Cliona had been back in Birmingham for a week, and everything was positively wrong. And perhaps also the fact that the mafia had her name in bold on their hitlist. She was on edge, looking over her shoulder, when she managed to leave the house. The woman had took up residence in Thomas Shelby's house, the one that was once her sisters, the prospect still hurting the curves of her heart. Her black brogue shoes clanged upon the wooden floor, as she made her way up the large halls of the house hold. Cliona landed upon a room, her fingers with three silver rings spread across them, wavered on the equally wooden door, before the brunette disappeared into the room, that was desolate. Perfume bottles sat still containing the smelling liquid, beads of pearl and gold, hung from the mirrors. Nothing had been touched in the two years that their owner had left the earth. The sisters hands slipped over everything longingly and with care, feeling the dead woman's presence. Cliona had no more tears left to cry, for the woman she loved and looked up to most in the world, but her heart ached all the same. A creak at the door, made her head look up quickly, to meet the blue eyes of Thomas Shelby, her body quickly moving away from Grace's belongings. It was still his room after all.
"I'm sorry I-" she went to apologise, but he only shook his head sitting down on the bed wearily. He watched her, with a look she'd never seen on his face before. Something of admiration. A look that said I see you and I understand how you feel. She slowly sat down beside him staring forward with a sigh.
"How long's it been?" He questioned, and she knew exactly what he meant. She also got the impression, that he didn't remember the last years as well as she had. He drowned himself in coke and whiskey, but Cliona felt everything.
"2 years and 3 months" She whispered feeling his gaze on her harden
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A silence rocked over the room, that made the woman feel uncomfortable, not because it was awkward, but if it were to be silent anymore, she'd surely start to cry. "I wish I had an aunt like Polly" She spoke after awhile, meaning to go on. "I have uncles and cousins but they're not bothered with me. So distant, I'm not even sure I call it fit for them to be pronounced as family. My mam, she was a lot like Polly actually" Her curls bounced as she let out a nostalgic laugh "But she was so fucking sad, my father beat her you know?" The freckles upon her nose were a little visible from under her makeup, her face falling at the mention of her mother. To be truthful, Grace had never spoke about her mother to Thomas, and Thomas on his research of Grace, never found anything about her. Surely, Thomas could be called a violent man, but Cliona believed that he would never be like her father. He swore at her a lot, but she swore nearly as much at him. But he never hurt her, or Grace. "It drove her mad. She died in a mental institution in Dublin" Cliona continued, and he listened, hearing a side of her, he never knew. She spoke slow and blank, no emotion visible on her face at present. "I was only 16. Things like that mess with your head. And then the war came." She let out another laugh, but a tear fell down her cheek quickly with it. Unexpectedly Thomas's fingers wiped over her cheeks, brushing the tear away. Her eyes met his, unsure of the action.
"My mother died when I was young" He commented his eyes resting on her, as hers on his.
"Yeah?" She whispered.
And then they were kissing. Kissing, with a passion that had lay in the pit of Cliona's stomach for a very long time, even if she didn't know. Before his lips met hers again, she pulled back, landing a slap across his cheek. The second time it had happened. This time harder, and with confusion.
"Do you kiss all woman that you come across, Thomas Shelby?!" Her voice rose a little louder than she had expected it to go. He couldn't help but chuckle standing up abruptly.
"Only ones that want it" Fuck. She did. She had no excuses, no blaming it on alcohol. Cliona stood up abruptly as well, heading to the door.
"I can't do this. I've got to go" Was all she spoke, before hurrying out the door, before he followed after her, calling her name, his voice getting louder as she ran down the stairs.
"Cliona, god's sake" He yelled as she arrived into the entrance of the house, running across the red carpet. "Cliona!" His voice rose once more, if it were possible for him to get any louder at this time of night. He went to grab her shoulder, but a silver revolver pressed to his chest hard, sure to make a mark.
"Please, Tommy, I can't- Grace wouldn't want this" She shook her head, tears threatening to spill down her redden cheeks. And then, he immediately understood why she had reacted the way she did. She felt she was betraying her sister. To him, of course it was unconventional, but he believed Grace would want them to be happy, and he'd always had something for the younger girl. There was always something there. Not love in the past, but now it roared with a new fire. Before he could say any more, Mary the maid walked down the stairs, concerned with all the commotion.
"Everything alright, Mr Shelby?" Thomas let out a heavy sigh with a nod telling the woman to go back to bed, which she obliged to. He then made his way over to the woman, who for the first time in her life, looked fragile. His hands went to withdraw the gun from her slim fingers, before his arms wrapped her into his chest silently. At first she screamed a thousand swear words, struggling against his overpowering strength.
"Is it because I look like Grace, that's it. Isn't it?" The man could only shake his head reserved.
"You know that's not true" Cliona was the opposite of Grace in every other way, except being of the same blood. She finally fell limp, sobbing, favouring his embrace. Thomas lifted her, her head covered with her messy brown hair, as he carried her gently up the stairs, and down the corridor. And it was exactly then, that Cliona Burgess realised that she was completely in love with the man.
