C3 - Dreams

Twenty years ago

The first time I had met Thomas Shelby, I was twelve and he was fifteen. He had a fascination with horses and wouldn't stop ranting about them to me. Lucky for him, mum had a few ponies in the ranch. So that's where we spent our time, it was a breezy summers day. Birds were chirping, the farm animals were living their best lives. I had spent my days outside, especially given the lovely climate. The sun warmed my skin up, giving me a glow that was unfamiliarized by me. I was so used to having such pale skin in the winter and fall seasons. Finally, summer had come.

I found it a bit odd with Thomas. I had known Arthur because all of the girls fancied him and his recklessness. Thomas was more of the obscure, shy, reserved. He didn't speak much, and when he did it was to talk about the farm animals we had. He was funny, and made me laugh. But when things got quiet between us - things stayed that way. I made it apparent that I was nervous around the ponies. After all, one had bit me when I was a child. Pulling me away from playing with them.

"I want to own a horse, someday." He had told me, running his fingers over its hair, "Perhaps two if I have the means to."

I found myself smiling like a little girl seeing him take proper care of our pony. He turned around and looked at me curiously. "Why are you standing behind me?"

I froze, looking into those blue eyes. With the fact that I was younger than a boy older than me who was beautiful and gentle and charming, I couldn't help but blush. "I'm a little scared of them."

He laughed at me, it was brief, "Why? They're harmless creatures."

"Says you."

He chuckles before reaching for my hand. "Here," He steps beside me, I take a step towards the pony. Thomas moves out of the way, allowing me to stand close to the animal. He flattens out my palm against the pony's hair, and slowly, he lets go of my hand. "See, harmless."

Thomas strokes the pony's face, patting lightly. "They're the most innocent things." He whispers, the pony cuddles into Thomas's hand. "Hey, hello there."

Thomas turns to me, my heart fills with a foreign feeling of love. It doesn't make much sense, I had just met the kid! To this day, I think it were those eyes.

* * *

When I wake up, I find that I am laying in a bed foreign to me. I move my fingers under the pillow my head lays on, feeling the leather gloves around each of my hands. The same gloves mum had given me that are meant to protect me from feeling other people's emotions. But it's too late, I know exactly how Grace will die. And I know exactly how that'll ruin Thomas's character. I know too much already.

The man's already lost, but what'll happen when the person who showed him even a sliver of light dies?

"What happened to her?" Thomas asks. He hovers over me. I push my head into the pillow, squeezing my eyes shut.

My father, "She just fainted."

"Why?" There is pacing. Thomas is upset, but more than anything, he's concerned for me. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know." He tells him. "She took off her gloves, I don't know why she did that. I guess things got overwhelming for her once she did."

"Hm." He replies simply. Speaking volumes. He's in denial. He decided to speak our native language, Romani, I understand him perfectly. "I guess you really believe she's like her mother then."

"She is exactly like her mother." My father states, and I imagine Thomas rolling his eyes.

He always has been such a skeptic. I thought maybe not anymore, because I had been the one to tell him he's success will be overwhelming. I was the one who told him he won't just own one horse, but fifty if he had wanted to.

"I don't want to distract you from your own wedding, Thomas," My father says. "Please, I have her here safe."

There is silence. I hold my breath. "You're right." Clearing his throat, Thomas disappears.

My father runs his fingers over my hair before sighing. "Oh Bria," He takes a seat on the bed beside me, he speaks to himself, what did you see in that arse?

His thoughts come to me, making me giggle helplessly. He jumps, I open my eyes. My father couldn't approve of any man I had brought to him.

"Jumping Joseph!" My father shouts. "You startled me!"

"Dad!" I laugh, sitting up to wrap my arms around him. I give him a big hug, still chuckling away at his twisted face, "I'm sorry, dad."

"Were ye eavesdropping on us?"

"I didn't mean to." I look down at my gloves before looking up at him. "You've never admitted to anyone that I carry the same abilities as mum."

He breaks into a smile. "Because I didn't want my little girl to get hurt like her mum did. But yer such a fine young lady, I ought to share it with a prude like Thomas Shelby."

"Dad." I pout, my throat aching. Mums death was a terrible injustice to her beauty and glory. Dad was crushed, I was broken.

"Now there's no need to for the waterworks, ey?" He smiles crookedly. "What do you say we get out of here?"

I chuckle, "I wouldn't want anything more."

The next morning, it's dad and I at a bakery.

"Why are you spending yer money here?" He looks around, annoyed with how young the atmosphere is.

I cross my legs, sipping on my tea as dad chews on a scone. "Because I like supporting local businesses." I watch him, "You're quite the critic dad."

He sighs, taking a bite of my muffin. "I missed having yer company, Bria."

"I missed you too, daddy." I move my hand on top of his and smile.

"Have you decided to stay in Birmingham? I ain't getting any younger, dear. I could use the help."

I scoff, "Look who's ego has settled down! The last time we spoke about your health, you told me not worry."

He blushes, my father has never admitted to any kind of illness he's got. Even when he had the common flu, and mum had offered to rub frog blood and dandelion root on his chest, he wouldn't have it.

"What do you want me to youse tell, ey? That I miss ya, because I do!" He admits, meeting my eyes.

I melt. My father, so good and pure. Always that way, always so loving towards me and mum.

"The truth is seeing you standing on that platform so many years ago, compared to seeing you now. Wow." He grins at me, his eyes smiling at me. And whenever my father smiled, his eyes went small and those adorable creases on the side of his eyes showed. He had aged, but it was beautiful the type of little old man he's become. "Yer a woman and I don't want you to go back into the world."

"Well, I'm lucky to have been raised such great parents." I almost want to take my gloves off and feel his hand against mine.

"Noooo. Yer mum was too busy makin' potions and yer dad spent too much time working. It was always you, and I count my lucky stars to given such an angel daughter."

"No! You and mum worked to put food on the table." I correct him, leaning back. "So don't you dare, mister!"

He also leans back laughing that laugh of his, raising his hands defensively at me but once he does this. My father freezes, his eyes going wide as pain rolls down his body. He winces, and grabs his chest, staring into my eyes for the last seconds of his life, begging me to help him before dropping face first onto the table.