Fire and Ice (Thomas Shelby Fanfic)

The Garrison

I pushed open the doors to the Garrison with a grim expression.

    Was it because of my inspector? Was it because of the man and buggy? Was it because I promised myself I'd never set foot in this place? Well, we all know promises don't mean anything. I learned that when I left Sarah to die. I shook my head in attempts to clear my thoughts, small strands of my red hair falling out of its bun as I did so. I came here to forget not to remember! I scolded myself mentally as I took another step forward only to walk right into a mans shoulder.

"Oi watch it!"

I growled but I was not heard nor was I even noticed. Suddenly I was aware of the fact that a lot, if not all, of the men were standing and singing. I strained my neck to find the person who started the off key sing along, sneaking glances of a white blouse in between the tall men. But as soon as I'd started to search I stopped because the person whom I was looking for stood on a table to continue their song. My eyes narrowed in suspicion as I recognized the blonde from the station.

How did she get here before me? Why is she here? But soon her manly back up singers died off and all was silent except for her own voice ringing through the terrified crowd.

"Can't you see him standing there waving his handkerchief as merry as a robin that sings on the tree!"

My brows furrowed in confusion as I noticed the nervous expressions on the bars patrons faces. They all either looked as if they were about to piss themselves or that they were expecting a treacherous fate. Just then the sound of boots on wood grabbed my attention and a hesitant voice cut through the thick suspense.

"We haven't had singing in here since the war."

    A man with an apron on said. His statement was met with irritated blue eyes and a charcoal suit.

"Why do you think that is Harry?"

The suit asked, but it didn't sound like a question. With a nod of the suits head the crowd parted like the Red Sea as he and his men walked to a room that sat next to the bar. I followed in sync and stepped aside, although I was very reluctant to, and watched from the bar with a glass of whiskey in my hand as the Peaky Blinders entered the room one by one. I then realized I was the only one in the bar brave enough, or stupid enough, to look at them.

I downed my drink and softly set it on the counter before mumbling to Harry, the apron man, for another.

"On the house Miss West."

He muttered as he set another whiskey in front of me, I gave a curt nod and wrapped my slim fingers around the cup, just staring blankly at the brown liquid as if it would give me all of the answers I needed to feel better. I raised the glass to my lips but was stopped by the blue eyed suit who had caused such a fuss.

"Classy women don't tend to drink shots Miss West."

My fiery orbs met his icy ones in a clash of elements. I slowly lowered my glass half an inch, not breaking our eye contact the entire time.

"And classy men don't tend to judge Mr.Shelby."

I replied smoothly before throwing my head back and swallowing the whiskey in one gulp. My eyes were still locked with his as I set the glass on the counter and stood up from my seat.

"Goodnight Harry,"

I called, not looking back at the flustered bar tender as he hastily grabbed my empty glass and muttered a farewell. I then brushed shoulders with the Shelby leader, making sure he felt it before stopping next to him. My eyes focused on the door but the smirk on my lips focused on him.

"Goodnight, Mr.Shelby."

    I whispered, not waiting  for his reply as I strutted out of the bar and lightly closed the door. My presence in the bar was that of a ghost, it lingered and shocked those who experienced it, especially the ruthless gang leader. Nobody had dared even look at him during their first encounter. That was until he met me. A dry chuckle left my whiskey coated lips, letting a white cloud escape the plump skin and mix with the dark Birmingham air. I shoved my hands in my coat pockets as I stalked off into the night.

The dim alley engulfed me in a chilled hug as a breeze danced through my hair and sent a shiver down my spine. The moonless sky was littered with smoke and stars and it foretold a future that no one could possibly understand. Trouble is coming to Small Health, even the moon agrees. I tugged my coat tighter around my small form as an unsettling feeling aroused in my stomach. Blame the whiskey. Blame the Shelby's. Blame the inspector. Blame the blonde girl. Blame yourself.