CHAPTER 4
RETROUVAILLES
❝ The joy of meeting or finding someone again after a long time. ❞
London Bridge Station
As she watched the blurred, foggy streets pass before her eyes, Andrea De La Cour couldn't help but think that God must have certainly forgotten London when he went to paint the world. It was as if every colorful and vibrant brushstroke had gone to every other city, leaving the Big Smoke in a permanent state of dullness and bleakness.
It didn't help that the rain was falling heavily on the train windows, or that thick, murky clouds gathered together in the dark sky, paving the way for a dreadful storm. Andrea tried not to take it as a bad omen of her arrival. She wanted this to work. Her brother was in England, building a safe future for them, and it was her duty not to bring France into it. As far as she knew, safe futures couldn't be built over the flimsy foundations of the past.
Suddenly, an abrupt, shrill whistle pulled Andrea out of her thoughts as the train jerked to a stop and the people around her frenziedly picked their luggage and rushed to the exit. Andrea was the only one who didn't move, standing still for a few seconds, disoriented. She wasn't used to all that movement, the agitation. And as the sky shook with electricity, so did her heart, longing for the quiet streets of her town, for the familiarity she had left behind and was afraid she'd never again find. But just because London wasn't her home, it didn't mean she couldn't make one in it; she was determined to enjoy her new life as best as she could, and if that meant enduring bad weather and strange accents, then so be it.
Sighing heavily, Andrea reached for her bags, struggling under their weight as she clumsily made her way towards the train door and got soaked in seconds. To complete the perfect welcoming, a thunder rumbled in the air outside, sending a single shiver running down her spine.
I'm going to fall, she thought as her feet shakily hit the stairs. I have just yet arrived, and the first thing I'm going to do in London is fall. I'm pretty sure when my mother told me to go do memorable things in here, to sprawl straight across the dirty sidewalk of this damned town wasn't what she had in mind.
"M-merde...", she stuttered as she crossed the gap between the train and the platform and slid on the wet floor. She felt her ankle spraining and her balance slipping away, sending her luggage skidding across the pavement and her body crashing against that of someone else's.
"Wow, that's quite the entrance, love", she heard the person say as his hand went to her side to steady her and prevent both of them from falling to the railway. Her eyes looked up instantly, clashing against the hazel ones of a freckled boy as between them the rain seemed to suddenly intensify and above them a lightning tore the sky in half. "Are you alright?"
Avoir un coup de foudre, she vaguely remembered in the back of her mind as her eyes registered his face in between the raindrops. To have a strike of lightning. It was French for falling in love at first sight.
When Andrea said she was going to fall, she had never thought it would be so literally.
"Ahm... hmm..." she mumbled, unable to form any coherent words. It wasn't just English she wasn't able to speak all of a sudden, it seemed as if French had run away to. The boy chuckled at her response, picking the umbrella Andrea had knocked to the ground and holding it above them. Only then did the girl remember her luggage, rushing out of the small refuge the umbrella provided and into the rain.
She started picking up her drenched bags amidst the sea of rushed feet when she felt him beside her again, protecting her from the downpour.
"Here, let me help ya, love," he said, the strange words sounding even stranger to Andrea as he said them, pressing certain letters while barely touching others. "Hold this for me, will ya?"
He handed her the umbrella handle and bent down to reach for the heavier bags, a smile still on his face when they both straightened themselves up and looked at each other again.
"Is that all?" He asked as he looked around, and Andrea nodded.
"Merci beaucoup," she replied with a smile. She hoped it could talk for her. Smiles were a language everyone understood, and luckily, a language she was fluent in.
"Clearly you're not from 'round 'ere."
"No, I'm... I'm from a place with much better weather. France."
The boy chuckled again, the tips of his lips curling into a mischievous smirk.
"And much less helpful lads, I'm sure."
"Yes, that too," Andrea laughed, and when she did, so did his eyes, and suddenly London didn't seem so dull anymore, as if this boy was putting the colors back where they belonged, bringing the city back to life. "Excusez-moi for earlier, I... I'm still feeling a little dépaysement."
"I have no idea what that means, only that it sounds bloody nice when you say it," he stated, taking the soaked grey cap out of his head and revealing a well-trimmed undercut of ginger hair.
"It's...", she started, struggling with the foreign words in her mouth. As a little kid she used to think French had been invented by a poet. Now she thought English had been invented by a mad scientist. Every word sounded wrong to her, in her heart. "The disorientation you feel when you're not in your own country and everything around you seems... foreign or strange."
"Well, we can change that," he declared, placing her bags down and holding out his hand to her. Andrea knew she should be looking for her brother, for Rose, that they were probably worried by now, but she couldn't bring herself to leave the small dome she and him seemed to be immersed in. For the first time London seemed like a good idea. "I'm Finn."
Andrea took his hand in hers and smiled. She felt the electricity in the air again, only now it was a different kind. "Andrea."
"What brought you to London then? If France has such a nice weather?"
"My brother's here. There's not much left in France for us, after the war."
Finn nodded slowly. "I'm afraid there's not much left in here either."
"Your clothes would say otherwise," Andrea replied, quickly scanning what seemed to be an expensive pair of shoes and grey coat. She could almost bet there was a fancy three-piece suit underneath.
"And now you're just making an excuse to check me out."
"I was not!" Andrea retorted, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks as Finn laughed softly.
"Keep tellin' yourself that, love. But they don't make blokes like me in France, I tell ya. Straight outta fucking Birmingham, this one," he said, pointing at himself with his thumb, but before Andrea could reply she spotted a familiar figure in the crowd and felt rain in her eyes too. She'd recognize his back anywhere. She had lost count to how many times she had piggybacked it in her childhood.
"Raphael!" She shouted, coming out from under the umbrella and running towards her brother, no longer caring if she fell to the ground or sprained another ankle. The pain of missing him would always hurt more. That is, until she slipped again and stumbled to the ground. "Oh, merde..."
***
"Raphael!" At the sound of those words, Rose and Raphael turned around at once, their hearts collectively sighing of relief upon seeing the familiar figure of Andrea sprinting to them, hair and smile both equally glued to her pale face.
Rose started mirroring her smile, but then her eyes widened when she noticed Andrea's feet sliding dangerously and she sprawled across the pavement, a curse leaving her lips in such a heartfelt way that Rose could not help but feel proud.
"Andrea!" Rose ran to her and helped her get up, inspecting her body for any possible injuries while Raphael just stood in his place and doubled over in laughter. "Are you okay, chérie?"
"I would be better if my older brother stopped laughing like a shrieking hyena and came give me a hug instead," Andrea retorted, shooting Raphael a death glare that made Rose feel proud yet again.
"I'm sorry, it just... it reminded me of when we were little kids and you could barely walk," Raphael said, shortening the distance between them and giving Andrea a tight hug while Rose covered them with the umbrella. "I missed you a lot, petite."
"Me too, imbécile," Andrea replied as she smiled into the hug. "And Rose, thank you for agreeing to take me in. It means so much."
"Of course," Rose smiled, pulling the sweet girl into her arms without caring that all their clothes were soaked. "Welcome to London."
"Yeah, it's been great," Andrea snorted. "Would certainly recommend."
"Did you have a safe trip? No one bothered you, did they?" As Raphael switched to his protective big brother mode, Rose's eyes drifted to an indistinct, hazy figure coming their way.
"No, actually, a nice young man even helped me, I—"
Rose's eyes narrowed at that, the gearwheels in her brain connecting the dots no one else saw. She often did that. Where others saw nothing, she saw meaning. When others saw kindness, she saw hidden intentions. When everyone else deemed something as a lost cause, she saved it.
"And the name of that nice young man... it wouldn't happen to be Finn, would it?" She murmured, lips pursing as she looked over Andrea's shoulder.
"Yes, how did you...?" Andrea asked with a frown, but her voice got lost when another thunder broke in the sky and the figure's face finally became clear. Rose had never seen him, and yet it felt like she had. Some part of him was in his brother.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," the boy stopped some steps away from them, dragging Andrea's and Raphael's eyes to him. Rose's jaw tensed when his accent confirmed her suspicions. She had thought Thomas Shelby couldn't surprise her anymore, and then he went and did this. "But you forgot your luggage, Andrea."
"Oh, thank you so much!" She exclaimed, completely oblivious to how Finn visibly shrank under the fuming eyes of Raphael. He could be a Shelby but he wasn't his brother, that was clear. And Rose felt suddenly outraged by the realization that not even his own brothers were spared in the game of chess Thomas insisted on playing with life. Everyone was just a pawn to him. But Andrea, that innocent girl next to her whom she had carried and taken care of as a baby, wouldn't be.
If Thomas Shelby wanted to play, he should be ready for checkmate.
"I'm so terribly sorry for all the trouble I've put you through," Andrea told him, relieving him of the baggage by handing it to her grumpy brother.
"It's nothing," Finn said, the smile on his face making dimples sprout on his cheeks. Rose's eyebrows raised slightly. So this it's what it looked like when a Shelby smiled.
"You're right, it's nothing compared to the trouble you'll be in if you don't keep it in your pants, mate," Raphael hissed, taking two steps towards Finn and stopping right in front of him. The freckled boy squared his shoulders and held his glare, suddenly much more of a Peaky Blinder than before. "You seem interested in Andrea, Finn. Wanna know something about her? She has a brother. And that brother happens to be a boxing champion."
"And apparently a big liar," Andrea snickered. "I vividly remember Rose writing me telling how you were knocked out in the final round and thus came in second."
"Details," Raphael shrugged it off, his stare still fixed on Finn, and Rose rolled her eyes. Men and their egos. The world would be a better place if they cared as much about being good as they cared about being male. "I could still easily wrestle any guy that tries to take advantage of my sister."
Before Finn had a chance to answer and the conversation went south, Rose placed a firm hand on her barman's shoulder and moved forward, smiling at the youngest Shelby. A smile that could be just as lethal as Raphael's right hook, if only less perceptible.
"Don't mind him, Finn, Raphael here has a talent for theatrics. It's nice to meet you. I'm Rose," she watched as he nodded, taking in the information, and wondered what exactly Thomas Shelby planned to achieve with this. Maybe he was just probing, or maybe he wanted to send a message, like with the purse. I can get to you. "But I'm sure we have delayed you enough. Surely you must have a train to catch?"
"Yes, definitely, I should get going," Finn agreed, taking the flat cap out of his pocket and placing it on his head. For a split second Rose saw his brother in him, except Thomas Shelby didn't smile and Finn's face opened in a grin. "It was nice meeting you, Andrea. I admit, you have a scary brother, but luckily, so do I."
"Will I see you around?" The French girl inquired, ignoring how Raphael sulked and crossed his arms over his chest beside her.
"Aye," he said, the wink almost provoking a heart attack on both the De La Cour's, but for very different reasons. "I think ya will."
***
After dropping by the house Rose had arranged for Raphael and Andrea to stay in, so all of them could get changed, the French Kisser led the siblings to a small boutique in South Kensington that could easily go unnoticed in the immensity of the French Quarter's fancy buildings. But not to Rose. Le Petit Paris was not only the dress shop that provided the French Kissers with the most elegant of clothes and the most valuable of secrets, it was also the life dream of her close friend, Sienna Yang.
"Rose, a boutique!" Andrea exclaimed excitedly as she eyed the window and the beautiful silk and velvet dresses in display. "And it looks just like the ones in Paris! This is why I wanted you to tour me around town, I know Raphael would never take me to these places. Can we go in?"
Rose chuckled at her excitement and nodded. The easy, real way in which Andrea smiled – it reminded her of how different her generation was, the one who didn't have the war to contend with. The one who could smile without fearing it would be taken away.
"Of course."
"I don't have money to buy you a dress, Andrea, so don't go on—"
"Oh my God, look at that one!" Andrea interrupted, speeding towards a mannequin displaying a golden dress intricately adorned with silver sequins.
"Putain!" Raphael muttered as he eyed the price. "I could buy the whole damn city with this."
Andrea turned on her heels, her shoulders sinking upon Raphael's words. "So we're not here to buy me a dress?"
"No," a voice said from behind her, coming out of the small division attached to the store. It was Sienna, with her dark brown hair and eyes equally shining. She had a presence that filled a whole room, and Rose had a great deal of admiration for her. Despite working with clothes, Sienna hated labels. She refused to be shoved into a box and judged. Whenever society tried to bring her down by using 'Asian woman' as an insult, she rose above it by taking it as a compliment. She was more than those words, anyway. She was a person whose soul stitched others. "We're here to make you one."
***
Twenty minutes later, after Sienna had taken Andrea's measurements, Rose approached the cheerful girl and handed her a gift.
"Hope I'm not paying for that!" Raphael warned, though the grumpiness he had been in since the encounter with Finn had been replaced by the joy of seeing his sister so happy.
"It's a gift, Raphael," Rose stated. "Besides, when do you ever pay for anything?"
As her brother protested, Andrea unwrapped the gift quickly, a furrow settling in her brow as her eyes took in the white lace thigh holster and the knife attached to it.
"I... this is not an initiation ritual or something, is it? I don't have to kill anyone, do I?"
Rose chuckled and fished the knife out, turning it swiftly in her fingers.
"No. But I do want you to carry this knife in your garters wherever you go."
"Rose—", Raphael intervened, watching the frightened expression on his little sister's face.
"I'm not initiating Andrea in the art of being a criminal, Raphael, but she needs to learn how to defend herself."
"I agree," he said. "I do boxing, I'll teach her."
"Yes. But meanwhile, I want her to carry a knife with her."
"Rose, this is not what my parents meant when they asked you to take care of her."
"Raphael, Andrea is a young girl, and a very pretty one. Do you know what happens to young girls in the streets of London? There is no way I will let that happen to her or any other woman. Not on my fucking watch. So, Andrea, you take the knife, and Raphael, you shut the fuck up."
Raphael pressed his lips together, but he knew it was no use arguing with her. Rose was just looking out for Andrea, and deep down he felt relieved that she was. Being under Rose's protection was the best place anyone in London could be.
"Now, Andrea, that young man you met at the station, he's not just a nice boy. His name is Finn Shelby. He's Thomas Shelby's youngest brother."
"WHAT?" Raphael boomed, reaching for the blade in Rose's hand. "Give me that fucking knife, I'm going after that bastard right now."
"No, you're not." Rose countered, her eyes warning him more than words ever could. One did not look at those eyes and remained unchanged. Rose had as much power to heal men as she had to break them.
"What does that mean? To be a Shelby?" Andrea asked, confused.
"It means to be a haughty prick who thinks they can do whatever they want and get away with it, that's what it means," Raphael snarled.
"It means we stay away from them," Rose corrected. "I'll deal with Thomas Shelby. Meanwhile, I want you to be careful around Finn. He most likely will try to see you again, but you must be aware that he's doing it on behalf of others. So they can get information out of you. About me."
"Why?" Andrea's brows knitted together. "What is it that you do?"
"I do... bad things," Rose ended up answering. "Things that can harm good people if they're not careful about who they trust or what they say and to whom. I don't want to scare you, but London is not Amiens, Andrea. And the sooner you realize that, the better."
The young woman took the knife from Raphael's hands and looked at Rose, taking her aback by how fierce she suddenly looked.
"Why don't you show me then?"
***
"So you do illegal things?" Andrea questioned as they strolled down the dim streets of London that same evening. Rose appreciated how her tone was more curiosity than it was disapproval.
"In part. I'm trying to go legit in as much business as I can," she shrugged. "It's just not my fault that what I do best is considered illegal. Not everyone can have talent in the right side of the law."
"What do you do best, then? Apart from giving me awesome gifts and scolding Raphael so wonderfully?" Raphael had to run for a last minute boxing thing, but Rose still had a meeting to attend to and decided it would be best to take Andrea with her so she could get used to the type of life they led there. God knew Andrea's parents would have never let her leave France if they knew what Rose was up to in England.
"It's best if you don't know. What we don't know can't hurt us."
"Can't it, though? You used to say ignorance was a man's worst enemy."
Rose thought about her smile, how untainted it was from the horrors she had never seen. "Well now I consider it a blessing. And I was wrong. A man's worst enemy is himself."
But Andrea was no longer there. She had stayed behind, marveling at how the blacksmiths would work, at how the fire sparkles would dance across her eyes and hide within the dense smoke.
Then the worst she had imagined happened, and Rose watched as a man barked something to Andrea, and Andrea looking outraged, and then afraid, and then humiliated as others laughed around her, and then his hand smacking her backside without an inch of her consent.
Rose's fists clenched harshly, her nails digging into her palms. She considered herself tolerant in many things. Any kind of harassment or abuse wasn't one of them. In two seconds she was already beside Andrea, grabbing her arm and dragging her behind her. Rose scowled at the worker, enduring his stare as he eyed her up and down.
"Ain't today my lucky day, uh, every woman that passes this street is smokin'..." his hand darted forward, to try and grab Andrea again, but before he could do anything, Rose had clutched his arm easily and twisted it painfully behind his back, gripping him by the nape of his neck and pushing his face dangerously close to one of the open furnaces. She could feel the heat burning from where she was.
"Next time you even think about doing that to a woman, I want you to imagine your face some inches to the left," Rose threatened, her grip on the man unwavering as he let out a feeble whine. "Are we clear?"
He didn't answer, instead turning his face slightly and spitting on the ground. Rose tightened his grip on his hair and moved his face an inch closer to the fire. "I asked, are we clear?"
"Y-yes!" The man stuttered and Rose released him, observing the red skin on his face without a hint of regret. "You crazy woman!"
"It's not a lucky day without a scar to remember it, don't you think?" Rose deadpanned as she grasped Andrea's hand to take her away from there.
"Are you alright?" She asked the girl as soon as they were in a safer place.
"I... yes. I think so. I will be. But you... I..."
"I told you. I do bad things."
Andrea nodded. "And yet you do them well."
***
"So, miss Salvage, I'm glad I finally had the pleasure of meeting you. I've heard a lot about you. Only good things, I assure you," the worst way for Rose to end her day was to be stuck in an office with a conceited politician who often belittled her just for what she carried between her legs, and yet that was the most common way for her to end a day. Luckily, this time it was a French minister, and so considerably more bearable than the British ones.
"Such as?" Rose questioned with a trained smile as she made a motion for him to sit across her. The French statesman was visiting London to make sure French business in England was running smoothly, and one could not talk about French business without talking about Rose Salvage. She had consistently been one of the largest sources of income for France these past years, a deed that along with her connections and her patriotism was greatly appreciated by the French Republic.
"Well, for starters, I heard that you control nearly every port from Calais to Dieppe," the man said, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket square. "Many companies don't appreciate such a monopoly, miss Salvage."
"When I don't appreciate something, I work to change it. Have they?"
"Fair point," he nodded. "You have substantial legitimate business here in England, from industrial factories to corporate deals and a well-reputed grid of cafés, shops and guesthouses. Rumors are you're even thinking about opening up a hotel."
"It's in the plans," Rose agreed. "Any suggestions for a name?"
The man smiled, pointing with his cigarette at her before taking a long drag on it and allowing the smoke to emphasize his words.
"The problem is you also have a substantial amount of illegal business, such as weaponry transactions, rackets and bootlegging. I also heard that that absinthe distillery of yours is going great. As I'm sure you know, due to its hallucinogenic and harmful effects, absinthe is banned in France, yet you insist on smuggling it into our country."
Ah, there it was. La fée verte. The green fairy. Her most precious secret. The production and selling of absinthe had been one of the most reliable ways she had found to build her wealth, and she wasn't just about to abandon it for the vagaries of some politicians.
There was only two things Rose was loyal to, her family and her country. If another war were to happen, she knew she would die for both again, gladly. But there was a blinding difference between them. Her family would sacrifice just as much for her. Her country would thank her for her sacrifice and forget about it afterwards. So she had to make sure that, in the events of her death, her family would never again struggle. That they would have a future even if she wasn't in it. So if it came down to it, and she had to choose between her country's will and her family's safety, blood would always be her only choice.
"I assure you, absinthe is not any more dangerous than any other spiritual drink. You should be looking more into opium and cocaine smuggling. That's what's really ruining the men that came back from the war. That, and the complete lack of support from the state, that is."
"I don't care that you sell it here in England," the man retorted, ignoring her remark. "I don't care that you ship it to America. But the French government is not happy that you insist on trafficking it there."
"I don't know what they have to complain about. Almost all the money I gain goes to France, to build schools and hospitals, orphanages and institutions, so the French people there can have a better life than my sisters and I had. So that they don't have to leave their country for another to find a better life, like I had to. I'm taking care of my people, sir. Are you?"
"You know when I first heard about you, I didn't believe it," the politician admitted, tapping the cigarette on the ashtray to release the ash. "A woman in charge of so many men, of so many factories and business, capable of striking deals with even the most fearsome of devils. A woman leading a gang without anyone knowing she is. Tell me, how do you do it? To keep your identity a secret?"
"You said it yourself, sir," Rose said, flicking her case open and taking a cigarette out herself. "I have the best protection I could ask for, society, and its foolish but deep-rooted belief that a woman can never rule anything, much less a criminal empire. It's people that protect me, whenever they refuse to believe that a woman can be the boss. No one suspects that I'm in charge because of that."
"Still, someone must have suspected by now."
"Maybe," Rose shrugged, "they're not around anymore for you to ask. So about the absinthe, I take it as the French government will be more inclined to accept it if some of the profit falls into their hands?"
The Frenchman's eyes shimmered slightly, the curves of his lips twisting up.
"Now I understand why you're in charge, miss Salvage."
***
Arrow House, Warwickshire
Alone in that big office, Thomas Shelby did not feel like a God. He did not even feel like a King, only as a lonely man whose clock moved too slowly for a mind that worked too fast. Sighing deeply, he reached for the opium stash inside his desk drawer. He had a feeling it was going to be another long, sleepless night. And he was having dreams again. About dead wives and dead roses.
Sometimes, too many for his liking, he found his mind drifting to that enthralling woman he had met weeks ago, at how she had managed to bring him out of his numbness with her secretive words and enigmatic smile. Sometimes he wondered if she was real or just another product of his imagination, a figment of his damaged mind. He didn't know. All he knew was the desire to see her again was very real, and increasingly harder to ignore.
He shook his head and touched the case with his fingers. He couldn't deal with the pain, so the opium would have to do it for him. He didn't think anyone would bother him, anyway, and that he could at least enjoy a peaceful night, until his little brother Finn burst into the room, his freckled face contorted in annoyance.
"Bloody hell, Tommy, you could have at least told me!"
Thomas looked at him impassively, cigarette hanging from his fingers as his glassy eyes tried to make sense of his younger brother.
"Told you what?"
"That she was... you know... pretty!"
Thomas' brows raised, his thumb scratching his forehead as he tried and failed to forgive Finn for interrupting his moment of quietness for such a futile reason. He should have known this would be his reaction, after all. He had been a boy once. Many lifetimes ago.
"Who?"
"Who? Wo do you think? Andrea, of course!" Finn exclaimed, his voice going up a few unnecessary decibels as he tried to express all of his indignation to a man who couldn't care less about other people's resentments. "I don't want our razor blades anywhere near that face!"
Thomas sighed and dropped the cigarette to his desk. "I couldn't have told you she was pretty since I've never seen her, Finn."
"Even if you had, your eyes would be too stuck on Rose to notice anyone else, eh, Tommy? Ever since you met that woman you don't have another fucking thought in in that stubborn head of yours."
Thomas said nothing. Silence for him was often a form of protest, but not this time.
"God, I miss Arthur and John. At least they don't go around asking me to spy on innocent girls so I can find out more about the people that take them in."
"You can still visit them. Last time I checked, prisons still accepted visitors."
"Yeah, and maybe sniff some snow right in front of the coppers, yeah, why not, Thomas?" Finn scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't want to have any part on this. I'm not going to use Andrea just so you can get to Rose."
"Did you manage to find out anything useful, at least?"
"Only that Andrea's brother is a bloody boxer and bloody scary as well."
"A Shelby? Afraid of a boxer?" Thomas snorted, grabbing the cigarette again and making it slide from side to side between his lips. "Do we have a problem, Finn?"
"No. But I'm not using Andrea. Whatever thing you and Rose have going on – I don't want no part in it."
"Fair enough," Thomas stated, closing the drawer and gesturing towards Finn with his cigarette. "So you found her pretty. My bet is, you'd like to see her again. Isn't that right?"
Finn said nothing. And that said everything.
"Alright then, prep yourself, Finn boy," Thomas said, slamming his hand on the desk. "We're going to London."
author's note.
First of all I'm so sorry for the long wait guys!! I tried to make this chapter a little longer to make up for it and also to thank you all for 6k reads and 400 votes on this story. I appreciate your support so much <3
I'd also like to dedicate this chapter to MissLalice for the amazing ship edit she made for this story! JUST LOOK AT THIS MASTERPIECE:
Thank you so much again <3
I hope you guys liked this chapter! I love Finn so it was a joy writing him. As always, please leave your votes and thoughts on it :)
I promise Tommy and Rose will meet again next chapter and it's going to be a VERY interesting one, so stay tuned ;)
sign off gif made by Iyndsey