Chapter Five: The Kill

A/N: Long time, no update! This chapter is a bit on the shorter side, but it does end with a bang ;) As usual, I live for your reviews, so please let me know what you think!

Whispers circulated Shelby Company Ltd that Michael had been arrested, accused of being the one who had set fire to the Marquis. Tommy, being his usual self, would confirm nothing. It wasn't simply Michael - Arthur had been taken into custody as well, on far more serious charges. With the organisation in disarray, Jessica couldn't find the confidence in Tommy that she often searched for. Therefore, Jessica sought refuge in prayer.

Typically, Jessica would engage in such prayers at home, away from the prying eyes of the public. This time things were particularly dire, so she knelt before the cross and clasped her hands in the church. It was always a time of reflection and concentration for Jessica, and she liked being alone. The church doors creaking open made her glance over her shoulder. She was overcome by trepidation at the sight of Major Campbell, and she scrambled to her feet.

"There's no need." He raised a hand, a strained smile crossing his face. Jessica was cautious, knowing that this man was the source of Tommy's predicament and the reason for Michael's arrest. She did not often come across men who could truly play with the Shelbys and win, so Campbell's presence was most troubling to her.

"Major Campbell," she murmured.

"Jessica Jesus, isn't it?" When she nodded mutely, his smile widened. He sank into one of the pews at the front. "I've heard of you. An accomplished dancer, if word on the street is anything to go by. You're a good girl."

"I suppose so," Jessica said, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. She didn't think Campbell was here for her, but that didn't make his presence any less ominous. She felt that this sacred ground had been tainted, and knew that her time of prayer was over.

"Your father works with the Shelbys." Campbell shook his head slowly. "A mistake, for a religious man."

"My father provides for my brother and I." Jessica's voice was firm, head jerking up. She refused to quarrel with Campbell, but she would not hear him insult her father's choices. "He has known the Shelbys since before the war."

Her heart was pounding in her chest and her knees were shaking. She wanted to leave and go home, but she didn't think Campbell was done talking to her. Certainly an eighteen-year-old dancer would not be of concern nor interest to him. Then why did he persist in speaking with her?

"Do you think God would see it that way?" Campbell tilted his head to the side, brow furrowing.

"I don't presume to know what God would think." Jessica's fingers found the hem of her dress, wringing it anxiously. She could not give him an answer to an unanswerable question. "I hope he would understand why my father chose this path."

Taking a deep breath, Jessica forced her legs into movement, heading down past the pews toward the church door. She was relieved when Campbell made no attempt to stop her, although it didn't prevent him calling out to her.

"Miss Jesus?" She turned to look at him, shoulders tense. "I would be careful if I were you. Good girls don't remain so in the company of men like the Peaky Blinders."

Jessica didn't know if it was a warning or a threat. It caused a chill to trail up her spine like icy hands.

"Thank you for your concern, Major Campbell, but it is unwarranted."

Jessica swept out of the church before the man could say anything else that would trouble her. Nonetheless, his words followed like a dog snapping at the back of her heels, one that she couldn't outrun. She believed she had a kind heart, and she despised violence. Surely her association with the Shelbys wouldn't change that.

Polly asked Jessica around for morning tea on her day off, and the girl gratefully accepted. The neighbourhood where the Grays lived was quite posh, and so Jessica felt self-conscious as she stood on the porch and waited for the maid to answer the door.

The house seemed quiet without Michael, with only the clink of china and the ticking of the grandfather clock as signs of life within the large house. The tea was stronger than usual, but Jessica appreciated the taste nonetheless. It was odd to her that Polly had said very little since she'd arrived, but perhaps she had been asked around to listen.

"I'm going to be picking Michael up today. He's being released."

The statement was matter-of-fact, with none of the joy that Jessica would have expected from Polly. The woman had been beside herself when Michael had been arrested, certainly she was thrilled that he was being released. There was something off about Polly, although Jessica could not have said what it was.

"What?" Jessica paused, setting her teacup down with a light clatter. "Well, that's good news, isn't it? So they agreed to let him out?"

"Major Campbell…" Polly was a woman of composure, so the fact that her hands trembled as she raised her teacup to her mouth made Jessica pause. She dragged a chair over next to Polly and sat beside her, alarmed and quizzical.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

Polly reached a hand out to Jessica, who clasped it tightly in hers. With her free hand she took another deep sip of her tea, as though steeling herself.

"There's usually one thing men want from women, Jessica. You're an innocent in such matters, but you won't always be."

Jessica's stomach turned as she realised what Polly meant. She was not as innocent as the older woman proclaimed - Jessica had seen the way some men looked at her, the way they leered, their eyes raking unpleasantly over her lithe figure. The idea that Major Campbell could have done such a thing to Polly was unspeakable, and it made Jessica grip her hand that bit tighter, knowing just what Polly had sacrificed for Michael.

"I'm so sorry that happened, Polly."

"Don't be. It was my decision to make." Polly released her hand, setting her teacup down in the saucer. She refused to meet Jessica's eyes, making her certain that despite Polly's brusque tone, she was not alright. "You are old enough now to start seeing it. Many men won't respect you. They'll see you as something to chew up and spit out."

"I wouldn't be with a man who didn't respect me," Jessica assured her. She knew it was quite something to expect, especially for a woman of her colour. She was expected to make a match, not demand respect. Her prospects were not entirely limitless. Most likely, she'd end up with an associate of the Peaky Blinders.

"They don't always give you that choice." Polly leaned back in her chair. "Sometimes, when a man can't have something, he will take it. You hate violence, and I understand that. But it's the threat of violence from the Shelbys that has protected you."

Jessica hadn't thought of it that way before, but she supposed that Polly was right. As much as she abhorred bloodshed, she certainly may not be as well off if not for her association with the Shelbys. She felt shame colour her cheeks. Perhaps she had not been as grateful for that protection as she ought to be.

"I'll come with you to collect Michael," Jessica declared. She thought it might be prudent if Polly had company at this particular time. She knew it could be a dangerous thing to be left alone with dark thoughts, and Polly might appreciate the gesture.

"Very well." Polly collected Jessica's teacup and set it on the table. "Grab your coat."

Isaiah wanted to have a party on the night before the Epsom Races while Jeremiah was out preaching, but Jessica had flatly refused. After some negotiation, the twins decided that they would have Michael and Finn over for some drinks. Technically Finn probably shouldn't have been having alcohol, but he did what he wanted in any case. Jessica had often enjoyed the races, and so there was a warm fuzziness to the atmosphere the night before.

The Jesus apartment was loud with some of Jessica's favourite music, the sort she would have danced to. A thick plume of smoke lingered in the living room, where Finn had brought some cigars for them to share. There were bottles of brandy and rum on the table, and several glasses with the dregs of alcohol in the bottom of them.

Jessica liked to tidy as she went. Although she didn't believe their father would be annoyed at them having guests, she knew he'd not take well to mess being left. While the boys laughed and drank in the living room, Jessica made a habit of taking the empty glasses and plates to the kitchen to scrub them clean and stack them to dry.

"You can sit down for a moment, you know." Michael leaned against the pantry door, examining Jessica as she set the dishes up to dry. The bruises on his face were beginning to yellow, the cuts almost healed. It had shocked and alarmed her to realise he had been brutalised during his time in the prison.

"I like to keep the place tidy." Jessica wiped her hands on the cloth. Michael made her nervous. Not in a particularly bad way - his presence just reminded her of the lingering feelings she had for him. She didn't want to become flustered, fearing that Isaiah may resort to teasing her.

"We can all help once we're done." Michael gently removed the cloth from her hands, his fingers brushing against hers and making butterflies swirl in her stomach. "Come on, this is meant to be a fun night."

Jessica had to agree with him. She'd barely touched the drinks. Perhaps it was time she let go and allowed herself to have a bit of fun. She was so used to being the sensible one. Tonight she wanted to be a little reckless. Maybe it was Michael's presence that encouraged such daring within her. When she looked down, she noticed that his hand was mere inches from hers, causing warmth to flare in her cheeks.

A persistent hammering at the door cut through Jessica's haze of pleasant confusion. She headed into the living room, only to discover that Isaiah had already opened the door. There were three men there, bearded and red-faced. Judging from the scowls on their faces, the business they had was not good.

"Will you turn the fucking music down?" The biggest of the group was a burly dark-haired man who looked ready for a fight. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

"Calm down." Isaiah rolled his eyes, and Jessica couldn't help but tense. Her brother always dealt with conflict aggressively. "We can turn it off in an hour. We're having fun here. Join us for a drink, if you want."

"I don't want to share with you." The man scoffed, examining Isaiah derisively. "I'm sick of the fucking noise. There's always music playing here."

"That would be partly my fault." Jessica stepped timidly into the living room, hoping she might be able to ease some of the tension. "I'm a dancer, so I have the music going so that I can practise."

"I don't give a shit." The man sneered at her. Jessica bit her lip, sensing that her attempts at resolution weren't welcome here. She stayed where she was, afraid that any further movement would result in a violent reaction from one of the men.

"Don't fucking speak to my sister like that." Isaiah glowered at the man. Knowing things were only going to escalate, Jessica went over against her better judgement and caught his arm. She offered the men a weak, apologetic smile.

"It's fine. We'll turn the music off."

"No, Jessie." Isaiah shrugged her off, causing Jessica to step back. "I'm sick of men like them trying to tell us what we can do. How about you just fuck off?"

Jessica could feel a cold sheen of sweat break out across her brow. She was beginning to feel nauseous. Jeremiah would have been able to de-escalate the situation better than her, but he would not return home for a few hours yet. The tension in the room thickened and intensified as anger flashed in the eyes of the men at the door.

The ringleader of the group didn't seem to like that. He grabbed Isaiah by the shirt, and the three of them barged into the living room. Finn swore and scrambled to his feet. Michael froze, seemingly unsure of what to do. Jessica took a few stumbling steps backwards. The threat of violence had never been here, in their house.

None of the boys seemed to know what to do as the man punched Isaiah repeatedly. The sickening sound of his fist hitting flesh made Jessica flinch, but it also drove her to action. Jessica fumbled in the dresser drawers and removed the pistol that Jeremiah kept there. He typically did not have it on him whilst preaching, as he was with the Peaky Blinders most of the time. She could tell that it was loaded, although she had no intention of firing upon anyone. With shaking hands, she pointed the pistol at the man with the dark beard who had started all this nonsense.

"Get out."

The men stopped in their pummelling of Isaiah when they saw the gun in her hands. The other two exchanged nervous looks, but the ringleader just laughed. Apparently, caution was not something that applied to him.

"You really think I believe you're gonna shoot me?"

He marched toward her, despite Isaiah's attempts to wrest him away. Jessica panicked, her finger slipping on the trigger. A sound like a firecracker rent through the apartment and for a few moments, there was absolute silence aside from the record scratching as the song reached its conclusion. The ringleader of the men dropped to the ground, and Michael and Finn approached him cautiously.

The gun dropped from Jessica's violently shaking hands. Isaiah was quick to retrieve it, putting a comforting arm around his sister's shoulders as Michael examined the fallen man. He wasn't moving, and Jessica could taste bile in her mouth as Michael looked up. His eyes were full of trepidation as he glanced at the Jesus twins. Isaiah's arm tightened around Jessica.

"She shot him through the neck."

Jessica was definitely going to throw up. She hadn't meant to hurt anyone. She just wanted it all to stop. It had been an empty threat, until it hadn't been. Now there was blood all over the carpet, the metallic smell filling the apartment. Her ragged gasp was the only sound in the room as Michael pushed himself to his feet.

"He's dead."