Avos'

𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧

THIS IS HIS LOT IN LIFE.

Finn Shelby considers this as he pounds away, the hammer acting as his sword and the nails taking the place of all the invisible enemies he only fights in his nightmares.

Faceless men that hide in the shadows. Blood-covered fields where fields of lilacs should grow. An army of unknown assailants that has come to pick off his family one by one.

But those things he fears that always stay in his nightmares have emerged in the real world.

Grissy and Grissy, almost dead. Tommy, nearly beaten to death. Alfie, still dying.

Living out here in Margate, away from the Peaky Blinders and Small Heath, it was supposed to be a calm life. It was supposed to be calm, peaceful, and perfect. It's been days filled with his barely-there job at the local pub. It's been days filled with going fishing with some of the local boys his age. It's been days filled with taking care of the twins and always meeting Grissy and Alfie for dinner.

It's been days filled with the perfect simplicity of a normal, loving life.

Fuck, the deck he's mercilessly hammering into is supposed to be for his home. It's nice, small, and within walking distance from the main home.

He gulps and the hammer nearly slips from his sweaty hand because what his home really is, is a guest home. It's temporary, a brief respite from the all-too threatening timeline that shortens with each day. He looks back but can't muster a smile at the white wood and neatly trimmed windows. He doesn't dream of the gatherings he'll have on this deck with his new friends.

He can no longer picture bringing a girl here. No, not just a girl, the girl. The Grissy to his Alfie, the Oksana to his Tommy, the final girl.

The memory of the last few days slams into him, and he hammers harder, and he doesn't stop even when he feels the blisters forming on his fingers.

"Finn."

The hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. The voice is short, curt, to the point, and in a cadence that can only belong to one man. Add to that the scent of mint tobacco flowing in front of his nose, he knows who it is.

Tommy.

Finn's been avoiding him like the plague, both before and after he moved in. When he still lived in Small Heath, Tommy was so busy with his legitimate busy that he rarely saw him. When Grace died, Tommy was so caught up in his grief, that he only saw him once a week every Sunday for dinner, and he could hide behind the rest of his family. Even when he and Oksana moved in, Tommy was so focused on Grissy and Alfie, that he didn't even spare him a glance.

And, sadly, it was perfect.

It sounds horrible. Finn loves his brother. Despite Arthur being the oldest, Tommy's always been the one to look up to. Tommy's elegant, strong, more intelligent than anyone he's ever met, and brimming with an unnatural amount of confidence. The way he walks, the way he conducts himself, the way he talks, it's like he's some sort of mythical hero from the stories Polly used to read to him.

Because Tommy's a legend, isn't he?

His brother is a legend, but Finn hates that his constant presence reminds him of just how weak and cowardly he is. Without Tommy, it was easy to escape the shame and guilt of being the lesser Shelby, and he hates how he feels when he's here.

Regardless, he knows he needs to turn. Tommy only uttered his name, but that in itself is a command. And you do not refuse a command from Thomas Michael Shelby.