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24 hours before Clara woke up.

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THOMAS SHELBY WAS TIRED.

His arms were atop the rests on either side of his chair, a cigarette in one and a glass of whiskey in the other. His eyes bore straight ahead of him at his mahogany desk and the boy who nonchalantly sat behind it. The pair waited for the other, not wanting to be the first to speak. Thomas Shelby was a busy man, he had far better things to do than entertain the conversation he was about to have.

"Where is she?"

Tommy sighed as William Clarke broke the silence. The younger boy's darkened eyes bore angrily into the man's, as he leaned forward in the seat.

"She's here," Tommy replied simply as he lifted his cigarette to his mouth.

"Well I ain't fuckin' seeing her, so obviously she's not," Will snapped. Tommy raised a brow as he examined the boy. He looked exhausted, his longer hair dishevelled, remnants of dirt and soot coated his face, barely visible but there nevertheless. His hands were bloody around the nails, his lips drawn back into a scowl.

"It's barely dawn," Tommy commented, as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Besides she's not awake yet."

"You think I don't know that? If she were awake you sure as hell wouldn't be sitting here cockily." He scoffed, his body slumping back against his seat. "I want to see her." Tommy looked rather unimpressed.

"You just finished at the factory?" Tommy asked while he waved his hand slightly and ignored Will's comments.

"Yes," Will gritted, his fist clenched by his side.

Will was no longer the lanky fourteen-year-old who was frightened of the Shelby man he had locked eyes with. He did not care for Tommy. In his books, Tommy was as good as the dirt on the bottom of his shoes, but he'd never verbalise that to Clara.

"Mhm...and how was it?"

"I'm not here to make conversation." The boy snapped, "especially not with you. I'm here to see her."

"So you've said," Tommy sighed dismissively, tapping the ash from the top of his cigarette. He looked the boy up and down once more. William Clarke had been a trusted family friend for years, and the family knew just how important he was to the youngest Shelby girl. "She's recovering, she needs time."

Will laughed harshly and slouched back into his seat.

"Something amusing?" Tommy questioned as Will bit back another laugh.

"She would've had time if you'd have bloody listened." His features dropped into a scowl. Tommy tilted his head at the boy and he couldn't help but wonder if Will had lent Clara his traits or if Clara had lent him hers. Or if they were simply the same side of the same coin.

"I listened," Tommy exhaled, his drawl infuriating the Clarke boy even further.

"So you just didn't care then?" Will's nostrils flared as the Shelby man looked toward him with utter disdain. The boy shifted in his seat in disgust. He did not care for falsities, not when it came to Clara and not when it came to what he had walked in on a mere night ago. Will leaned forward and lowered his voice. "A year ago...I told you a year ago she was using snow again. I told you a year ago it was getting dangerous, that I tried to stop her. I told you so you could try to help her."

Will remembered the day he showed up at Tommy's office a year ago all too well. He remembered coming from the factory, completely worn, but he was there for good reason. He had been there to ensure his best friend wouldn't become a ghost of the past. Will wasn't a snitch...nor was he a rat. He was simply a friend. A friend who had the want for Clara to survive. A want Clara, herself, seemed to lack. Tommy had remained calm at what Will had told him. He had said he would deal with it.

In Will's eyes, Thomas Shelby was a fucking liar. He didn't have to pay the price, Clara did. She did and she was still in an unresponsive state because of it. Will's jaw clenched tightly.

Clara was his best friend, his partner in crime, the fleeting joy between shifts at the factory, the reliable shoulder that was offered to him at all times. In his mind, she was his sister. They argued like family. They fought together like family. They trusted one another. She was an unmovable force that never strayed from his side despite the distance forcing itself between them. He saw her, and she saw him. Not because they desired one another romantically, this that would never happen, but because they truly admired each other but because the admiration only fueled the indescribable feeling of knowing she would choose him in a crowded room, and he would choose her.

Clara was a ray of sunshine to him and whilst many could not say the same, Will digressed. To many, Clara was simply the 'mad Shelby girl' with a gun, but to him? To him, Clara Shelby was the girl who had been with him through everything. And no matter the distance or time that passed, they would always and forever be Clara and Will. Their bond would outlast the obstacles of life and the supposed boundary that was death. Their friendship would be sure to last long after they were buried snug in the dirt surrounded by worms and beetles— Will was certain.

For they were Clara and Will and for them, anything felt possible.

And he needed to be with her now. He needed to be reassured that her family hadn't left her to rot like they had the night before.

"She upstairs..." Tommy began,

"Good," Will pushed himself off his seat.

"You can see her, provided you tell me exactly what happened last night." The man finished, as he inhaled another cloud. Will rolled his eyes at the man and his dramatics.

"I already told you," he gritted, "she called me high off her head, talking of the voices she hears and how she doesn't want to be like that anymore." Will paused. He had left out a crucial detail of their conversation. Clara had told him about Penny. However as of right now, it didn't matter to him. He wanted to see her.

"And..?" Tommy questioned, noticing the falter in the boy's words. Will gulped as he wracked his brain for something he hadn't said.

"She also mentioned...that she saw her mother," Will pieced together slowly as his eyes flitted over the older man's features which appeared to be as calm as always. "And that she'd seen her mother before that too."

Tommy pursed his lips slightly, "She saw our mother?" He asked as his brows furrowed ever so slightly.

"Yeah...and apparently it wasn't the first time." Will's eyes bore into Tommy Shelby. "Now, where is she?"

Tommy didn't move instantaneously. He paused to deliberate everything that Will had said. Seeing visions of the dead was no good sign. More so when the person seeing them had the vaguest memories of said dead. It was troubling to think about. Each and every moment that Tommy sat in contemplation, Will was growing more and more infuriated. He jumped to his feet and stormed out of the office, not wanting to wait another second for the impossible man to keep thinking. He didn't know where he was going but he would check every goddamn room in this house if he had to.

"Will," Tommy called after him as the boy bounded up the stairs. Will didn't falter as Tommy huffed and went after him as he disappeared upstairs.

Will's feet hastily carried him along the hall, his hands gently pushing open doors a crack as he passed. Tommy found him easily enough and followed him while the boy continued to push open doors.

"She's at the very end of this hall, on the left," Tommy supplied, taking out another cigarette and lighting it. He flicked his lighter flame out before he slipped it into his pocket. He followed behind the boy as he practically ran towards the last door and disappeared behind it. Tommy pinched his nose as he slowly approached the room. He stood outside the large door, his eyes drifting through the small gap. Will had immediately crouched beside the bed, his head bowed low as Clara remained still, the only semblance of life Tommy recognized was the rising and falling of her chest.

As Tommy watched Will whisper and mutter to his unconscious youngest sister, Tommy couldn't help but feel helpless. He'd tackled countless problems like the one at hand, but Clara had never been the one to cause them. Not his Clara. He had over seen every step of her life, she wasn't supposed to do something like this. She was supposed to be the family's diamond child, glistening and intricate yet tough and unyielding to her surroundings.

Tommy should've listened to Will. He should've acted on the problem a year ago instead of turning a blind eye. Things could be different. She wouldn't have to be in a comatose state with potential damage to vital organs and he wouldn't have to watch as her best friend offered her more comfort than he could.

He and Clara had always had a rocky relationship but now it felt as if the world had dropped a mountain between them, each craggy cliff face taunting him with what could have been. He told himself this was natural. And in many ways it was. As one grows, their former connections strain as one makes new ones, it was a vital factor in growing up. But sometimes, just sometimes he missed it. He missed being able to trust her without doubt, but time had made Thomas Shelby a cynic. He didn't trust as easily, and he certainly didn't rely on others. And of course, this was only fortified after Grace. So, Tommy had to let the connection strain against the constraints of time, for once he hadn't fought.

He sighed as he turned away from the door. He had tried to make Clara better. Make people question if she was actually a Shelby offspring. He wanted her to be better, hell, he did everything he could to try to make her so. He pushed her to make better choices, to get a better education, a better life...now look where they had ended up. 

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CLARA TUGGED ON THE LOOSE COLLAR of her shirt as her hands trembled. It had been two days since she'd woken up and it seemed like every one of her brothers had shown up at her door at least once, their eyes remorseful and downtrodden. She had greeted all of them with hatred, not even allowing any of them to come close to her. The only people who had been allowed in were Will and Finn and even then she hadn't spoken to them until completely necessary or until they had pleaded with her to open up.

Clara did not want to be open. She wanted to close all gates and hide behind them in her fortress of gloom and despair. She wanted to wither in an old chair built on deceit and rot slowly and precisely. She wanted to live a life of solitude and if she ever, ever saw Thomas Shelby it would be too soon.

Clara never thought she could ever hold so much resentment for her older brother, hell if you'd told her younger self that she despised Thomas Shelby, she'd laugh. She couldn't quite fathom how deeply she had grown to dislike her brother as a man. Because he was not the man who had taught her so much. He was a ghost. A spectre of everything lost. She hated him. She hated him so much that she hated every single drop of blood that rushed through her veins for the mere reason that it linked her to him.

Clara's once bright eyes met their reflection in the brass-lined mirror. Her eyes looked dim, her cheeks hollow and pale. The girl felt worse than ever. The effects of her supposed withdrawals drawing out in the form of complete irritability and the shakes as Will had described them. The two of them had been avoiding talking about anything to do with that night or what she'd admitted. They would speak eventually...just not in this house under the watchful eyes of her brothers.

The girl looked sickly. Sickly and weak. She felt frail as if each of her bones could crumble to dust under any weight. Clara took in a shallow breath as she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head slightly to rid the dull ache that was forming. She grabbed her tattered red cardigan, one she'd had for far too long but continued to wear from time to time. Finn must've dropped it over from Watery Lane. She slipped over each arm, letting the warmth engulf her as she sunk into the fabric. She took another shaky breath in as she tucked her hair behind her ears and moved towards the bedroom door.

The halls of Arrow house felt even more ghostly as Clara's footsteps echoed down the hall. There wasn't a single sound from anywhere else in the house. Her arms folded over her chest as she walked. This was the first time she'd been out of her room alone and unsupervised. She felt unsteady on her feet as if she were learning to walk all over again. Her eyes remained straight ahead of her despite the paranoia that wracked her tired mind. Her feet carried her down the main staircase, the portrait of Tommy watching her with every step.

Clara let her feet touch the flat wooden floor at the bottom of the stairs as she drifted toward the kitchen. She hoped that she would be able to make food that wasn't lavishly made or monitored, perhaps scavenge for a bowl of cereal. As the girl approached the kitchen she faltered. The door was closed but chatter echoed out from behind it. Clara looked around tentatively before she approached the door and pressed an ear up against it.

"Charlotte will want the best..." Michael spoke as his voice echoed through the kitchen.

"She is the best." John voice followed. Clara's eyebrows scrunched together as she tried to piece together what they were talking about. "Used to be a nurse. Twenty minutes. Done."

"And you don't have to go to in or wait outside. You go to the Garrison. Drink whisky. Have a laugh. Remember, John?" Arthur's voice joined the conversation, "And then this kid walks in, no shoes on, says, "it's done'. Second time we was in there. Same kid, this time he is wearing shiny new shoes. And he shouts, 'It's done, Arthur.'"

"And what?" John questioned. Clara's face scrunched up as she suddenly gathered what they were talking about. She shook her head slightly. They talked of these things so nonchalantly. They talked as if a decision like this was solely up to them and them alone.

"She bought new shoes with the money I gave her. It was for a good cause." Arthur finished.

"Arthur? If you are going to get on like this with the Apaches, they'll fucking scalp you, boy." Johnny Doggs retorted. Clara rolled her eyes and moved closer to the door. Suddenly the door creaked and opened slightly, revealing a sunken Clara standing eavesdropping in the doorway. The girl straightened up as all of the men in the room snapped their heads towards her.

"Clara!" John spoke, his eyes amused and knowing as if he'd been completely aware of her presence this entire time, even though she was sure he hadn't. There was a small crease between John's brows, a crease she often recognised from her own features. He was worried.

"Sister," Arthur gruffly coughed, avoiding her gaze as he looked down. It took all her might not to shrivel at the awkward greeting.

"I'm getting food," she simply stated, "continue whatever fucked conversation you were having." Clara moved through the kitchen towards the back of the room as she opened cupboards and drawers in search of anything edible. She felt the men's eyes follow her as she rooted. "Or just sit and stare like idiots until I leave?"

"Clara, come sit," John called, beckoning her over with the hand his cigar was perched in. The girl turned to face them, her unamused face glancing between all of them. Reluctantly, she walked towards them and sat beside Arthur at the table, with John in front of her. "You doing okay, Clara girl?"

Clara let out a frustrated huff. "Yes," she snapped, folding her arms as she leaned back into the seat. "Are you?"

"Look, we're just worried Clara girl," Arthur began, his hand placing itself on her shoulder as he spoke. "You know, that stuff is–" He was cut off by Clara's loud chuckle.

"Sorry...sorry," she laughed harshly, as her face dropped. "But are you seriously about to give me a motivational talk? No. Fuck off. I'm not being lectured by a man balls deep in the same problem all of you claim I have." She abruptly stood from her seat. "Get a grip, Arthur."

"Look, that's not what he was going to say," John sighed as he watched her roll her eyes.

"Don't cover for him," she scoffed, "I'm fine and you know what, I'm not hungry anymore." The girl went to leave before she was blocked by John. "Move!"

"Clara girl, just listen to me for a bloody second," John's frustration seeped through his words as she dug her elbow into his arm. His hands gently placed themselves on her arms.

"Stop calling me that!" She grunted, but just as she was about to continue a bell tolled through the kitchen.

"Tommy said when that bell rings we've to all go to the big room," Johnny announced as he downed the rest of his drink and jumped off the countertop he was sitting atop of. "Come on. Tommy has a plan."

John's eyes did not leave Clara's piercing glare as his hand lightly gripped her upper arm. "I've lost my appetite," she snarled, as she shoved past her brother and followed Johnny out. Once they reached the grand staircase once more, just as she set foot up the stairs, a voice called out after her.

"Clara, my office." She didn't even have to turn around to know that Tommy had disappeared once more.

She gritted her teeth in frustration as she watched Johnny and John disappear into the office behind Michael. Arthur was still lagging behind as she entered the office. Her posture was straight and her arms were folded. Her jaw clenched immediately as Tommy sat on his grand little throne behind his desk. The girl felt a fuse ignite within. She glared at her brother hoping he felt each and every dagger she was shooting at him.

"Clara!"

The girl jerked her head towards the heavy voice.

"Alfie," she calmly nodded in greeting at the man. The Jewish man still wore his coat and hat as he walked along the bookshelves. The sight of him made her almost smirk, knowing of his past, rocky relationship with a certain eldest Shelby.

"Lookin' worse for wear, aren't ya" he commented as the girl rolled her eyes.

"Not looking the shiniest either are you?" She replied as he let out an amused laugh. All laughter ceased however as Arthur entered the office.

"Arthur!" Alfie jovially exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. Clara watched as her eldest brother began to breathe rapidly and angrily, his fists clenched. He moved to leave the room. "Arthur?"

"Arthur, come here," Tommy instructed as he stood up.

"Shalom!" Alfie declared, "Arthur, shalom!"

"Alfie." Arthur greeted with hostility as he approached the Jewish man.

"Shalom...Come here. Come on. Listen...I owe you a little something, don't I?" Alfie spoke as if he were speaking to a petulant child. It amused Clara and almost made her enjoy being in the room, to be honest. "I do. Come on. Sit down. Come on, sit down here. There you go."

The two men sat side by side on the armchairs and the tension began to grow rapidly. Clara had to stop a cynical smile from traipsing across her face.

"Right, listen, Arthur." Alfie cleared his throat, "I want you to know, right, that whatever happened between us, yeah? Back then...That was business. It was just business. All right?" Arthur looked as if he was going to shoot Alfie and then himself. "And I also want you to know that I have made my apologies via my own God for abusing a very holy day to get you clinked up and battered, which I did."

"And, now, I would also like to extend my personal apologies unto you. All right?" Alfie continued, Clara had to admire the lengths the Jewish man was going to just to rile up her eldest brother. "I hear that you have allowed Jesus to come into your life.

"Oh, you heard then," Arthur responded stiffly,

"Yeah. That is beautiful. That is wonderful. That is lovely, isn't it?" Alfie drawled, "That is lovely. But I was wondering, how does that work for you on a day-to-day considering your line of work, mate?"

There was a beat of silence, everyone waiting to see how Arthur would react.

"Your apology's accepted." Arthur gruffly forced out.

"'Cause I hear you're a right fucking nuisance with it." The Jewish man paused as Arthur sucked in an angered breath, his hand reached and grabbed a glass ashtray on the side table. Clara folded her arms tighter over her chest, her eyes narrowed on the scene unfolding in front of her.

"Hello...Listen, all I am saying is that, every man, he craves certainty. He craves the certainty, even if that certainty of yours, right...Well, I mean...It's fucking fanciful mate, innit?" Alfie seemed to be analyzing every move the eldest Shelby was making. "Eh?"

"I'm Old Testament." Arthur gritted eventually while his body vibrated in rage. Clara found herself rolling her eyes as she shifted her position.

"Fucking hell. Look at that." Alfie chortled, glancing between Tommy and Arthur as his finger pointed at the eldest Shelby. "Now, that...That scares me more...Yeah, congratulations, Tommy. You now have the finished article right here, don't you? See, that man, right? He will murder and maim for you with God on his side. You don't want to let him go."

"If we're gonna do business with this fucker, I demand to know why." Arthur hissed. Clara was becoming rather bored of this. Bored of this meeting, bored of Arthur, bored of Tommy's presence, bored of Arrow House. Bored.

"Right..." Tommy began as he leaned against his desk. Clara felt her body drain of energy as he spoke. "While I was in the hospital—Clara, where are you going?" He spoke as if she were creating a hole in his plan. She hoped she was. She hoped she ripped a huge gaping gap in whatever he had devised.

The girl had moved towards the door, unable to be within breathing distance of Thomas Shelby. Her shaky fingers held the wooden frame of the door as the man's sigh echoed through the quiet room.

"To go find a bloody gun," she sneered coldly, turning her back on her brother and leaving the room.

She had to get out of this house.

She had to. It was either stay here and longer with the ghosts of Tommy Shelby's past or leave and wither elsewhere (hopefully alone). It was a simple choice really. And so she sniffled slightly before she retreated upstairs to plan her great escape.

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HELLO MY GORGEOUS READERS, I MUST APOLOGISE! I've been so busy recently with school and projects, that I haven't been able to update!

ANYWAYS, Will told Tommy about Clara's addiction over a year ago?!? And Tommy did nothing?! SMH... this is a Tommy hate club atm, I won't lie. (Redemption may come for him but you must understand that he is also struggling a lot with other issues...anyways I'm team Clara and Will)

ANYHOW, I LOVE YOU ALL (and here's your weekly meme!)