Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey.
The young man stood at the prow, holding on to the cold, metal rail as the ferry ploughed through choppy waves towards the docks of Kingstown.
The Irish coast was just coming into view, rising from the Irish Sea like the spines of a sea-dragon. The ferry was too far out to see the silhouettes of the Dublin Mountains against Ireland's perpetual grey skies, and it was too far south to see the mouth of the River Liffey, but the young man knew it would only be a matter of hours before he saw these familiar sights.
He was glad to be home, after several years spent in England helping his older brother in his garage. He'd finally heard from one of the many newspapers he'd applied to, in hopes that one of them would take him on, which would give him an excuse to return to Ireland, and in a few days he would be starting as a journalist in Dublin.
"Mind if I join you?"
The voice that interrupted the silence of the ferry crossing was of the sort that he had grown accustomed to during his time in England—that was to say it had the distinct softness and levelness that belonged to an Englishman with an exceptional education, usually part of the upper class. It was the kind of voice that most men like him would shrug off, ignore or even disobey if it seemed alright, but the young man saw no reason not to acknowledge the speaker.
"Not at all, no," said he, glancing to his side, if only to assess whether or not he would have to give up his position on the brow.
She was only a few inches shorter than he, with dark hair beneath an elegant, yet astoundingly practical hat—a derby with a half-rosette of ribbon tucked against the side. Beneath the brim of her hat, a pair of blue eyes with the inquisitive glimmer of a child who was seeing something for the first time looked at the young man.
"Are you going home?" she asked, lowering her gaze so at least she didn't seem more intent on him.
He could see the thought run through her head—it's rude to stare—and sure enough, he caught a flush of color in her cheeks. "I am," he answered. "And what about yourself?"
She met his eyes, and he could see her blush fade until it was just a faint rose tint in her cheeks. "I'm staying with a friend in Dublin while I take a course in nursing at the College of Surgeons."
"Do you plan to help with the war effort then?" This he said with a hint of disdain—he didn't mean to, it just happened—and when he realized this, the young man prayed that she thought nothing of it.
"I suppose so," she said, her gaze drifting towards the approaching coast. "What's Dublin like?"
"Oh it's grand, miss," he told her, following her line of sight. The coast was much closer now, and he felt a twang of homesickness in his chest. "There's plenty of great theaters and galleries, and the Phoenix Park is a good place for a picnic, though perhaps you'd like St. Stephen's Green more."
She smiled, and her cheeks flushed red again. "I'm a little nervous," she admitted. "It's silly, really, but I've never been out of England before, except to visit family in Scotland, but that's hardly as much of a journey as this is."
"I was much the same when I came to England," he said. "But you'll do fine, I'm sure miss. You seem very capable."
The blush remained. "Thank you, Mr….?"
"Tom," he supplied, then, "Tom Branson."
"Thank you Mr. Branson," said she, her eyes lighting up and a smile blossoming across her face. "I'm Sybil Crawley."
"It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Crawley."
"And you too, Mr. Branson." Sybil threw her head back, letting the wind off the waves rush around her elegant neck—Like the neck of a swan, Tom thought, trying his hardest not to stare, trying to shake the thought and the others like it that kept creeping up on him. "Welcome home, I guess."
"And welcome to Ireland, Miss Crawley," said he, stifling a laugh as pushed the wind sea spray into Sybil's face and she flinched. "Best of luck to you with your studies."
"Thank you." She dabbed at the seawater with a handkerchief. "I should be getting back inside…it's a bit chilly, I'm afraid. Good day to you, Mr. Branson."
He smiled. "The same to you, Miss Crawley."
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please leave a review, let me know what you think- you know how it goes.