The carriage had finally dropped you off outside your old family home. Memories flashed in your mind as you let yourself in, unable to believe you were back in Birminham after years.

A sigh of exaustion, shoulders drooping from the weary trip, you lug your suitcases inside; ignoring the thick layers of dust even as you cough and splutter and almost instinctively collapse on the bed. Vowing to yourself you'll start cleaning up tomorrow. . Thomas watched as the man kneeled in the alleyway. The man he had spent the entire afternoon chasing after, which had put him in a foul mood. Glaring at the pleading look he offered, as if the man thought he was a fucking puppy. Babbling apologies and sobbing so incoherently it made Thomas' head pound.

Raising his gun without a hint of emotion, he squeezed the trigger and watched with detached intrest as the gun reverberated. And the body limply thudded to the ground.

"Fucking finally." He sighed to himself, turning out of the alleyway and running straight into you. Not alot could suprise Thomas, but seeing you. You, who he hadn't seen since... he was eleven...

You were grown up and yet he recognised you instantly and for once, he had no idea what to say. For the first time, he was conscious of the blood splatter on his cheek, the gun in his hand.

"Hello love." He said finally, his voice not as hard and cold as usual.