two - give me grief

November 24, 1934

I wasn't allowed to see his body due to the mass trauma brought to the head. Dr. Baldwin advised us to not put ourselves through that kind of pain. Said it would only worsens things. scar us. I believed him, and took his advise, despite how painful it was.

I think that was the hardest thing about all of this. He's gone, and I miss him with every beat of my heart, but to not say goodbye? It just wasn't right. I wish with all my heart I could see Tommy one more time.

This morning I got a visit from the Small Heath police department and investigative unit, alongside a few journalists one of the housekeepers shewed away. I hadn't slept at all, an unsettling loneliness kept my mind awake.

The officers confirmed Thomas Shelby's death as a homicide with tears in some of their eyes, and explained, to their best knowledge the night of my husbands death.

They started off by telling me that he was alone, and didn't die a slow, painful death. After spending a few hours at the Company office, he decided to go to The Garrison to have a few drinks by himself. Tommy didn't even make it to the pub when two, maybe three men ambushed him in the middle of the empty alleyway. They murdered him. My husband died in the cold street.

The police are unclear as to who they might have been. But my husband was shot eighteen times according to the forensic and investigative team. The first shot was fatal, the other seventeen were just extra I guess.

I imagine my husband was brave. As he always is. But something else, something I want to shut up, is telling me that he was scared and cold. Alone.

"Whoever did this is going to pay, Misty." Arthur's voice is hoarse. He sounds in pain as he says those words to me. He's said this line to me at least a dozen times today.

Putting his hand on my back, Arthur is just as bad emotionally as I am. We've been sat together for a long period of time, him and I. Demanding to see the body, but no luck. He sniffles. "I promise you that."

I nod, numbly moving my feet out and my hands on the arm chair. I push myself to stand and manage in a stumble. Everything I do is a miracle.

Getting up is an outer body experience. Hell, even getting up this morning was so damn hard on my body - I don't know how I managed to do it. I'm numb, sorrowful, but filled with numbness, more than anything. It's like he's taken my life with him too.

"Where are you-" He gets up and follows after me. "Misty, where are you going?"

"Home." I don't give him the energy he's given me.

My eyes are at a low level, I walk with my back hunched. I didn't get any sleep last night. How the hell could I have with the thought of Tommy walking into the home kept on going on. Wrapping his arms around me. The smell of him. His voice. I'll never see that again. Never feel that again.

I press my hand to my head and look down, my eyes watering. I sniffle, trying to control myself. It's been hard though.

"Hey, come on, Misty, we need to see Tommy's body. We need to say goodbye, we-we-"

"No. We don't." Fucking Shelby's are so damn stubborn. "Arthur, just go home."

"I'm taking you home." He rubs his eyes. "You think they'll stop with just killing Tommy? This is war."

I scoff, clicking the button to the elevator. Leaning my back against the wall, I inhale the terrible scent of cold death. My eyes roll back, all I want to fucking do is sleep.

The elevator comes in time and we head inside it, it takes us up and out of here. I'm in the car with Arthur, there is a small brown paper in my hands that reads Tommy's death certificate. His name is in fancy writing, it looks as though he's perhaps won some sort of award.

There's a note under it that reads Baldwin's number for when a funeral is arranged for my Tommy. It'll have to be closed casket, I still remember Dr. Baldwin's voice.

"Who did this to my husband?" I ask once he begins to drive. The roads are slippery with rain. Arthur takes it slow. Staring out the window, I imagine how quiet it must be outside. No one occupies the street, everything is... quiet. Tears roll down my face, just like the rain that rolls down the car. I can't control it, but I don't mind.

He clears his throat, "I reckon it had somethin' to do with the new Italians who-"

"No." I shake my head. Tommy would have told me if there were any troubles with the Italians. No, whoever did this to Tommy did it for a reason. To get the message across. This was someone who wanted him dead.

I get a sick feeling in my stomach and look down at my trembling hands that rest in my lap.

"Whoever did this wanted him to die and never come back. This was an attack, a hate fuelled attack. Whoever did this, they wanted get the point across, they-they-" My bottom lip trembles and I look down, unable to help my emotions as they get the best of me.

Who in their right mind would do such a thing? It's been years since the Changretta saga. Years. And Tommy's been working with Alphonse selling his liquor. There is no reason for the Italians to harm him.

We reached a halt, which meant I was trapped back at home. The sky is still filled with heavy clouds of grey. I want to crawl into bed with the windows open.

"I don't know," He says in a slump. I can feel his eyes on me. "But we'll figure it-"

"Out?" I ask, turning my head and raising my eyebrow at him.

"Yeah," He nods, smiling small. "We will, we always do."

For the first time in a day, I feel my top lip curl up into a pitiful smile. "Thank you, Arthur."

He stares blankly at me before nodding. "O-of course. You're our family."

I'm reminded of mine and Tommy's wedding night, I look away remembering Tommy's blue eyes never leaving mine throughout the day.

A knock sounds at my window and I jump, turning my head to see Polly and Michael. Michael's got his jacket over his head as Polly holds up her umbrella. I roll down my window, looking at Pol.

"Thank God you're here, the lawyers been waiting for you lot. Come inside!" She commands, nodding towards my house.

"The lawyers?" I ask, my gaze narrowing. For what?

Arthur pops open his door, Polly goes around the car to greet him as Michael Gray looks at me. He holds open the door, sacrificing his jacket and putting it over my head.

"Why are the lawyers here, Michael?"

He looks at me, "It's time to figure out who Tommy's put in his will."