Chapter Text
You’d started off as a simple errand girl in the office, bringing drinks to customers and running to get new supplies when needed. It was hard to build a life up from nothing, especially when you had no documents; being a time traveller tended to cause that. You’d landed in Birmingham in the middle of the night one cold winter’s day, only your pajamas to keep you warm, and you’d slowly built yourself a foundation you could rest on; a job, a flat, friends… You were content at last, even though you missed your old home. You had no way to go back; you weren’t a scientist, and you weren’t sure what had even caused it in the first place. All you knew is you’d been woken up to a dip in the river that ran through the smog-filled city, seemingly stuck in a bygone era with little frame of reference. Luckily for you, the Shelby family was not particularly picky with the background of their workers; you weren’t a red, and you were desperate enough to work for them despite their reputation, and that was all that mattered, at least to Polly.
At first, the regulars hadn’t even seemed to notice you, most too drunk off the alcohol or the rush of gambling to be able to tell the difference between the girls serving them. It was stressful, being around so many armed men, but you didn’t have a choice, now did you?
Your first day had been the roughest of all. You’d started off with little but the clothes that Polly had gotten you, sleeping in the back room at night on a raggedy old couch and with whatever breakfast Polly managed to scrounge up for you the only thing in your rumbling belly. You’d gotten dressed, brushed your teeth and washed your face, and then you’d gone out to begin opening the place up. It was quite ornate, if not a little old-fashioned, though you supposed that was to be expected when living in the past. The main room had green, swirling wallpaper, a light olive color, with deep mahogany floors and soft wood accents. The room was lit with natural light during the day, casting everything in dim greys and off-whites, smog creating an almost hazy glow that contributed to the mesmerizing atmosphere during the gambling hours. You opened the doors, exposing the various gambling paraphernalia. You pulled out the blackboard and scribbled the day’s prices and information, readying the area for the other workers, and began setting down the chairs and arranging the tables.
An hour later, and the entire operation was ready. By then, employees were streaming in, quietly chatting about yesterday’s earnings. They were determined to continue on, though of course multiple did come over and introduce themselves. Finally, the day truly began as the gamblers arrived. it was hard, learning how to manage dozens of drunk, belligerent men. You hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it all yet, though you were trying your best. Then, one smacked your ass. You whirled around, indignant, only to find you had been beaten to the punch. Literally. A tall, broad man with a mustache had already punched the man to the ground and was fucking pummeling him, blood flying everywhere. It was brutal, and violent, and honestly quite appreciated; no one had ever stood up for you the way the man was, though his friends were soon prying him off. He shook them off then streched out his hands, bruised knuckles clear even from your angle, and turned to look at you. It was then you noticed his sharp, blue suit, and the flat cap resting on his head. Oh no.
It was Arthur Shelby, and he was staring right at you. It felt like a bucket of water had been dumped straight on your head, like you were suffocating under the pressure of a million moons as his dark, intense eyes stared directly into you. It was like looking into the eye of a storm, all danger but still quiet.
“You alright?” he asked, accent thick. You nodded silently, perhaps too quickly, your nerves peaking through as you tried to school your expression. He seemed to sense your discomfort, backing away slightly and nodding, as if to reassure himself. “alright, well, that’s good, then… I’ll be going now,” he turned, awkwardly, and walked away. The man on the floor groaned and spit out a tooth, landing directly next to your foot. At least after that, no one bothered you again.
Over the course, you met various members of the Shelby family, as though they’d taken it upon themselves to introduce themselves to you just to see who Polly had hired. John came in your second day and had a long chat about the types of beers you thought customers would want, Finn wanted your help gambling with his meager allowance, and Ada wanted to go shopping with you. When you’d turned her down, she’d promptly given you a hundred pounds and forced you to go to her favorite shop, where she bought you an entire new wardrobe of designer clothing. It was the type of stuff you wouldn’t have been able to afford even in your old life, and yet here you were, in your new flat (John had paid for it), with new clothing, and a month’s worth of groceries in your pantry (Arthur had said he wanted to pay you back for frightening you). You were terrified they were trying to suck you in to some scheme, trying to get on your good side just to use you for some horrid plot; and yet, as the months dragged on, nothing happened.
It had been months, and the only Shelby you had yet to meet was your mysterious boss, Tommy. You were conspicuously never scheduled for when he was going to be in the shop; Polly’s work, you assumed. You weren’t sure why she didn’t want you to meet her nephew, yet you wouldn’t push. You’d spent the last couple of months hearing the rumors from the other girls in the shop, and you had no desire to introduce yourself and potentially be put in harm’s way.
That all changed one hazy winter’s day. It was a normal day at first, though slightly more busy than normal. You’d just been serving a gentleman a beer, one of the regulars in fact, when an odd man had stepped in. He was massive, towering over every other man in the building at a staggering 6’6”, and his heavy boots thunked against the floors as he sauntered through the door. He had to hunch slightly to even make it in. There he stood, surveilling the now silent room, before a smirk graced his gnarled features. A cruel glint lit in his eye, and then he pulled out a gun, and fired.
Right at your head.
You hit the floor as fast as possible, though through the fuzzy ringing in your ears, you weren’t quite sure if you’d been grazed or not. All you could do was stay there, pressed to the floor and clutching your head tightly, as the shouting above you turned into a cacophany. Shots rang through the room as the various Peaky Blinders stationed around fired at the man, the gunfight seemingly going on forever.
Finally, a shot fired from behind the massive man, and he clutched at his chest. Bright red blood spurted from his mouth, staining his teeth and pooling at his feet, before he collapsed, dead before he even hit the ground. Tommy Shelby stood in the door, silhoutted by the fog and the light, a makeshift halo illuminating his head and blocking out his face. “Anyone hit?” a voice called.
Polly frantically rushed to your side, turning you over and examining your head. “Shit, just a graze!” She called, face turned to look at Arthur. She looked terrified, genuinely scared that you’d been hurt, a stark contrast against the burning rage painting Arthur’s wan face. Jesus, you’d think you’d been killed, based off their expressions!
You were pulled up and sat at a chair, the accompanying desk completely overturned, and Polly got to work examined the flesh wound. Tommy circled around to talk to Arthur, walking slowly and calmly as the various other occupants streamed out into the street, looking for any accomplices to take their frustrations out on. Soon, the room was filled only with the Peaky Blinders, the Shelby family members, and yourself. You found yourself shifting your eyes away awkwardly, unnerved by the quiet, tense atmosphere. Tommy turned to face you, icey blue eyes meeting yours. It felt like he was seeing through you, as though he could see past your skin and into your core being, examining you for all that you were. For a second you were scared he knew, though you quickly dismissed the thought.
And without so much as a word, Tommy stormed out.