ANTONY & CLEOPATRA → ALFIE SOLOMONS

"i thought i lost you"

tw// kidnapping, cutting, blood, violence & cussing!! be safe kids!!!!!

The breath is knocked out of both of them with the force that they collide with. Hands grip the back of t-shirts and palms are pressed up and undershirts, holding them close, feeling the warmth of their skin. Palms are pressed to cheeks, thumbs swiping away tears until their mouths collide messily, the world seems to disappear around them.

Being a Shelby for the better part of 30 years has desensitized you to kidnappings.

The first time you were kidnapped was when you were four. Your father got into some trouble with a gang of Welsh bandits, and when he refused to pay them any money he owed, they grabbed you while you were in the playground at school. Arthur and Tommy, who were just barely teenagers, had stolen some pistols and went after you, bringing you home safely after less than 24 hours. You hadn't gone to school for nearly a month after that, and when you did return, John was forced to hold your hand and walk you to and from school. That lasted up until your fifth year.

The next time was when you were twelve. Your mother had just passed, and it was evident that war was looming. Your three elder brothers were at a prime age for enlistment, and you knew that if a war did break out, they would be sent to fight. Despite yourself, arguments and fights broke out amongst you and your siblings more often than not, and nowadays it wasn't unusual for the lot of you to not be speaking to each other.

John, though academically inclined, had been stupid enough to steal a bundle of colored pencils and smooth parchment for his little siblings from the most wealthy shop owner in Small Heath. He ran for his life, sheets of parchment flying from under his arm and landing in the mud and horse-shit that littered the streets. When he got home, Arthur had beat him bloody, but John knew it was worth it when he saw Ada and Finn curled up by the fire, drawing each other. You were sat in the armchair, over-looking the scene with your own pencils between your fingers, lightly sketching out John's cut-up face as he grinned at you.

It was not two days later that you were taken from the front yard while watering Polly's plants. Again, your brothers went in with their guns and threats and got you back without a scratch on your head. After that, Tommy had made sure you never left the house without a loaded weapon or at least a sharp knife.

Fifteen years had gone by without another incident like that. You were with Alfie now, and you had just begun to leave your weapons at home when you went out to do ordinary things. It was quite stupid of you, really, to take comfort in the illusion of safety. You should have known, like a Shelby or a Solomons, there would always be somebody after you.

It was because of your own naivety that you were sitting in a damp cellar somewhere, bound at the hands and ankles, staring at the dark ceiling as a group of Italians discussed what to do with you in their mother tongue. Realistically, you should have been scared. Sabini and his men were dangerous; dangerous enough that Alfie had warned you many times not to stray too close to the border. But you had been in positions like this before. You gave it about another hour before someone came for you.

"You don't look very scared." Your head tilted down so that you could peer into the eyes of the man who had grabbed you on your way out of the market. "Do I need to remind you who we work for, Mrs. Solomons?"

"Actually, I'm still Ms. Shelby," you corrected with a small sigh. "The wedding was pushed back again, thanks to the man you work for, actually. Well, him, and the Rabbi."

A look of confusion and frustration flickered across the man's face before it smoothed out into a void mask once again.

"And for the record, I don't look scared because I'm not scared."