's sofa. The seat was soft and welcoming. "and I'm sorry. You deserved the call earlier."

"Look, I know the kind of business you're wrapped up in," Nadia continued, "I've seen it with my own eyes, so I know it's not pretty, but Clara, last night you sounded awful. Take full offence if you'd like. You sounded...bad and despite the fact I'm angry at you, talk to me. Are you okay?"

Clara nodded halfheartedly from her place on the couch. "I'm fine," she pressed her lips into a forced smile. How would she even begin to explain everything? "I'm okay...I should've called you. I should've called you earlier."

"I'm not going to let you deflect the conversation," Nadia sat on the arm of the sofa, her hand brushing along Clara's jaw before she moved the jaw ever so slightly so that they were face to face. "You do that a lot."

"Look, I really am fine, like you said, business isn't pretty," Clara lied as smoothly as possible while she felt as if she was melting under Nadia's soft and questioning gaze. "I didn't have a particularly good night...or day, but I don't know." The last part was more of a mumble than a genuine attempt at conversation.

Nadia's nimble fingers traipsed down Clara's neck before she pulled the Shelby girl close so that her head was buried in Nadia's stomach. The Shelby girl leaned into the embrace, taking in every piece of comfort the Evans girl was offering.

"He who plays with fire and gets burned," Nadia hummed, and Clara tensed in the embrace. "Your business is dangerous and can hurt, but I like to think that you know that, and you just enjoy the thrill."

"I do," Clara admitted as she pulled away from the other girl.

"Yeah, you do," Nadia's lips lifted as she stood back up from the armrest, her hand still on Clara's face. "And the highs beat the lows, right? And you'd do everything all over again just to experience it."

Clara didn't answer as her eyes drifted shut in Nadia's touch. She remained like that as a small smile drew across Nadia's lips. Clara pressed a chaste kiss to Nadia's palm as she moved her head away from it.

"Do you ever feel like the world around you goes by and you don't remember any of it?" Clara whispered, her eyes lifting to meet Nadia's.

"From time to time," Nadia dropped her arm to her side as she returned to the mannequin. "London has that effect sometimes. You can feel like you know everything but nothing at all. Like you're constantly in the calm before the storm. Like the world turns but you remain rooted and unaware."

"Yeah," Clara's lips parted as a soft sigh left her lips.

"Do you want a drink? Tea, I mean, I don't have whiskey here," Nadia asked as she pinned another piece of material to the mannequin.

"Yeah...tea would be good," Clara sucked in a breath as her fingers fiddled.

"Okay..." Nadia didn't move from her workstation and at the lack of movement, Nadia turned to look at Clara with a cheeky glint in her eye. "Well I'm not making it, Shelby, get off your arse and do it yourself! You're the one who has to make up for last night."

Clara felt warmth rise to her cheeks as a faint smile was drawn across her face. She stood silently and made her way toward the kitchen to oblige the Evans girl. Nadia moved to the side and placed the needle back onto the record she'd been listening to previously, the melodious jazz of Marion Harris drifting through the gramophone. The music filled the apartment, ricocheting off of every cobwebbed corner and immersing the apartment with even more life than it previously held.

Nadia mindlessly sang along to the song as Clara moved the kettle above the flickering flame of the stove. It felt so domestic. Her brewing tea and Nadia working. It offered Clara a sense of solace that she'd yet to maintain within her grasp. Mindless tasks took her rushing thoughts out of her head and into the abyss as she focused on the tasks. They distracted her. And that was good.

Nadia was good.

This...this was good.

☆

[ to be thoroughly edited, so ignore grammar mistakes!]

BONJOUR MY BEAUTIFUL READERS!
How are you on this fine Friday?

I am currently going through a burnt out phase where I have ZERO inspiration for anything so that majorly sucks!

ANYWAYS, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll see you soon. Here's your weekly meme and a reminder that I LOVE YOU!