The Great Bireaux

by Are Are

Five years after a sudden departure, Thomas Barrow returns to Downton a changed man- and, with a spell, he tries to unmake the past-

Jimmy had not been employed at Downton when the ages-old drama between Lady Mary and Sir Richard Carlisle had played out- though later Thomas had told him everything he'd known about it- and they had laughed at the follies of the rich, so awkwardly transparent when held against the follies of the poor.

Those were Jimmy's younger and more impressionable years, when fear over the opinions of others had pressed close to him, like a shroud- and he had shuddered at the thought of such uncouth situations being visited on himself. Heartbreak or public exposure- or even the idea of people speculating about him- made Jimmy feel ill-at-ease. A public declaration of thwarted love- or thwarted ambition, perhaps- would have been as humiliating as admitting to some grave mental deficiency. So it seemed utterly bizarre to Jimmy that Sir Richard had never sold the palacial home he had bought to live in with his erstwhile fiancée. Though everybody said it was terribly out-of-character, that Carlisle was a ruthless man who'd never failed to turn a profit, some sentimentality had ultimately stayed Sir Richard's hand. Haxby sat, unoccupied- nary a ghost traversed its empty halls- and its owner seemed content to let it moulder into ruin.

The house preoccupied Jimmy, especially because the cottage he rented was quite close to the edge of Haxby Park- on land, of course, owned by the Crawley family. Since he had finished his courses Jimmy had lived there, with the stone structure- eighteen rooms on the ground floor, towers bookending it- always empty at his back, looming like a mausoleum. Though it had at first unnerved him, Jimmy had grown accustomed to the house- as if it were an individual: his closest neighbor. And then one day Haxby was purchased, without a whisper of notice.

"They say a rich American bought the estate," Alfred told him, one sunny morning. "Have you seen him?"

"I haven't," Jimmy said. The farm looked pristine in the gold-toned light, and though they had finished with papers and accounting and payments, Jimmy felt the rare urge to linger among friends- and from Daisy he accepted another cup of coffee.

"I heard he made the owner an outrageous offer," Alfred said. "I heard he's not American at all- he's a Duke, or something, or else if he is American he's a gangster-"

"What's his name?" Daisy asked- and she took a seat, so that they all sat together, eating some of Alfred's excellent scones.

"I don't know," Jimmy said. "He's a spectre. I saw the movers, but nothing since then. Sometimes a light goes on, or the curtains move at night-"

Daisy shivered. "I wonder what's the matter with him."

"Look at you, having a fright," Alfred said, affectionately.

"Perhaps he's a vampyr," Jimmy said, smirking. "Or else he's got a half-disfigured face, like the Phantom-"

"Oh, stop it!" Daisy said, her eyes widening- and Jimmy and Alfred laughed, and let the conversation turn idly away, to meander along other subjects.

Jimmy did not catch a single glimpse of Haxby's sole occupant- but from what he deduced, the man was a strange one, and no doubt about it. No staff was employed- not even a driver- and Jimmy stretched his imaginings to encompass the idea of the rich Duke- or bootlegger- or whatever he was- fixing himself dinner, in his lonely palace. At times Jimmy doubted that anybody really lived there at all- but then he would hear an engine, coming or going- and crane his head, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who drove the automobile up the long gravel driveway. These mildest of inquiries proved fruitless; after a month Jimmy had never seen him- and so he carried on as he always had, and tried not to dwell on the mystery of it. Then construction began on the grounds- Jimmy did not know what, exactly- but he saw workers coming and going, hauling in tile-and plants, and seemingly endless trunks of belongings. The flaws in the facade of the house were tended to- the neglected grounds were manicured to near-perfection- all this, and still Jimmy never laid eyes upon the owner.

When summer first blazed its sleepy notes along the countryside, Jimmy's invisible neighbor began to throw lavish parties. On Friday evening fleets of automobiles would come flooding up the road- from, Jimmy deduced, as far away as London. From the autos partygoers always came and went, in sleekness and occasional jewel tones- onto the lawns, and drifting through the house to congregate in the back gardens. Jimmy would lay awake at night, or sit on his porch until the fireworks were lit, and listen to the riotous sounds of the revelry, overshadowed and underscored by the sweetness of an attendant orchestra.

"What do you know about the man who bought Haxby?" Jimmy asked Lord Grantham, one afternoon when they had finished with their accounting. Jimmy was tucking away papers- Branson stared at the paperwork for a lease as if he could bore holes into it with his very eyes, until Jimmy took it from under his gaze and packed it into his briefcase.

"Hm? Oh, yes," Lord Grantham said. "I don't recall his name-"

"Oh, yes," Lady Mary said, echoing her father's phrase, from where she reclined on sofa. Lady Mary had for some years now insisted on being involved in the financial concerns of Downton- much to Lord Grantham's chagrin- however she seemed frankly disinterested on the subject. Today she had been reading a book while the three men engaged in vigorous debate over rent increases- and only now did she raise her head. "Bireaux. He's supposed to be richer than Croesus. And rude."

"Barrow?" Jimmy asked, feeling his heart stutter, for a moment, in his chest. "What Barrow?"
"Bireaux," Lady Mary said, setting down her book. "Monsieur Bireaux. Evelyn's friend- Cosideau Ilke- met him once, in Berlin, and supposedly he was rather handsome and rather rude."

"Sounds like a put-off to me," Jimmy said- and from behind him Branson laughed.

"You live right next to him, don't you?" Lady Mary asked, tilting her head- Jimmy had learned that this was Lady Mary's stilted, particular way of indicating sincere interest. "Yes, and hardly sleep because of it," Jimmy said, with a laugh. "Those parties-"

"Well, what is he like?" Lady Mary asked- and Jimmy shook his head. "Never seen him."

"How mysterious. And I was so grateful to him for having bought the place out from under Sir Richard after all these years," Lady Mary went on. "Perhaps we should go over, one weekend."

"But we haven't been invited," Jimmy said.

"I can't see why you'd want to be," Lord Grantham put in, with some dignity.

"I won't go," Branson said. "I can't think of anything worse than an evening among socialites in the palace of some rich old fiend."

"Oh, but you're practiced at it by now, surely," Lady Mary said, and Jimmy stifled a laugh. Lord Grantham cleared his throat. "I am profoundly hurt by the implication," he told his daughter- who smiled back at him. "The point is moot. You don't need an invitation, nobody ever does," Lady Mary went on. "It's understood to be an open invitation."

"Quite a style of doing things," Lord Grantham commented.

"Oh, we should go, James," Lady Mary said. "I'll invite a party down from London, and-"

"Mother!" The door creaked open by painful degrees- and Jimmy crossed the room, to help George manage it . "It's too heavy," Jimmy said- and pretended to struggle with the door, huffing as if he had lost his breath- until the boy laughed, and they both stumbled back as if greatly exerted, and whooped in triumph.

"Give us a card trick, won't you, Jimmy?" George implored, looking up at Jimmy with eyes remarkably like his mother's.

"Would you please show me one card trick if it isn't too much trouble, Mr. Kent," Lady Mary corrected- but Jimmy was already obliging him.

"No, it isn't that one, either!" George said, when Jimmy showed him two incorrect cards in succession. George looked disheartened, and Jimmy laughed. "Oh, I guess my magic isn't so good today. But- but why don't you see what you have-" Jimmy reached out- "behind your ear?"

"The six of hearts! That's it!" George said, examining the card as if it were something sacred. Jimmy earned from him an admiring glance. "How do you do that trick?"

"It's not a trick," Jimmy said, solemnly. "It's magic."

When Jimmy returned to his cottage, there was a folded paper stuck into the door- and he unfolded it, and stood on the porch, reading. It was, he realized, after a moment, an invitation- to that weekend's party- signed in his neighbor's own scrawling hand: T. Bireaux. The top half had gotten wet at some point- Jimmy thought it had rained, earlier- and was now an unreadable blur- but the bottom half was still legible.

Jimmy read it twice: ...had meant to introduce myself for some time, but circumstances prevented it- look forward to seeing you there- Yours, T. Bireaux.

Certainly an invitation, Jimmy thought. With his finger Jimmy traced the T.- only for a moment- and then took himself and his briefcase inside.

When the weekend came, Jimmy dressed in his white flannels- an unnecessary purchase, made out of vanity the year before: Jimmy had never until that evening had occasion to wear the suit. The band was already tuning up next door- Jimmy played the scales along with them on an invisible piano- and then scales gave way to modern tunes, and guests began to pour in- until a knock at his door announced Lady Mary and a group of upper-crusters. Jimmy counted Evelyn Napier and the literary critic Circe Connolly among their number- and saw at the back Lady Rose, come up from London. The moneyed folk stood outside his cottage, blinking, as if they could not imagine how they had come to be in this rough country- and Jimmy flapped his half-distressed invitation in the air, earning a sound of approval from Lady Rose. "Let me see it!" Lady Rose said, coming to lean a bit too close over Jimmy. "My goodness, it's his signature! Quite aristocratic, isn't it?" Lady Rose said, holding the paper around for the group at large to see.

"Rose is quite determined to come away from with evening betrothed to Monsieur Bireaux," Lady Mary said. "Shall we?"

They made their way around the border of the grounds to the front gate. Jimmy shook hands with a man in the group he did not know, but who gave his name as Jasper Kolsch. At each mention Lady Rose made of Bireaux, Jasper looked a bit more glum.

"He's supposed to be more handsome than the Devil and twice as rich!" Lady Rose said. The giddiness in her tone suggested to Jimmy that she had already started her drinking for the evening.

"I heard he was blind," Evelyn said. "My friend made his acquaintance and told me quite definitively that he was blind. He wears dark-tinted spectacles-"

"Well he's got no lineage to speak of, at any rate," Circe broke in, in superior tones. "There's no Bireaux family I've ever heard of."

"If Circe hasn't heard of it, it doesn't exist," Lady Mary said- and she caught Jimmy's eye, sharing with him an amused glance.

"I suppose that explains why I'm the last of the Kents," Jimmy said to her, in an undertone. "Circe wasn't their to meet the rest of them into existence."

At the palacial doors they were stopped by a large man in a nondescript suit. "I- uh- we were invited," Jimmy said, standing at the front of the group. "I-" Jimmy produced the smudged paper, feeling ridiculous as he brandished it- but the attendant waved it aside. "Mr. Kent," the man said, "Monsieur Bireaux extends his courtesies. Please come in."

Jimmy half-turned, to see Lady Mary's arched eyebrow- and then they were being let in to a vaulted hall, filled with people.

"It's strange to see it so changed," Lady Mary said- and Jimmy nodded, as they fought through the crowd, though he had no basis for comparison.

The party was a fantastical thing- from the East gallery to the West there was amusment in every room- singers, and pianos arranged artfully- each with a player, be they amateur or hired- and fleets of servers with trays of sparkling drinks- and dancing, dancing everywhere. In the conservatory people smoked hookahs on velvet cushions- and Jimmy surveyed the room- a girl caught his eye, and patted the cushion beside her- but Jimmy shook his head apologetically no, and went on to further explorations. For a while they stuck together as a group- but the clique broke apart as they drifted into the backyard- which was full to bursting.

"I've never seen anything like this," Jimmy said. He was frankly awestuck by the scope of the fête.

"Nor have I," Lady Mary said. "That swimming pool used to be a fountain. They've kept the old statue, though. This is quite a sight." Across her face appreared the faraway look that Jimmy had come to understand meant she was thinking of her late husband- but then someone recognized Lady Mary- and she turned away to greet them. Jimmy walked on, buffeted by the crowd like a raft lost upon strange currents. Monsieur Bireaux seemed to have bought up the world's supply of crepe and confetti- it hung or floated or dragged everywhere, in colors that seemed glib against the elegance of the bar and buffet tents, filling the scene with ambiance. Around the pool- and in the pool- men in suits worth more than Jimmy's salary- and women in dresses slight as linen napkins- danced with wild abandon. A man in a dark plum vest- the band leader- sang on the stage-

"Down by the stream," he sang, dancing along to the music-
"How sweet it will seem,
Once more to dream in the moonlight-"

The instuments underscored the tune, making it richer, and through the throng Jimmy wove, looking at the way the bright stars of the countryside were dwarfed by the many lanterns hung for the guests. "Bireaux?" A man in a bowler said, to a man in a feather boa- "I've never met him. But I heard he was a prince in hiding-"

"I heard he was a picture star!" A woman joined in- and Jimmy, idling by to listen, neatly picked a glass of champagne off of the tray of a server.

"I heard he's the one true identity of T. E. Lawrence," The man in the boa said, "but that doesn't mean it's true-"

Jimmy's sleeve was caught in a grip, and he turned to find Evelyn, looking as if he was already a bit drunk. "Evening, James," Evelyn said, and clapped a hand to his shoulder. "Evening, Evelyn," Jimmy said, concealing his amusement.

"Lovely night," Evelyn went on, conversationally. "I feel a bit too old to be at this party."

"I think it's rather marvellous," Jimmy said- for some reason that made Evelyn laugh. "You do? Honestly? I couldn't tell, you're impossible-" Evelyn said. "-but James- Jimmy- may I ask you something?"

"Of course," Jimmy said. He scanned the crowd, looking for Bireaux- though he hadn't the slightest idea how he would recognize the man on sight.

"Are you- have you ever thought about you and Mary?"

Jimmy laughed aloud at the idea of Lady Mary taking up with someone who used to serve her suppers. "Lady Mary? No, Evelyn. Don't be ridiculous." Evelyn ducked his head, looking slightly ashamed.

"Anyhow," Jimmy went on, "I thought you'd given up on the idea, years ago. Before she married."

"Hope, the nemesis of reason," Evelyn said, ruefully. "I suppose it's Charles I should be worried about." Charles was the given name of Circe Connolly- he was known as such because of his legendary wickedness. Only Evelyn ever used his proper name. Jimmy sometimes felt astonished by the rich- now that he was considered working class and could associate with them, in a limited way, instead of existing merely as furniture. They- the upper class, that was- seemed so strangely stunted, somehow- with their nicknames and their intellectual anachronisms- as if they had never grown up, clinging always to their ancestral homes, and surrounded by the things of their dreamlike childhoods.

"But she loathes Circe," Jimmy said, and Evelyn nodded, mournfully. "All the more reason for me to be concerned," Evelyn said. "Oh, there they are-"

Lady Rose and Lady Mary waved from nearer to the stage, and Jimmy steered himself and Evelyn through the crowd. They arrived- and Jimmy passed Evelyn off to Circe, and shook hands with Jack Ross, who had come to the party from London.

"There's no meaning to it,
Yet we overdo it, With a relish that is hellish to endure;" the bandleader sang-
"I am not the kind that merely flirts;
I just love and love until it hurts-"

"Jack says that this is wilder than everything in London!" Lady Rose told Jimmy, excitedly.
"I didn't say that," Jack yelled, over the din. "Not everything!"

"Darling you're so handsome," the singer went on,
"Strong and clever and sometimes you seem, dear,
Like a dream, dear, that came true-
That's why I picked you out;
Better men I threw out
Of my living room while giving room to you;
I would rather read of love in books;
Love is much more painful than it looks-"

"I love this tune!" Lady Rose said, and Jimmy caught Jack's eyeroll and grinned. Jimmy began to sing along-

"Oh, sentimental me and poor romantic you;
Dreaming dreams is all that we can do;
We hang around all day and ponder,
While both of us grow fonder
The Lord knows where we're wandering to!" Jimmy sang, and Lady Rose tried to speak over him, in drunken consternation- and then Jack laughed, and joined in singing with him, so that they both hollered out the ending-

"I sit and sigh; you sigh and sit upon my knee;
We laugh and cry, and never disagree;
A million kisses we'll make theft of
Until there's nothing left of poor romantic you and sentimental me-"

"Well, really!" Lady Rose said, when they had finished, and Jack and Jimmy laughed.

"Mr. Kent?" Jimmy was tapped on the shoulder, he turned around, still smiling, to discover a blank-faced man in a suit at his elbow. "Monsieur Bireaux would like to speak with you."

"Monsieur Bireaux?" Lady Rose exclaimed- but the man was beckoning for Jimmy to follow him, and so Jimmy did, pushing through the crowded yard and into the overfilled mansion- and finally following the attendant up a flight of stairs. They went further and further into the house- and through half-opened doors Jimmy caught glimpses of rooms overflowing with odd antiques- and his curiosity grew- accompanied by a strange sense of surreality.

Finally they paused before a set of double doors, and the attendant opened it, and stepped back, indicating that Jimmy should go in. "Thank you," Jimmy said- making sure not to treat the attendant like furniture- and he took a deep breath, finding himself suddenly anxious- and stepped inside.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the low light- and then Jimmy saw a long study, with a window at the far end- a window that overlooked the backyard revelry- and before the window stood a man- his hands clasped behind himself- his back turned- silhouetted by the light from below.

Even before the man turned round, Jimmy knew who it was. He would have known that posture- that posture, so perfect that it betrayed a life of service- anywhere.

"Thomas," Jimmy said- he felt overwhelmed- his most wild fantasies about the identity of Monsieur Bireaux had come true- and the strangeness of it, the improbability of it- warred with joy in Jimmy's head, making him feel as if he were suspended in a waking dream.

Thomas turned around, and Jimmy saw his face for the first time in five years- and blinked- taking a few steps closer, to better look at him.

"My god, it's really you," Jimmy said, unable to help himself from smiling. Thomas had not been aged by the intervening years- his face was still persisted in all of its unusual beauty- but his hair was combed back in a different style, and shot through with silver at one temple- the left. Resting atop his head Thomas had a pair of spectacles- round-rimmed, and filled with green-tinted glass that caught the light and turned it emerald.

"I can't believe it," Jimmy said, approaching Thomas, his arms outstretched. Jimmy meant to embrace Thomas- but when he was an arm's length away Thomas stuck out his hand- and said, evenly, "James, my dear chap. So good to see you again."

Jimmy balked- and awkwardly turned his arm in, to shake Thomas's hand. James, my dear chap. It was an oddly stiff greeting- not Thomas, not Thomas at all- and Jimmy felt cold, as if he had stumbled into an unexpected winter. "So good to-" Jimmy repeated, blankly- and he clasped Thomas's hand, urgently. "It's been five years, Thomas! And now you've come back as a great secret- and- and- why haven't you come to visit me?"

"A combination of circumstances prevented me," Thomas said. Jimmy felt as if he could weep- to see Thomas- with the quirk of his lips and the line of his face as it had always been- so heartrendingly familiar, even after all this time- coupled with the distance of his voice. "I'm so glad to see you now, though," Thomas said- and his eyes moved across Jimmy's face- and then, to Jimmy's vast relief, Thomas pulled- from the pocket of his very expensive suit- a lighter- the same lighter he had always owned- and reached into the tray on his desk, for a cigarette. Still here, and still himself, Jimmy thought- and felt unsteady, suddenly. He put one inconspicuous hand on the edge of the desk, for balance.

"And this is all yours, then? All this?" Jimmy asked, and Thomas nodded, over his cigarette. "Yes."

"And the motor? The grey car?" Jimmy pressed. In the mornings and the evenings Jimmy had watched it come and go. Sometimes the car would not return for days- and sometimes it would return in earliest morning- it was sleek as a swan, and raincloud-grey- and Jimmy pondered the thought that Thomas was the one who drove it back and forth.

Thomas nodded. "Yes, all of it," Thomas said- his tone suggested that he was not gloating- just stating a fact- one as basic as any universal law.

"And the Count?" Jimmy asked, trying to sound unaffected.

"Dead these past nine months," Thomas said, exhaling smoke. From below faint strains of music came, filling the pauses between them.

"You never wrote," Jimmy said, after a moment. "I couldn't get even an address. My letters came back."

"Yes, well. I traveled a lot," Thomas said, lightly. It was an evasion, Jimmy thought- and he couldn't bear it- to be in the moment he had spent so many evenings dwelling on and to have Thomas seem so- so separate from him. They had been inseparable, once- they had become, after everything, the dearest of friends- they had spent any idle hours they had together. Right up until the very moment he left, Jimmy thought. The champagne he had consumed, combined with the shock of seeing Thomas again made Jimmy's throat feel tight- he cleared it, against Thomas's silence.

"But you sent me money every month," Jimmy said- and Thomas looked at him sharply, his brow furrowing- and then away. "I thought you'd like to get away," Thomas said, after a pause. "But you stayed here."

"Yes," Jimmy said, "-of course I did, I-" But he could not finish the sentence in the way that it was meant to be finished- not in the face of Thomas's standoffishness- his air of- of meeting Jimmy for the first time.

There was a moment of silence- and then Thomas took the green spectacles off of his head, and put them on, so that his pale eyes were obscured by green glass- and he turned away from Jimmy, to face the window.

"W-well," Jimmy said, to Thomas's back- feeling a slow pain begin to spread through him, twisting his insides- "Why don't you come down and see everybody? They're all wondering who you are. You're richer than the family now, I bet-"

"I don't give a hang about showing off for them," Thomas said, suddenly, and with vehemence- and the tone was familiar- Thomas's put-out tone- and even that little shred of familiarity made Jimmy feel as if he could weep from relief.

"Then why do all this?" Jimmy asked, coming to stand by Thomas's side, at the window. This isn't how it was supposed to go, Jimmy cried, internally. You're meant to have your arms around me by now. But perhaps Thomas's feelings has changed, Jimmy mused, sickly- perhaps it was too late. I should've told him how I felt, years ago, when I had the chance, Jimmy thought. He glanced over at Thomas- in profile, he could see both Thomas's eyes and the glass of the spectacles shading them- and how Thomas blinked, looking with fixed intensity down into the crowded yard. "If you don't care- why move back here? Why throw these- these incredible parties?"

Thomas laughed- and pushed the spectacles up to the top of his head again. "James," he said, very formally and very seriously- "I wonder- do you think that- if someone made the music loud enough, and the lights bright enough- and the spectacle broad enough- that they could throw a party grand enough to call someone to it, from out of the past?"

Jimmy squinted, confused. "Uh- and so you have- for here we all are," Jimmy said, after a beat, but Thomas shook his head, a definitive no. "I don't mean people from my own past," Thomas said- his tone was dismissive, and the dismissiveness of it cut Jimmy like a knife. "I mean from the past. From a time already gone by."

"I don't follow you," Jimmy said. His voice sounded hollow in his own ears- and he reached forward, resting one hand on Thomas's forearm. "But- Thomas- can't we just-"

"You look much changed, dear chap," Thomas said. It was the first acknowledgement he had made of them ever having met before.

"I don't think so," Jimmy said, feeling stung.

"Your hair," Thomas said. "And your eyes."

"My eyes-" Jimmy repeated, removing his hand from Thomas's unresponsive arm- and bringing it, self-consciously, to his face. "What about my eyes?"

"Ah-" Thomas said, a troubled expression moving over his face- "listen- I want to show you something- something important. But you must swear to secrecy."

"What?" Jimmy asked, bewildered by the subject change. Jimmy felt lost- the dream that he had nurtured, these past years, seemed in danger of crumbling into dust, in the face of the one man who should have held the key to his happiness. Jimmy remembered, abruptly, an evening half a decade previous, when he had snuck away with Thomas, out over the long hilly fields, to watch a meteor shower.

"It's lovely," Jimmy had said, as they'd meandered in the dark, watching the corona of stars that blazed and shifted brightly above them- and Thomas had shrugged, even in the face of that great spectacle remaining effortlessly nonchalant. "Sure it is," Thomas had answered- and in the flickering evening Jimmy had seen that Thomas was looking into his face, and not at the stars at all.

"Something you can't ever tell anyone about," Thomas said now, dragging Jimmy roughly back into the present.

"Uh- I swear," Jimmy said, pain warring with confusion in his mind. "What is it?"

"I can't explain," Thomas said- and stepped back, to grind out his cigarette in a standing ashtray. "I'll have to show you." Then Thomas reached up- and pulled the green eyeglasses off of his head- and held them out, to Jimmy.

"Put them on," Thomas said- his lips were pulled taut in an expression of concentration, his eyes intent- "and look out the window." With this he pressed the spectacles into Jimmy's hands- and Jimmy felt, for an instant, the tremor that ran through Thomas's fingers.

"Put them-"

"On," Thomas said, with some intensity- and Jimmy slid on the glasses- they felt cool against his heated skin- and looked out the window.

The world was green- and hazy, a perfect jewel, and below him the partygoers turned, in an impossibly dense mass- and Jimmy started, in surprise. There were an impossible amount of people below- and not just in risque modern garb. A garden party was taking place in the center of the dance floor- a table with a full spread, surrounded by chairs- and in the chairs women sat in hoop skirts and shawls, taking tea- and men in old fashioned suits lifted monocles to their eyes, to examine the food-

Jimmy blinked. And also on the dance floor people danced through the table- and the table moved through them- as if they were occupying the same space, and both and neither were present. In the middle of the lawn the pool shone like a jewel- but the pool was also a fountain, old stone instead of tile- and the same statue, old and new, in the center of each- and bodies over bodies, eras and things juxtaposed against each other- and underneath it all the untouched prehistoric wilderness- as if Jimmy were seeing everything that had ever happened, at once-

"Augh," Jimmy said, and pulled the eyeglasses from his face. He drew a shuddering breath, and looked out the window again- but there were no spectres of the past- no garden party- no old fountain- only the pool and the dancers and the heated night. Thomas nodded, looking at Jimmy expectantly. "It's a bit disorienting, at first," Thomas said. "I've found it's easier if you- sort've think on what time you'd like to see."

"That's a good trick," Jimmy said, hoarsely. He felt winded- breathless- as if he had been running. "How d'ya do it?"

"It's not a trick," Thomas said. "Put them on and take a look around the room-"

Jimmy, skeptical as he was, found that he could not contain his curiosity, and he put on the spectacles once more, and looked back, into the room.

At another desk- not Thomas's- an aged man hunched over papers, writing with a- Jimmy squinted- a quill- and though his vision was tinted green, Jimmy could not deny that he saw the man- and, in a patch of sunlight, impossible in the depths of evening, a group of children played at jacks- children from a more recent era- sandy haired boys and a dark-haired girl, with a serious expression that seemed familiar to Jimmy- and up against the wall a younger version of the man at the desk kissed a woman in ardent passion, his hand sliding under her dress- and at a nonexistent setee three figures wept- a woman clasped her hands- and then brushed aside her dark veil, to wipe her tearstained face-

"Lord," Jimmy said- and took off the green specs, with a shudder. "What is that? Thomas- how do you do that?"

"It isn't me," Thomas said- he too looked out over the room, as if imagining the past that stirred within it. "It's the eyeglasses. A gift from Greco."

"Greco," Jimmy repeated, uncomprehendingly. "You mean Count Tepaesti?"

Thomas nodded- and Jimmy caught from him another recognizable look- unhappiness- Jimmy saw it in the line of Thomas's lips. Even in the face of these new wonders, Jimmy could not help himself- and he said, without meaning to- "God, Thomas, why did you go with him? That old man-"

"There's something more I have to show you, dear chap," Thomas said, over the end of Jimmy's question- and Jimmy stared at him, with the spectacles still clutched in one of his trembling hands. "Thomas," Jimmy implored- but Thomas only looked at him, with a gaze that was both imploring- and hopelessly far away. "Are you saying that I can really see the- the past with these?" Jimmy asked. It was not the question he had meant to ask- but it seemed to be the right question- because Thomas nodded, and smiled a tight little half-smile. "I hope it isn't too much to cope with," Thomas said, his tone carefully pleasant.

"It isn't," Jimmy said, lowly. "It's not the strangest thing that's happened tonight."

"You believe it, then?" Thomas asked, ignoring the implications of Jimmy's statement- and Jimmy bit his lip- and nodded, after a moment. He was rewarded by a genuine smile from Thomas- who touched his shoulder- and indicated that Jimmy should follow him.

"So was the Count a wizard, or something? A warlock?" Jimmy asked- and he passed through the door as Thomas held it for him, and into the hallway. "Put them on," Thomas said. "There are so many people who've gone through these halls- it's quite a sight to behold-"

Jimmy put on the eyeglasses- and admired the forest-green walls and the emerald floorboards- and the grass-toned servants and noblemen who came and went, walking betwixt and between each other- and then a housemaid with an armful of linens walked right through Jimmy- and he didn't feel it, but he yelped, all the same, and twisted away. "A woman walked into me," Jimmy said, wrenching the spectacles from his face- his palms were sweating, and his heart racing. "Thomas- she went through me-"

Thomas nodded sagely, and took the eyeglasses as Jimmy proffered them. "They can't hurt you," Thomas said- and put the glasses on himself, transforming his face into the mask of a young eccentric, playing at age with a silver streak in his hair. "But," Thomas said, looking around, from behind the green frames- "it is a bit startling."

He led Jimmy through the hall- and Jimmy glanced uneasily at the empty walls- they were high, and dark, with lighter squares of wood where old paintings had long hung and since been removed. "So the Count made you his heir?" Jimmy asked, and Thomas nodded, once- and directed Jimmy over to a wall of windows, in the middle of a hall, with a little round table situated before it. On the table was pair of binoculars- and Thomas picked them up in one elegant hand- the left- and Jimmy saw that Thomas's glove was made of a sable-colored leather, with onyx buttons. That glove must have cost what I earn in a month, and those cufflinks- what I make in a year,Jimmy thought. The idea did not impress him- rather, it made him sad, as if Thomas were very far away from him.

"Look at this," Thomas said- sounding more excited as he put the binoculars to his bespectacled eyes than he had about seeing Jimmy again. Thomas held the binoculars with one hand- and pointed outwards with the other- across a view of night-covered fields- to the very small impression- Jimmy could glimpse it if he squinted- of lights, in the distant dark. "Is that Downton, over there?" Jimmy asked- and Thomas nodded. Looking up at his partially obscured face, Jimmy could see that a flush had come to Thomas's cheeks- Thomas, possessed of the ability to be effortlessly still when required, rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, excited as a child.

The Count was a wizard, Jimmy thought, watching Thomas watch the darkness through sheets of glass. The Count was a wizard, and Thomas has come back quite mad. And with a window into the past.

"I'm not just looking at the house, you know," Thomas said, in an eager voice, putting the binoculars down, and looking at Jimmy. "I'm looking at it as it was. If I got close enough- or if you did- wearing the eyeglasses- we could see ourselves."

"I gathered that," Jimmy said, uneasily. He wondered, for the first time, if he actually was dreaming. It was not like Jimmy to doubt his own mind- but the party- and Monsieur Bireaux, unmasked, to reveal Thomas- and the spectacles-

"Is this really happening?" Jimmy asked, in a small voice- he hated how it sounded coming from him- it was not the version of himself that he wanted to present to Thomas, on their first meeting after all this time. But Thomas only nodded, still staring through the window. As Jimmy watched, Thomas tore his gaze away- as if with an effort- and looked at Jimmy- his expression very flat, giving nothing away. "And that's why I- my dear chap, I must ask of you the most tremendous favor."

"Only if you stop calling me that," Jimmy snapped, feeling his temper begin to get the best of him under the barrage of all the strangeness. "It sounds affected. I don't like it."

"Calling you-" Thomas's mouth turned down. "Oh. I'm sorry, my dear ch- James. I'm sorry, James. It's just-" Thomas made a vague gesture.

"What favor?" Jimmy asked, trying not to be overly hurt by Thomas's responses- but pain suffused him anways, making his tone clipped.

"I- I don't mean to put a burden on you- but you're the only one who can help me, y'see," Thomas went on- and Jimmy saw Thomas reach again for his lighter. "Oh," Thomas said, feeling around in his pockets- "my cigarettes are in the study-"

"Here, have one of mine," Jimmy said- and pulled out a pack. "Woodbines, see," Jimmy said, quietly, as Thomas pulled out a cigarette. "I still smoke them."

"Hmm," Thomas said- and lifted one to his dark lips- the image so recognizable to Jimmy that he had to look away, and swallow around the lump in his throat.

"I bet you haven't had something so working-class in years," Jimmy said, when he again trusted himself to speak.

"What?" Thomas asked. Thomas smoked in the most particular way that Jimmy had ever seen- it was above imitation, and it had remained the same through the intervening time. "Oh," Thomas said, and laughed- a jovial chuckle that had an edge of nerves to it. "Right you are. Still good though."

"The favor you had to ask of me," Jimmy prompted again, and Thomas took a long drag of the cigarette, as if bracing himself for something. "Yes. Well- I need you to-" Thomas paused- and lifted the emerald eyeglasses from his face, in a practiced gesture- so that Jimmy was confronted directly with his gaze. "I need you to take my spectacles- and go and get him for me," Thomas said, in a rush. "Just get him to come to your cottage. Tomorrow. For tea. Say four o'clock."

"Get- get who?" Jimmy asked, thrown by the request.

"But- Jimmy, of course," Thomas said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world- and Jimmy blinked rapidly, unsure of what he had heard. "But I'm right here," Jimmy said, speaking to Thomas as if he were hard of hearing. "Why would I have to go get myself?"

"I know you're here," Thomas said, his expression twisting into a frown. "I see you, James- and thank God for you- because you're the only one who can do it. I could do it, if I wanted to speak with myself- but it's Jimmy I have to see. I'll show you how to get him-"

"You want me to-" Jimmy looked at Thomas. Mad, yes, certainly he's mad, Jimmy thought. But then, the eyeglasses-

"Go and fetch him to tea, yes," Thomas repeated.

"Me. From- from the past," Jimmy said, in blank astonishment.

"From five years ago- the day I left, or just after, if you can manage it," Thomas said, nodding his agreement. "The glasses alone won't be enough, though. You have to take a certain bell- I'll get it- and ring it three times when you first glimpse his face, and then he'll be able to follow you- and interact with us-"

"You want me to cast a spell- and unhinge my own past self from time- just to take tea with you," Jimmy said. "But- this isn't to say I believe I could do any of that- but why?"

"Because- I have to show him," Thomas said- and then in Thomas's visage Jimmy saw all the love- all the old vagaries of emotion that once had worked on Thomas's face- in evidence- and despite his fear, and bewilderment- Jimmy felt his heart skip one perfect beat.

"To show him what?" Jimmy asked, as if they were not talking about himself.

"All of this," Thomas said- and his the hand that held the cigarettes he made a sweeping gesture, taking in all the space around them- even the night that crept in from the windowpanes. "Everything I've gotten for us."

"But- but I'm right here," Jimmy said, his tone struck through with the panicky quality of desperation that suffused him. "I see it- and I don't even care, Thomas, only I'm so glad-" Jimmy took a step forward, into Thomas's space- and Thomas, his expression fixed, but distant- took a step back- and Jimmy halted his forward progress, dropping his hands. "I'm right here," Jimmy repeated- but Thomas only shook his head once, as if to deny the words.

"Greco gave me a way to undo what I had given up," Thomas said- and Jimmy scowled at the name. "I don't care about any of that, I stopped being angry by the end of the second year," Jimmy said. "I'm just grateful you came back. You don't need to do anything."

"All the same, dear chap," Thomas said, giving Jimmy a strained smile- "I'd appreciate it- more than anything, really- if you would do this for me."

Jimmy searched Thomas's face for anything- a hint of acknowledgement, a whisper of comprehension- but Thomas only looked at him. "Please," Thomas said, quietly- and Jimmy nodded, just to wipe the pleading look from the other man's face. "Fine," Jimmy said, harshly. "Fine, I'll bloody well do it. Just tell me what needs to be done."

"You will," Thomas said, sighing in relief. "Oh, James, I can't thank you enough. Let me get- the bell- come with me, won't you?" Thomas asked- and Jimmy followed him, feeling as if he walked along the edge of a vast abyss.

They stopped in a bedroom- Jimmy thought it was a bedroom- but it was sans bed, and filled up with the strangest artifacts that Jimmy had ever seen- an apothecary cabinet that must have boasted five hundred drawers, all of them pulled out and stacked neatly in front of it- an enormous version of a miniature ship, in a bottle the size of a valise- and older things- crystal spheres in a row, bundles of dried flowers- outlandishly ancient furniture- all arranged haphazardly, in an odd contrast to the elegance of the surrounding room. From a glass case that rested atop a carved wooden chair, Thomas pulled out a silver bell- and Jimmy saw that there were other bells within the case, all neatly laid out- and all of different shapes and sizes. The one Thomas held up was small, with a round body and a long, narrow stem. Thomas shook it gently, so that the clapper hit the inside of the rim, and it produced a very light ringing- more like a suggestion of a sound than a sound at all. "You must go to the house- making sure to wear the glasses," Thomas told Jimmy, as if he were conveying secrets of the utmost urgency- "-and think of five years ago- and find him there- and when you see his face-"

"See my face, you mean," Jimmy interjected- and Thomas nodded, in absent agreement. "Yes. Certainly," Thomas said. "-and when you see his face, you ring old Ursitoare-"

"What?" Jimmy asked.

"Ursitoare, that's the bell's name," Thomas said.

"Thomas," Jimmy said- "this is really too much- you have to tell me about the Count-"

"I don't want to speak of him," Thomas said- and a quirk of his lips again gave away some unhappiness, and kept Jimmy from pressing the point.

"You ring old Ursitoare three times, after you first clap eyes on him," Thomas went on, as if there had been no interruption- "and then- then he'll see you- he'll be surprised, of course- but you must persuade him to follow you- and bring him to the cottage. I'll wait there."

"You'll wait there," Jimmy echoed. "And then- and when you see him- what then?"

"Ah," Thomas said- and touched one hand to his hair, as if making sure that it hadn't slipped out of place- but Jimmy recognized the movement as one of Thomas's rarely-displayed nervous gestures. "Why. I'll tell him how I feel- and I'll ask him if he feels the same way."

"And if he does?" Jimmy asked. Absurdly he felt the hot sting of tears, pricking at the corners of his eyes- but he fought down the reaction, looking to the side, to gain a modicum of composure.

"I know he does. He must. I could almost- I felt his love so- strongly, sometimes," Thomas said, quietly. "But- he was very afraid, y'see- my Jimmy. He couldn't have ever managed it- not to go against the world." Thomas looked over Jimmy's shoulder, smiling at some memory. "He told me once that money was the only way people managed to get away with anything scandalous at all. We used to speak on it all the time- what we'd do if we were rich, if we could go anywhere. I said America- but he would always tease me about it, saying he knew I'd prefer the Black Forest- or maybe-"

"Maybe Switzerland, because you liked clocks so much," Jimmy said, trying to keep his voice even.

"Mmm, just so," Thomas said, looking back into Jimmy's face. "My dear chap, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," Jimmy muttered. "Nothing. So I'll see you about four, then?"

"Well- I thought I might come over earlier," Thomas said. "With some things- for tea."

"Fine, that's fine," Jimmy said, unsteadily- and took the bell- and lastly Thomas removed the spectacles from his head- and handed then to Jimmy, who folded them up, and placed them in his pocket, feeling their coldness even through his clothing.

Thomas led him back to the top of the stairwell. "I really can't thank you enough," Thomas said- and Jimmy realized that Thomas was saying good night to him- Thomas was dismissing him- as if they were casual acquaintances, occupying one another's time with no real purpose.

"Have a lovely evening," Thomas said, raising an eyebrow, when Jimmy did not respond. "You should enjoy the party a bit more. It's only just getting started. Fireworks at midnight."

"Yes, thank you," Jimmy said- and his voice broke on you, so that he had to shut his mouth. He gave Thomas one last, searching look- and then he turned away.

"I'll come by around noon," Thomas said, to his back. "Just to make sure everything is in order."

Jimmy did not answer him. He took the stairs two at a time, running away from the strange mad version of Thomas that dwelt upstairs, practicing witchcraft and pretending that they had never known each other- and on the ground floor Jimmy pressed through people as determinedly as he could, trying not to think about the many eras which seemed to exist around him- which he could see, if he put the spectacles on. Outside the lanterns blazed with brilliant golden halos- Jimmy wondered why it was so, and then realized that he was seeing through a veil of unshed tears.

"Mary," Jimmy said- in his consternation dropping all formality- and he grasped Lady Mary's elbow. "I have to go," he managed, when she turned to him. "I'm very sorry. I'll see you on Wednesday."

"But- did you meet him?" Lady Mary asked- she arched her eyebrow upward, in an expression of concern. It was not the first time this mannerism of hers had reminded Jimmy of Thomas- but seeing it now cut like a knife, and Jimmy turned away from her. "I'll tell you all about it, on Wednesday," Jimmy said, as lightly as he could manage- and he strode away from her as quickly as the tide of dancers permitted, making his way to the edge of the yard. Madness, it's all madness, Jimmy thought- and the sounds of the party lay close at his back all the way down the path that led to his cottage.

Inside Jimmy switched on all the lights- and sat, with his head in his hands, on the sofa. He did not cry- though he had been about to, moments before- the tears vanished, leaving him with only a hollow feeling, and the phantom urge to sob. He felt as if his heart were constricted- and, unwillingly, Jimmy was swept into the past- and he remembered the week that the Count had come to Downton.

---

Count Tepaesti was very distinguished- and very old- Jimmy guessed that he was at least forty-five years Thomas's senior. But the Count was even richer than he was aged- and he had been, in one period, acquainted with the Dowager Countess. And so- on a whim, perhaps- he had come for a visit.

"Looks like a ghoul to me," Jimmy said, one evening. They had put on a full show for the Count's arrival- and now, at the end of a long day, he and Thomas sat up alone, at the table in the servant's hall.

"He gave me the eye," Thomas said- and smirked, at Jimmy's disgusted expression. "Didn't mean to offend your sensibilities," Thomas added, flicking ash from the end of a cigarette into the waiting ashtray. "It's not that," Jimmy said, with a snort. "It's just- he's so old. Maybe- maybe if he was going after Mr. Carson-"

Thomas broke up in laughter- and Jimmy grinned, pleased to have earned such a reaction. "Give us a cigarette, won't you," Jimmy said, when Thomas had recovered himself.

"Anyways he's Italian or something," Thomas said, wickedly. "I think that's normal practice for them." He lit a cigarette- and passed it over the table, to Jimmy's accepting fingers.

"Quit stalling," Jimmy said. "It's your turn." With his free hand Jimmy indicated the game of cards that they had been lingering over.

"Oh, I fold," Thomas said, acerbically. "You're too good, you cheat. No fun to play with."

"It's fun for me," Jimmy said, catching Thomas's eye. Under the table their shoes bumped together, until Jimmy shifted his legs slightly away. His thoughts had been so filled up with Thomas Barrow as of late that Jimmy could not stand it- the whisper of Thomas's breath or the brush of his legs became too much to endure- and Jimmy was forever pulling back, to keep his distance. But desire, he found, was a slippery slope- and each day he slipped- and almost fell- and righted himself, to begin again his weary upward march. It was an exercise in futility, of course. For a year and several months- since Matthew Crawley had died, and Thomas had saved Jimmy's skin one ill-fated day in Thirsk- the pair of them had spent their every spare hour together. After a while Jimmy had stopped holding his breath, waiting for someone to remark upon their friendship. No one ever remarked upon it- except for Alfred, and then only in the mildest, most approving way: he was glad that Jimmy had found it within himself to forgive Mr. Barrow. O'Brien would have commented, surely- but she had gone. And after that Jimmy had begun to fall in love with Thomas- or else he had been in love all along, and was too foolish to know it.

Jimmy had a plan, though- he was putting money by- and one day he would gather up all his courage, and show Thomas exactly how he felt. Jimmy spent nights alone in his room, imagining the scenario, his heart pounding in excitement and fear. Thomas would reciprocate, of course- Jimmy could see that Thomas loved him in every aspect of the other man's being- and they would escape together, in their forbidden love, to lands unknown.

"Escape," Jimmy would whisper, to his silent bedroom- and clutch his terrible, magnificent secret of love close to his chest- and exist within it. Love-drowned, he was- and Jimmy figured it was fitting punishment: he had scorned love most of any man, so it was only just that love be visited upon him with such ravaging intensity. His dreams were filled with Thomas- Thomas beside him, above him, within him- and Jimmy could scarcely meet Thomas's gaze over the morning table- but he met it anyways, because he couldn't help himself.

Jimmy was aware that his behavior seemed inconsistent to Thomas- he could catch a glimpse of it, sometimes, in the tilt of Thomas's head- or his own moments of clearer self-reflection- but there was nothing for it. He was powerless against his love for Thomas- for his wit, and his ways, and for his looks, and for the pleasure of his company- and for the comfort of his presence, like nothing Jimmy had ever known. Jimmy betrayed his love for Thomas a thousand times a day, in myriad ways- but he always kept himself back. There was a final line: physicality, or a declaration of intent- and Jimmy would not cross it. When I have it I won't be able to give it up, Jimmy thought. Thus: escape. But not until he was prepared.

"You should save your money, y'know," Jimmy said, disapprovingly, when Thomas had come back from one of his half-days with a new tie. "Looks nice," Jimmy added- his gaze lingering for a moment on Thomas's attire- "but you shouldn't spend so."

"And why not?" Thomas replied, imperiously. "It's my money, isn't it?"

"Suppose you want to do something," Jimmy said, after a pause. "You need money to do just about anything in this world."

"Do what, exactly?" Thomas had asked- but Jimmy hadn't been quite ready to answer that.

When the Count came Jimmy found himself unsettled by the man- he was a guest, and Jimmy had only limited contact with him- but there was something undeniably unpleasant about him. Perhaps he had once been handsome- the Count was too old to tell exactly what he had looked like in his youth- but he had a particular vitality that drew your eyes to him- and an almost loathsome countenance- strong-jawed and dark eyed, with a beard- not pleasant, but masculine- and not quite looking his age. But his eyes gave it away. The Count's eyes were immeasurably old- old as ruins- and in their darkness they followed Thomas around every room. Jimmy watched the Count watching Thomas, and he found that it made him deeply uneasy.

"That valet- Azello- told me that the Count wanted to speak to me after dinner," Thomas said, to Jimmy, later in the week. They were alone- Jimmy seated on the piano bench, Thomas to his side, in one of the chairs- and Jimmy turned away from the keys, to give Thomas a sharp look. "What?" Jimmy hissed. "Did you- you didn't go, did you?"

Thomas made a face of disgust. "So that some old codger can try his hand at me? What d'ya think?"

"Sounds plausible," Jimmy said, laughing at the enormity of his own relief. "Don't ever be alone with him, though, Thomas," Jimmy added, in more serious tones. "I wouldn't trust him at all. Not for a heartbeat."

"Yes, I'll be on guard, lest he attack me," Thomas answered, dryly- but Jimmy nevertheless shuddered. "I don't like him," Jimmy said, in more subdued tones. Looking at Thomas for prolonged periods of time had the laughable effect of making Jimmy feel shy- and he felt it now, meeting Thomas's eyes. "He watches you."

"Probably imagining me starkers," Thomas said- and Jimmy felt himself blush- because he had so often imagined the same thing. In Jimmy's dreams that night, Thomas lay over him, with an expression of concentration that turned slowly into pleasure- and they moved togther, over and over again, in unending bliss.

On the last day of the Count's stay- before he left, at some ungodly early hour, for London and then abroad- Jimmy had walked by the drawing room, with Carson, and Alfred- and seen the Count seated in one of the high-backed chairs, alone. Afterwards Jimmy had looked for Thomas in the back courtyard- and even in his room- but couldn't find him again, until it was time to serve- and then there was no chance for them to speak to one another. After dinner and drinks Jimmy and Alfred packed up the Count's valises- he would be leaving even before they awoke- and finally, when he was well worn out, Jimmy went downstairs, to take his meal.

Thomas was absent again at the servant's dinner, and Jimmy worriedly watched the Count's valet- Azello- to see if he gave anything away- and afterwards Jimmy loitered downstairs when everyone else had gone to bed, until Thomas appeared, in the doorway, holding a covered plate.

"Late supper?" Jimmy asked, looking up from his cards- and Thomas nodded, not meeting his eyes.

"You were scarce this evening," Jimmy said, keeping his voice light with an effort.

"Yes," Thomas said- and spoke no more about it- which made Jimmy feel terribly, terribly afraid.

Jimmy lingered outside of Thomas's bedroom door, as they said their goodnights- and at the last possible moment, he cleared his throat. Thomas paused- he had been shutting the door- and looked at Jimmy. Jimmy saw the wealth of affection in Thomas's eyes- which were so cold when he looked at anybody else- and felt reassured. "Sleep well," Jimmy whispered, leaning forward imperceptibly. "Don't let the Count haunt your dreams," he added, hoping that Thomas would laugh- but Thomas's brow furrowed. Thomas reached his hand out- for a seemingly endless moment- and put his ungloved palm against Jimmy's cheek. Jimmy held still, transfixed- Thomas never touched him, not since the evening when he had made his ill-fated attempt at seduction- and the press of his hand worked through Jimmy like a taste of divinity, making his breath hitch. No, not yet, Jimmy thought- and he stepped back from Thomas's fingers, and nodded at him, his lips forming a tight smile. Some emotion- something- had played across Thomas's face- and he nodded in return. "Goodnight, Jimmy," Thomas said- and seemed about to say something more- but then he closed his mouth- and shut his door.

"Goodnight, Thomas," Jimmy said, in the empty hallway- and went to his own room.

In the morning Jimmy had woken to his alarm- and discovered a folded letter on the floor by his bed, as if someone had slid it under the door. Looking at it filled Jimmy with a slow, swooning horror- it was a full ten seconds before he could bring himself to bend over, and pick it up. He unfolded it with trembling hands- and read the opening-

Jimmy, It read -Perhaps you will not understand what I am going to do- what I have already done-

"No," Jimmy had said- his voice sounding unrecognizable to his own ears- and he had leaned, unsteadily, against his bed- and then slumped down, to sit on the floor, holding the letter in his trembling hands.

-but I have left this morning, without giving notice- with the Count. I am going away with him- for a while. But I swear, Jimmy- I swear that I'll return- and when I do- if you will have me- we can travel anywhere you want. I want you to know- whether it is welcome or not- that I love you- I have loved you since before the moment I confessed to loving you- and always after. And every day more. Please- live well, and I will send you something, when I can.

The letter was unsigned- Thomas's measure of caution.

Of course the house had been in an uproar, not knowing when or precisely why Thomas had disappeared. Lord Grantham wrote the Count- and never got a response- and Carson had actually seemed- let down, as if he had secretly nurtured hopes of Thomas's goodness. Mrs. Hughes had been worried- and Jimmy- sunk into the depths of misery- had noticed, after a while, that the special kindness she had shown to Thomas was now occasionally visited upon him. Still the pain endured. Jimmy had been shot through with hope when Thomas had started sending him money every month- Jimmy knew it was Thomas, although he had no proof- and he had taken his courses to pass the time, convinced that at any moment Thomas would appear, filthy rich and a bit more worldly- with a tale of woe on his lips and apology in his heart- and steal Jimmy away, to other countries. But Thomas did not appear, and from him Jimmy had no word.

In the third year of Thomas's absence, when Jimmy was a proper accountant- and accountant to Downton, besides- Jimmy had taken some of the money Thomas sent him- always without a word, without a letter of any kind- and always in the same plain envelope, with no return address- out of his savings- and used it to take a three-week holiday. He traveled to Milan- where, he had discovered, Count Tepaesti had a summer home- but when Jimmy arrived at the Count's palazzo it was closed, and empty- with windows that peered back at him, as if many sets of eyes watched him from behind the dark glass. In the fourth year it occurred to Jimmy that he had been waiting for Thomas to return for longer than the entire time he'd known him. If it's love, that's no consolation, his interior voice murmured- and Jimmy knew it was true. Thomas was the only soul he'd ever met whose company Jimmy preferred to his own- he longed for Thomas, and no one else. It's him or nothing for me, Jimmy thought. And I can't have him. So I choose nothing. Jimmy was afraid that the happiest years of his life had already come and gone- disappearing into the limitless brevity of all things, when faced by time.

He read and re-read the letter Thomas had written him- poring over the promise to return enclosed within it. Though the letter was perhaps not the most eloquently written in all creation, Jimmy knew it by heart- it was the thing he had read the single most of anything in his life entire.

At the end of the fourth year Jimmy had gone to a masquerade ball at Evelyn Napier's home- a gala, he suspected, designed to impress Lady Mary. Jimmy had gone as a footman, in his old livery- he could think of nothing else- and spent all night fending off drink orders. After midnight, when Jimmy had been quite drunk, he'd let a man dressed as a bandit push him into a closet- and put his large hands between Jimmy's legs. For a moment it had been aching, wonderful- and then the man had removed his mask- and his resemblance to Thomas, so striking when half his face was covered, had vanished. Jimmy had made stammering apologies and left the party, to walk the shivering streets, by himself, as the sun came up. I'm going to be alone forever, Jimmy had thought. Alone forever, waiting for a man who will never come back.

Sometime in the early part of the fifth year Jimmy felt as if he had been making peace with the idea of a life of thwarted love- but also he had been eyeing his savings thoughtfully- planning to attempt a second trip to Milan. The Count was already dead by then, Jimmy thought. Nobody ever told me. He wondered if the family even knew- but he doubted it.

It had taken Thomas months after the death of the Count to return to him- which stung- and instead of love Jimmy had been rewarded with strange formality and a complicated plot, in which he was supposed to kidnap himself- or something- and present his own more youthful counterpart to Thomas. Mad Thomas. The Count had driven him quite mad- it had been only four years and a bit more that Thomas had been his- his lover- Jimmy hated to think of it- but four years had apparently been enough. Too much- and now Thomas was quite lost. Oh, my love, what did he do to you? Jimmy wondered- and the thought made him so upset that he could not move- and Jimmy stayed very still, his head in his hands, listening to his own shuddering heartbeat.

Jimmy could scarcely sleep- though he thought he dozed for a while, on the couch- and at one point he pulled out the bell, and the spectacles- and he put the spectacles on, and and looked through them, out into the green darkness of his cottage.

In the corner of the room a man clothed in old-fashioned peasant's garb was lighting a fire at the grate- and Jimmy gazed at this apparation for a moment- and then wrenched the glasses off with a shudder, tossing them onto the sofa. People shouldn't be able to see the past, Jimmy thought, listening to the pounding of his own heartbeat. It's not right. There's something terribly wrong about it.

Eventually Jimmy drifted into fitful slumber- and slept until the hour when the sun filled his sitting room and made sleep impossible. When he woke, Jimmy was for a moment convinced that it had all been a dream- an intricate dream brought on by the sounds of his neighbor's party- but there on the sofa lay the bell- and the eyeglasses. Scarcely had Jimmy risen to his feet when there came a knocking on his modest door- and Jimmy went to it, to find Thomas standing outside, immaculately dressed in a suit of the lightest blue, with a half-dozen attendants behind him, all carrying things- tea sets, and end tables, and mops- and dustbins- and one bloke at the back had his arms filled up with a massive arrangement of roses.

"Good morning, my dear ch- James," Thomas said- he was smoking, and he looked rather- anxious, Jimmy thought. "Thomas," Jimmy said- and stood aside, to let the parade of servers into his house.

"I don't keep a staff- but I thought I'd take advantage of the servers- they stay the whole weekend," Thomas said. He spoke with a nervous, overanimated quality that unnerved Jimmy. "Do you mind terribly if I just- arrange a few things?"

"Have at it," Jimmy said, rubbing his eyes- and for the first time Thomas truly regarded him, shaking his head. "You look done in," Thomas said. "Have you slept?"

"I slept on the sofa," Jimmy replied- but Thomas was already issuing orders to the workers.

"No, put that table over there," Thomas said. "And make sure to clean the corners. The baseboards- there. And that table there- James," Thomas said, as Jimmy turned, to go change out of his ill-used white suit- "Take these." Jimmy turned back- trying to avoid Thomas's eyes- the eyes that looked at him as if he were of little relevance- and saw that Thomas was holding out the bell, and the green spectacles. "I have something else I must give you, before you go," Thomas added, in an undertone.

"Fine," Jimmy said, keeping his tone uncaring- though he could feel again the sick twisting in his stomach that had begun the previous night. "But Thomas- why go to all this trouble? It's my home- doesn't it stand to reason that he- that he would- be comfortable here?"

"Certainly, absolutely," Thomas said, vaguely. "No- take that rug outside and knock the dust out- and then lay it down- there. Yes." After he had issued this directive Thomas turned back to Jimmy, with a distracted expression. "I hope you don't think I mean anything by it, my dear- fellow- I just- want to make sure everything is... perfect. I've waited for so long, y'see-"

"I know," Jimmy said, in an undertone- it was not the sort of conversation you could have comfortably, with six other bodies crammed in to the little sitting room. "I waited, too," Jimmy added, quietly- but Thomas hardly looked over at him. "And the silver on the end table- the other end table-" Thomas said- and Jimmy turned his back on the scene, and shut himself in his bedroom.

When Jimmy had washed and dressed- with an ache of upset in his chest so pronounced that it almost inhibited his movements- he returned to the main room of his house- only to find that the servers had gone- and Thomas was standing alone, it the middle of the space. To someone else Thomas might have looked idle- but Jimmy knew him- and knew that he was scrutinizing every inch of the room- checking for some imperfection, some spot of dirt- some item out of place.

"Ah, James," Thomas said, as Jimmy stepped into the room. It was transformed- the flowers had been broken into several arrangements- and set in vases that had been brought. The table was set for an elaborate tea. The room was shining, immaculate- very counter to the way that Jimmy normally kept it. "It looks nice," Jimmy said, and Thomas shrugged. "It's the best I could make of it," Thomas answered, in a tone of dissatisfaction. "I would have thought you could afford a nicer place, dear chap, with the money I sent you-"

"Well I could hardly count on that, could I?" Jimmy said, harshly. He felt as if something inside himself were so tightly wound that it was in danger of snapping, and he went on- "You never wrote, Thomas. I didn't know what was going could've stopped- stopped sending me money at any time. I paid for my courses with it, and I rent this place- and I hold a job. I bought a piano that doesn't fit through my front door and I have to keep at Alfred's. I saved everything else. We can't all survive on being kept men-" Jimmy broke off, taking a deep breath, to quell his temper. After a beat Jimmy realized he had gone too far- Thomas's face and his lips had gone abruptly white, and he was looking at Jimmy with a pained expression. "I-" Thomas said- and then looked down, at the floor. "Quite right," Thomas murmured. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to be insulting."

"Oh- it isn't that," Jimmy said- and took a step towards the other man. "I just- Thomas- you're not thinking clearly-"

"That reminds me," Thomas said, looking up again. "Before I forget. There's one more thing you must do." From the pocket of his elegant suit Thomas produced a small length of rope, and proffered it to Jimmy. "I would have given it to you last night, but it needs to be prepared at dawn on the same day it's used," Thomas said, placing the rope in Jimmy's hands. Jimmy saw that it was not exactly rope at all- but five equal lengths of twine, braided around one another- and all coated in a glaze of pinkish wax that gave off an odor of mint- and something else, some specific flower, which Jimmy could not name. "What is this?" Jimmy asked, turning it in his hands.

"This is very important," Thomas said. "When you go to find him- you remember what to do?"

"Wear the specs, think of five years ago, find the other me, ring the bell thrice, persuade him into coming here to meet you," Jimmy said, flatly. "Try to keep him from running away screaming at the sight of his own self appearing to him."

"Yes," Thomas said, evidently ignoring Jimmy's sarcasm. "But you have to- after he agrees- you have to break apart this twine- and tie one piece around each of his ankles- one around each of his wrists- and the last around his neck."

"Why?" Jimmy asked, balking at the thought of putting a rope around anybody's neck- no matter how innocuous a rope.

"So that he's made visible- and tangible- to us- to all of us here, in our time," Thomas said, his voice taking on tones of great import. "I've only one pair of spectacles."

"Thomas," Jimmy said- though he only half-believed that any of it was possible- "I don't think these are the sorts of things that you should tamper with- the past-"

"It's the only way," Thomas said, firmly. His voice held absolute conviction- and Jimmy met his eyes, which blazed with deep, resonant emotion. "If I can't- take him away- like we talked about-" Thomas paused, gritting his teeth- and Jimmy was alarmed at the look that came over Thomas's face. "-then it was all for nothing, don't you see?" Thomas asked- and Jimmy blinked, taken aback by Thomas's intensity.

"Alright," Jimmy said, if only to ease Thomas's obvious distress. "Alright, fine, I'll go and fetch him."

"Wonderful," Thomas said, straightening his shoulders- and giving Jimmy a half-smile. "I really can never thank you enough," Thomas said. He was leaving, taking a last look around. "And- and I'll be back at four, with a tea service," Thomas went on. "Good luck, James. I know you'll succeed."

Then he was gone, the door shutting behind him- and Jimmy sighed unhappily, and ran his hands through his hair. "Madness," Jimmy muttered, to himself.

Jimmy gathered his arcane tools, and set out from his cottage into the brilliant summer sunlight- and at the crest of the little hill behind his house, he stopped- looking at the fields that sloped away from him- and put on the green spectacles. The field became a forest, another field, another forest- a glacier- and animals and people of all shapes and sizes walked through it, together. There were creatures that Jimmy had never seen before. A crow fought with a fox, and Jimmy watched the moment of the bird's death- as a man in furs walked right through them, and behind him a world of ice- and a world of jungles-

"No," Jimmy said, in abject denial- and took the eyeglasses off, drawing deep, shaky breaths. The world was righted, the expanse before Jimmy empty of all but grazing sheep.

"I can't do it," Jimmy said aloud. He realized he did not know how long he had been standing there, lost in the spectacle of the spectacles, and he turned his feet back to his house. His thoughts were scattered- What will you do now? Jimmy wondered. It would drive Thomas to despair if Jimmy didn't do as he asked. In his madness he'll hound me all my days, Jimmy thought, never realizing that I'm right here, beside him.

Jimmy watched a bird drift lazily overhead, and thought to himself: I'll make him see. Perhaps he could stretch a hand out, across the space- to whatever world Thomas had gone away to occupy, when he became- a - a sorcerer's apprentice. Is he bewitched? Jimmy thought- and a day ago it would have been a laughable thought- but today it struck Jimmy as a possibility.

Jimmy had to do something- and so he went back to his cottage- his mind racing- and pulled his old livery out of the back of the bedroom closet, where it had hung undisturbed since January.

Jimmy took a deep breath, and studied himself in the vanity mirror. "You can do this," he told his reflection- it hardly seemed reassured- but Jimmy went on anyways. Methodically he stripped off his own suit- he emptied the pockets of all magical artifacts- and tossed the suit into the closet, not bothering, for once, to hang it up.

Jimmy found he could not get his hair to fall into place in the exact way that he had worn it when Thomas had left him. He struggled with the curl, his heart racing, as if Thomas were going to come back early and catch him at his deceit. Finally it looked passable- Jimmy squinted into the mirror- or close enough. Then Jimmy dressed in his livery- it seemed a bit dull, but it was too late to shine the buttons- and examined himself again. About his eyes- the eyes that Thomas had said were so changed- Jimmy could do nothing. Lastly Jimmy broke apart the braid of twine, spilling crumbs of pink wax all over his bed- and tied a loop of it around his neck- and one about each of his wrists, which was trickier- and then about each of his ankles. Jimmy felt ridiculous- but the feeling ebbed in the face of the trickery that he was about to attempt, and finally he was only nervous, with clammy hands and a too-fast heartbeat.

This isn't going to work, Jimmy thought. He set the eyeglasses and the bell on the table, and began pacing the sitting room- eight steps forward, eight back. Jimmy began to feel around for his cigarettes, before he realized that he wasn't wearing his usual suit- and finally he dropped down onto the resituated sofa, staring at a bouquet of roses. He's going to walk in and see through the ruse, Jimmy thought, and ask me why I've lied to him.

"Why would you try to trick me, dear chap?" Jimmy said, and scowled at the flowers. Pretending I'm not me doesn't make it so that nothing ever happened. That was good, Jimmy decided. He would say that to Thomas at some point soon- when he was not impersonating himself.

The mantle clock said it was still ten to four, and Jimmy sighed, breathing in the odor of the roses, and shifted uneasily on the sofa- and then the front door swung open- and Jimmy was faced with Thomas. Thomas was alone, holding a tray with a teapot balanced atop it, in a practiced motion. Jimmy observed that Thomas had changed his blue suit for a more conservative grey one, as if he had second-guessed himself.

Thomas stopped short when he saw Jimmy- his eyes widened, and, as Jimmy watched, the tray rattled in Thomas's hand, so that he had to bring his other hand to it, to steady the teapot.

"Jimmy," Thomas said- and took a few steps into the room- unsteady steps- with his eyes all the time on Jimmy's face- and he set down the tray on the table.

Thomas looked- frightened- and Jimmy rose to his feet, so that they were both standing. Now Thomas's face was unguarded- and he was not the stiff and distant stranger he had been a few hours before.

"Uh, Jimmy," Thomas said, his posture awkward, "I'm-ah- very sorry for what I-"

Where was my apology last night? Jimmy wondered- and felt something inside himself snap, so distinctly that he felt as if it had happened in a literal sense. Suddenly Jimmy was angry- angry that Thomas should stand in front of him sheepishly, rubbing one hand anxiously against the back of his neck. That Thomas should stand there, so apologetically- But you weren't sorry last night. Last night you didn't care about my feelings at all, Jimmy thought- and he took a step towards Thomas, feeling all the unspent hurt and unhappiness that he had fought against for years. It swept through Jimmy in a wave, curling his hands into fists.

"-circumstances you don't really- ah- understand, yet," Thomas was saying- his eyes widened as Jimmy stepped closer to him.

"Jimmy," Thomas said, looking at him with some alarm. "What is it?"

"What is it?" Jimmy snapped- but then he recovered himself. His eyes bore into Thomas's- and Thomas flushed under the intensity of Jimmy's stare. Thomas looked shiftily away- and so Jimmy took another step towards him. "What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?" Jimmy said, harshly- and Thomas leaned back, a little, at the force of Jimmy's words.

"I was doing what I thought was-"

"Go hang yourself on your defense, you did it for money," Jimmy hissed. "You went away with that- that walking skull and you left me with a sheet of paper. Five bloody run-on sentences and no signature. You ran off with one of your get-rich-quick schemes. You bloody moron-"

"But," Thomas said- he was looking, shamefaced, at the wall behind Jimmy's head- "-you don't understand-"

"I understand well enough, you stupid arse," Jimmy barked- he was yelling now- and without knowing he was going to do it, Jimmy unclenched his fists- and struck his palms against Thomas's chest. Thomas took a step back- more, it seemed, to avoid being hit again than because Jimmy had actually shoved him with any force- and Thomas's eyes widened further. Now he was looking directly at Jimmy, a grave and fearful expression etched over his countenance. "Jimmy," Thomas said, putting his hands out. "I'm sorry." Thomas's face twisted- and with it Jimmy's heart twisted as well, leaving him in a terrible turmoil- he wanted to beat Thomas to the ground, he wanted to kiss Thomas's mouth- but he did neither. Instead Jimmy groaned- an indefiniable, angry sound- and brought both his hands to his face, cupping his head. "Aaaghhh, Thomas, you damned idiot," Jimmy growled, into his hands.

"I'm so sorry," Thomas said- and Jimmy looked up- to see that Thomas's face was screwed up into an expression of sorrow- and his eyes were bright, with unshed tears. Thomas stared miserably at the floor, his mouth working, but no sound coming out- and Jimmy felt cruel, suddenly. He was imbued with the horrid idea that Thomas's time with the Count had been- less than endurable. So unendurable, in fact, Jimmy thought, that he went mad.

"Why'd you do it?" Jimmy asked, dropping his hands limply to his sides. "Why would you do that?"

"I thought-" Thomas said, shrugging, guilt hanging over him like a shroud, "That I could- that I could get rich, an' we could run away together. Just as you said," Thomas finished, in a whisper.

"Oh, for god's sake, Thomas," Jimmy said- and stepped into Thomas's space. At the intrusion Thomas blinked, several times- but Jimmy didn't care if Thomas was uncomfortable. He had it coming, Jimmy decided. "I don't know why I ever thought you clever," Jimmy said- and put his arms around Thomas's shoulders. "You're the stupidest man I ever met."

"Most stupid," Thomas said- his cheeks had gone red when Jimmy embraced him- but now he gave Jimmy a superior look, one eyebrow raised, in defiance of the tears that still glinted in his eyes. "I know that. Go to hell," Jimmy retorted- and then he pulled Thomas tightly to him, and laughed, helplessly, into the shoulder of Thomas's expensive suit. "I can't believe you're here," Jimmy said, when he managed to quell his laughter. "I want to beat you black and blue."

"I'm glad to see you too," Thomas said, against his ear. Thomas's voice was unsteady- and after a moment Jimmy felt Thomas's arms winding around his back, so that they stood together. "I'm so mad at you that I could kill you," Jimmy murmured. "I could murder you in cold blood."

"And scatter my pieces to the four winds," Thomas said, gravely- and Jimmy felt a spot of wetness hit his cheek- and looked up to see that tears were coursing down Thomas's face.

"Oh, don't cry," Jimmy whispered, feeling his own throat tighten. "Don't cry, why do you always cry?" Jimmy went on, hoarsely- and Thomas cleared his throat- and brought one of his hands up to wipe his face. "Here, you moron," Jimmy said- and rubbed the sleeve of his old uniform roughly against Thomas's cheeks, until Thomas grimaced, and pushed his hand away. "Terrible bedside manner," Thomas said- Jimmy had scrubbed his cheeks quite pink- and Jimmy laughed, relieved that he, too, would not be forced into a show of tears by Thomas's own emotionalism. "Anyways there's something wrong with you if you can't cry," Thomas said in imperious tones, sounding much recovered. "A person should know their own mind, even if it isn't pleasant."

"I know my own mind now," Jimmy said. "And my own mind tells me that I need to know what in hell happened."

"Oh- yes, alright," Thomas said- Jimmy looked up at him- they were still embraced- and saw Thomas look away, anxiously. "Thomas," Jimmy prompted. "Tell me. What did the Count say to convince you? And- and was he as evil as I thought he was?"

"Well," Thomas said, squinting as if in concentration. "Greco was- I don't know. He told me once that he'd sold his soul to the Devil."

"And did you believe him?" Jimmy asked, feeling the little hairs on his arms stand up, as if he were chilled, despite the heat of the summer afternoon.

"No," Thomas said, softly. "I think he was the Devil."

Jimmy's heart skipped in his chest- and he squeezed Thomas very tightly, for a moment. "God," Jimmy said, against Thomas's neck. "God, Thomas, what on earth did he say to get you to go with him?"

"Uh. Maybe," Thomas said, indicating the table- "we should have tea-"

"Oh, hang your tea, and hang these flowers and everything, as well," Jimmy said- but he could not keep his tone harsh- not when Thomas had worried him so. Jimmy half-turned, keeping one hand on Thomas's arm- and indicated the ornamented and transformed version of his own cottage. "This is bizarre, Thomas, why would I want any of this? I only wanted to see you."

"Hmm. I was just- uh-" Thomas said, frowning at the room. "I was-" Thomas paused, looking around. "But where is James?"

"Uh- he said he had to go to work," Jimmy lied. "At his dreadful, tedious job," Jimmy added, not certain where the sentiment had come from.

"Oh. Yes," Thomas said, nodding. "I can't imagine you ever having a job like that."

"Me, either," Jimmy said, and laughed aloud. "Ha, ah, Thomas, god, tell me what happened. Please." He turned back to face Thomas, who looked uneasy- and then pushed his hair back from his head, in an uncomfortable gesture. "I've been gone for five years," Thomas said. "I suppose I must look much older."

"No, not a bit," Jimmy said- and smiled in relief, at Thomas's familiar vanity. "Only this is different-" Jimmy said, with a motion of his hand indicating Thomas's hair- and he reached up- and put his fingers to the side of Thomas's face. Thomas took an audible breath when Jimmy touched him- and then Jimmy carded his fingers through the streak of silver hair at Thomas's left temple. Thomas's hair- not slicked down, as it had been when he'd worked at Downton- ran through Jimmy's fingers like thick silk. The grey hairs, Jimmy noticed, were coarser than the black- and at his touch, Thomas closed his eyes, and pressed against Jimmy's hand. "I-" Thomas said- and turned his face into Jimmy's hand, so that his lips met Jimmy's palm.

"Oh," Jimmy said- the feeling of Thomas's mouth spread into his body- like sunlight- beating through his blood, and heating him utterly. At his utterance Thomas abruptly moved his head, looking embarrassed- and Jimmy grabbed his shoulder. "No, don't go away," Jimmy said- and Thomas looked up at him. "No?" Thomas asked, lowly.

"No," Jimmy said- and leaned forward- to rest against Thomas's chest. Under his ear Jimmy could hear Thomas's heart beating. "Thomas," Jimmy said, softly. "Put your arms around me." After a beat, Thomas shifted his arms- and brought them up- first only to Jimmy's shoulders- but then he wrapped Jimmy in a full embrace, his arms around Jimmy's waist, bending into him. The pressure of Thomas's arms crushed Jimmy- and he felt as if a wound had been miraculously healed- an old wound which he had lived with for so long that it had become second nature to him- and to experience a moment without pain took his breath away. "I thought you would never come back," Jimmy said, to Thomas's shoulder. "I thought I had lost you."

"I was always going to come back," Thomas said, into Jimmy's ear. "That was part of the bargain."

"Tell me what the bargain was," Jimmy said.

"Let me show you my things," Thomas said- Jimmy noticed that he had a dreamy look about him- the effect of their embrace.

"All the vast treasures you got for services rendered?" Jimmy asked- but Thomas nodded, seriously. "Yes," Thomas said- and he took Jimmy's arm, and turned to the door.

They walked up the path from Jimmy's cottage, arm-in-arm- and Thomas, smoking with his free hand, began to tell Jimmy what had happened with the Count.

"All week he was after me. I told you about it," Thomas said, and Jimmy nodded. "It was driving me mad," Jimmy said, thinking back on the terrible panic he had felt at every waking moment. "I was so afraid of him."

"Yes," Thomas agreed. "Then Matif- Azello, I mean- came and told me that the Count would give me a hundred pounds- just to hear what he had to say."

Jimmy nodded, pulling Thomas closer to himself, as they walked. Looking up, he could see the side of Thomas's face- his eyes looked far away, lost in recollection. "And you went to him, like the fool you are," Jimmy said.

"Yes," Thomas agreed- his tone had taken on a flat, canned quality, as if he were talking from far away. "And he told me that he wanted me for his own," Thomas went on. "That he had to have me, but that he didn't have no... didn't have any illusions about a young man like myself wanting to spend their best years with a dried-up old codger. He said that if I went with him, after he had died I would get all he had- all his fortune. He put it more elegantly- but that was the size of it."

"And you said yes," Jimmy replied, accusatorily. "I suppose he told you that he was old and sick and he would die very soon, so never you fear-"

"No, I'm not so stupid," Thomas answered. "Though I could see that he was sick just by looking at him."

"What?" Jimmy asked. "He didn't look sick at all, Thomas-"

"No, probably not," Thomas agreed. "He did to me, though. Greco could do things like that. When he wanted." Thomas took a long drag off the end of his cigarette, scowling. Thomas had remembered the spectacles and the bell at the door, and gotten them- and now the emerald eyeglasses rested atop his head, refracting green in the sunlight.

Jimmy shivered, against Thomas's arm.

"Anyways I weren't so stupid," Thomas said. "Wasn't so stupid."

"Did Greco correct your grammar very often?" Jimmy asked, feeling a deep ribbon of hate in his heart for the Count- it had been there for many years- but now Jimmy was wound up in it completely.

"Not very. I used my upstairs voice with him," Thomas said, throwing his cigarette end onto his immaculate lawn. The attendants had been here- the evidence that there had been a party was scarce- and Jimmy and Thomas made their way slowly around the swimming pool.

"You have to think," Thomas said, studying the water that glimmered within the confines of the pool- "That I was still in service. Just a very- particular field."

"Did it help to think of it that way?" Jimmy asked- and Thomas looked over at him, and blushed. "Any-Anyhow I told him I didn't trust him," Thomas went on, avoiding his eyes. "And I told him to go to hell at first. But then he began to talk-"

"And you listened to him," Jimmy groaned, bringing a hand to his forehead.

"Yes," Thomas said, looking suddenly grim. "We worked out a bargain. The next day I went to London with him and we signed two contracts- one making me the heir to everything he owned- and another that said- if he was still living in ten years- that I would be awarded half of everything he owned. And then I could go free."

"Ten years," Jimmy whispered, in horror.

"I figured I'd only be forty-two," Thomas said, quietly. "And even with half of his money I'd be richer than God. But I was betting he'd die soon. Sooner than that."

"Thomas," Jimmy said, grasping Thomas's gloved hand. "That's the worst thing I've ever heard. Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"I figured you'd try to talk me out of it," Thomas said- and dragged his eyes away from the pool, to look over at Jimmy uncomfortably.

"I would've," Jimmy answered, vehemently. "I would've called the police to keep you from going. I would've had you locked up."

"It doesn't matter now," Thomas said, abruptly. "Now we can do everything we ever wanted." With the hand not entwined in Jimmy's, Thomas gestured towards the house- and they went in to it.

"It feels so empty without any servants," Jimmy said, as they walked through the halls.

"Yes, well, I don't keep any," Thomas said- and it was on the tip of Jimmy's tongue to tell Thomas that he'd already mentioned that- but then he remembered the ruse he was supposed to be playing at, and shut his mouth. "It was fun for a bit, to be waited on. But I couldn't help remembering all the time that they were all people- with their own lives... so I sent them away when he died."

Jimmy squeezed Thomas's hand. "It must've been bad," he said, trying to keep his voice light.

"It's not bad now," Thomas replied, opening one of the side doors. "My holdings make me eleventh-richest man on the Contintent."

"Are you serious?" Jimmy asked, involuntarily. His head spun at the thought of so much wealth.

"Yes," Thomas said, smirking. "Look at this-"

He led Jimmy into a long hall with a vaulted ceiling- and Jimmy looked around, wonderingly- at the clocks that lined the walls. Grandfather clocks and wall-clocks- clocks that Jimmy had never seen- all ticking along, filling the space with their soothing repetition. He gazed at the enormity of the collection, awed.

"Are all of these yours?"Jimmy asked, stupidly- and Thomas nodded, smiling. "It's all mine, Jimmy. Well- ours. If you'll come away with me." Thomas's tone was informal- but Jimmy tore his eyes away from the timepieces- and saw that Thomas's face was held tense, as if he were bracing himself for Jimmy's answer.

"Of course I'll come with you," Jimmy said, immediately. "I'll go anywhere with you." The relief that spread across Thomas's face was too profound- and Jimmy had to look away from it, into the suddenly overbright hall of clocks.

"Thank you for that," Thomas said, from behind him- and Jimmy took a step away, to put his hands against the nearest grandfather clock. It clicked onwards, moving towards the hour, and Jimmy felt the gears working within it- like a heartbeat- and realized that he was going to cry.

"Jimmy," Thomas said, sounding alarmed- though Jimmy made no sound, the trembling of his shoulders must have betrayed him- and then Thomas was turning him around. "I'm sorry," Jimmy said, wiping at his eyes. "I'm sorry. I've just never-" but he could not tell Thomas that it was both love- and pity- that moved him so. Jimmy knew him well enough to know that Thomas would not take to kindly to pity- still, the thought of him buying clocks- acquiring things to fill up the lonely days and hours- hurt Jimmy awfully, and he said, absurdly: "I've just never seen so many clocks before. They're beautiful."

Thomas held him, by the shoulders- but raised an eyebrow. "There's more," Thomas said, waiting for Jimmy to recover himself. "Hmm?" Jimmy asked.

"I have more things than you could imagine," Thomas said, leaning back on his feet, a smile spread across his face. "Come on!" And then he was walking away briskly, and Jimmy followed behind him. They walked into another room- this one filled with myriad vases - in boxes- or on tables and bookshelves- or else just sitting on the floor- and Thomas stretched his arms out- as if to encompass the space. "I have this room filled with vases, just vases," Thomas said. "I don't even know what to do with them all. The collection made an appraiser weep from excitement. And in here-"

They passed though a room that held only furniture covered in tarps- and then they paused- in what Jimmy assumed had been the dining room- but was now just a storage space, filled up with art. Art and statues were everywhere- there were at least a dozen statues, and hundreds of paintings, none of them hung. Framed works- some of them ten feet high- were stacked six deep around all of the walls- and leaned against the bases of the sculptures. "This is the Count's art collection?" Jimmy asked, examining a still life with a prominent skull in it, and a dark background.

"Yes. He was quite passionate about art," Thomas said. Jimmy did not like the art he saw, as he looked around. Everything gave him an uneasy feeling, as if the Count's personality had somehow tainted the art- and he pulled forward a dark-toned rendition of The Rape of Proserpina- by an artist that he did not recognize- to look the the paintings concealed behind it. There was a painting of a city burning- Moscow, Jimmy thought- those funny domes. "This is strange," he said, showing it to Thomas. "Oh, yes- that church in St. Petersburg," Thomas said. Absently he took the emerald eyeglasses off of his head, and tucked them away into the pocket of his grey suit. "Uh- 'The Church of the Savior on Spilt Blood', I think he called it," Thomas added, after a minute.

Oh, Jimmy thought. Not Moscow. Aloud he said: "On spilt blood?"

"The river," Thomas said, indicating a streak that ran against the bottom of the canvas- it was painted dark, reflecting only the flames above it.

"Those are eerie-" Jimmy said, pointing to a huge canvas that seemed to house a variety of people and monsters, all tortured out of shape.

"I hate those," Thomas said, making a face. "I forget the artist's name. Something cumbersome. Ha- Hiro? Hiro something? No," Thomas said, shaking his head. "I don't recall it."

"Is that you?" Jimmy asked- he caught a glimpse of a painting across the room- obviously a painting of Thomas- but Thomas painted stiffly, in old-fashioned clothes- and he walked over to it. The artist had done an excellent job capturing that beloved face- and Jimmy smiled at it- it was exactly right, down to the displeased look and the streak of silver at the left of his temple.

"No, that isn't me," Thomas said- and crossed the room, to stand behind him. "That's Leka."

"Who?" Jimmy asked, disbelieving him- it was undeniably Thomas.

"Maximilian Leka. The reason Greco had to have me," Thomas said. "The love of his life."

"He looks perfectly like you," Jimmy murmured, studying the canvas- involuntarily he reached out, to touch it- as if to confirm that it was real. "It looks old," Jimmy said, after a moment. "Older than the Count." He paused, turning, to study Thomas. "I suppose you'll tell me that he thought Leka was you, reborn, or some mad thing-"

"Not at all," Thomas replied, shaking his head. "The Count said that all time was happening at once- always- so that Leka lived, somewhere- in the past- perpetually. I was just a happy accident of appearance."

"I can't believe it, Thomas- it's exactly you- even down to the grey in your hair-" Jimmy said, looking back and forth between the man and the painting.

"Ah. Yes," Thomas said, bringing his own hand to his temple- and smiling, as if at some private joke. "I was suspicious of that- it just started going silver one day- and by the end of a week I matched him perfectly."

"What do you mean?" Jimmy asked, feeling cold. "The Count made it happen?"

"Mm." Thomas made a noncommittal sound, still looking at the portrait. "He was devoted. I spent days at a time pretending to be Leka, when the mood struck him," Thomas said, a shadow passing over his face. "Leka was mute all his life, so it was a dull game. Dull at mealtimes."

Jimmy did not know how to understand what Thomas had said- it made his heart pound sickly in his chest- and he felt ill, suddenly, on Thomas's behalf. Finally he managed a reply- just to get Thomas to stop looking so lost in unhappy reminiscence. "He was mute?" Jimmy asked, after a minute, hoping his voice sounded normal.

"Yes. But he painted," Thomas said. "He painted that- it's a self-portrait."

"Oh," Jimmy said, and turned away. He didn't want to look at the painting anymore- and he moved through the room away from it, looking at the sculptures. He passed a marble rendering of a woman standing, stiff-backed, against a pyre- and then he stopped at a stone carving of a naked youth, holding a bundle of flowers- and sporting an erection. "Quite the carving job," Jimmy said, indicating the statue. "Hah," Thomas said. "Miracle that it didn't break off in transit," he said, dryly, and Jimmy laughed. "Where d'ya even find a statue like that?" Jimmy asked, making a face at the sculpture.

"Greco was obsessed with phalluses," Thomas said, grinning when Jimmy snorted. "I mean it," Thomas said, leering comically at Jimmy. "All manner. He had a collection of carved cocks. One in ivory-"

"Go on," Jimmy said, laughing.

"And one in jade, and one in stone that was supposed to be older than Christ-"

"Show me this magnificent collection, then," Jimmy said, still laughing- and Thomas shook his head. "Can't," Thomas said.

"And why not?" Jimmy asked, poking Thomas on the chest, and chuckling.

"I threw them all away when he died," Thomas said- and he looked away from Jimmy, out over the room.

Oh, Thomas, Jimmy thought- the smile dying from his lips- What did he do to you? -and he put his hand over Thomas's heart. Thomas looked down at him, his expression composed, as if he had given nothing away. "Let's get out of here," Jimmy said, indicating the room. "The Count had awful taste in art."

Thomas took him to another room- and stood Jimmy in front of a gilt-edged mirror, fitted with glass that had an odd yellow tint to it, and many strange symbols carved onto the edge of the frame. "Now don't be alarmed by what you see in it," Thomas said. "It shows you- how you look sort've indicates- how your accounts are balanced, if you take my meaning."

Jimmy studied himself in the mirror- he saw himself, as usual- only in his old livery, with his hair already coming loose from the style he had forced it into- and a piece of waxy twine tied round his throat- and behind him Thomas, handsome, and the same as always.

"I guess my accounts are balanced," Jimmy said- and almost made a joke about his job, forgetting that he wasn't supposed to be an accountant- yet- but Thomas was shaking his head in the reflection. "Not like that," Thomas said. "Morally. Spiritually."

"Oh," Jimmy said, not knowing if he believed it- but a more thorough examination of his appearance revealed nothing unusual. "I thought I'd be doing worse," Jimmy said. "I look the same."

"Good on you," Thomas said, smiling at him- and Jimmy turned, so that they were standing chest-to-chest- and Thomas took a breath, at Jimmy's sudden proximity. "How about you?" Jimmy asked, looking up into Thomas's eyes. "What do you see?"

"I- my scales are a bit tipped," Thomas answered, his lips turning down at the edges- and Jimmy raised his hand, to press a thumb against the corner of Thomas's mouth. At the touch Thomas closed his eyes- and moved his head back and forth very slowly- so that his lower lip slid along the pad of Jimmy's thumb.

"Ah," Jimmy said, at the sensation. His eyes were transfixed upon the sight. Thomas's mouth- red as apples, dragging against his hand- made Jimmy feel unsteady, as if he might fall to the ground and remain there, consumed by lust. "You did all of this for me," Jimmy murmured- and Thomas looked hesitant- but then he nodded, against Jimmy's hand.

"But- I don't think it was good for you, Thomas," Jimmy said, earnestly- and Thomas took a step back, leaving Jimmy's hand suspended it the air. "It didn't kill me," Thomas said- smiling his terse smile, which Jimmy knew meant discomfort. "Sometimes it was all right. Greco would say he wanted so show me something- and it would be a lovely book, something old- or else have me read Milton- or else take me to a new museum. Sometimes he would show me how to do a spell. Once I made a grey fog that filled every room, and lingered for days."

"You didn't, though," Jimmy said, caught in the web of Thomas's recollections.

"I did, though," Thomas countered. "You do it with another of the bells- Căpcăun, the Quiet One- and a pinch of dust. It smelled of cinnamon. The fog, I mean. Cinnamon and mist everywhere."

"Sounds nice," Jimmy said. "Too bad I know it's shite. Don't pretend you were happy." You can't fool me, Jimmy thought. He met Thomas's eyes boldly- and Thomas looked taken aback by his words, and grasped around for a reply, for a moment.

"Don't pretend," Jimmy said, warningly, when Thomas opened his mouth.

"Uh. It- it was a terrible mistake," Thomas said, and looked down, fixedly, at the floor. "I should never've left Downton. I realized it- when we first got to Italy the Count seemed ill- but then after a few weeks he got...stronger-" Thomas paused, staring at the oriental carpet under his feet. "And I realized that he might live for a long time," Thomas finished, his voice almost a whisper.

"Then why? Why not come back?" Jimmy asked. Thomas shook his head. "Couldn't," Thomas said. "I left without giving notice. No references and no money. Greco gave me money- I could have anything I wanted- but it was all in his name. I got nothing if I left."

"You stupid- idiot," Jimmy said- and went to Thomas. Thomas had backed several steps away as he spoke- not seeming to know that he was doing it- and Jimmy crossed the space- and grabbed Thomas by the arm, dragging him over to a long settee. "Sit down," Jimmy said, tugging on Thomas's sleeve- and Thomas complied, taking a seat.

Jimmy took a long breath- trying to sort out in his mind all of the things he had planned, for half a decade, to say to Thomas- if he ever got to see him again. It wasn't easy to recall them- he found himself confounded by the reality of Thomas- sitting there. I can't believe you're alive and unharmed, Jimmy thought- and brought one hand, affectionately, to Thomas's cheek. Well. Hopefully unharmed, Jimmy thought. Though Jimmy considered himself no great lover of humanity he had never wanted to kill a man- even in the war, when he was getting shot at, Jimmy had sometimes felt himself praying that his own bullets would miss- but he fervently wished that he could resurrect Count Tepaesti, dealer of devil's bargains- and kill him again, just for satisfaction's sake.

Thomas looked alarmed by whatever expression had moved across Jimmy's face- and when Jimmy drew his hand back, Thomas cleared his throat, uncomfortably, and found himself a cigarette. "Give us one, too," Jimmy commanded- and Thomas handed Jimmy his own cigarette, as he had earlier- and lit another for himself.

"I'm in love with you, Thomas," Jimmy said, after a pause in which they both smoked. Thomas coughed out a great lungful of smoke- and looked at Jimmy, his face pale. "I-" Thomas said, swallowing audibly. "Are- are you sure? You didn't even like me to touch you when I left-"

"I didn't want you to touch me because I was in love with you, " Jimmy said. Last evening the great Monsieur Bireaux had told James that he knew 'his Jimmy' had been in love with him. So why play it coy now? Jimmy wondered- and then the answer came to him. Thomas wasn't certain that Jimmy loved him- he had just hoped it was so. Though Jimmy had broken his heart once before. Still- the idea of love between them- it was what Thomas had kept for himself, all his lonely years- a tendril of hope, to cling on to. In a vast darkness, perhaps.

Jimmy found an ashtray on the nearby table- a gaudy, crystal affair- and discarded his cigarette- and then put his hands again to Thomas's face. "Let me see you," Jimmy said, cupping Thomas's face in his palms. I've touched him more today than ever before, in my whole life, Jimmy thought- and he felt suddenly dizzy with the thought- it made his pulse race and his stomach turn in somersaults.

Thomas exhaled smoke through his nostrils, and Jimmy laughed at his expression. "No need to be so affronted," Jimmy said. "Let's just have a look at you." Carefully Jimmy stroked his fingers through Thomas's hair- and then laid his palms lightly against either side of Thomas's jaw. Thomas blushed at the attention- holding Jimmy's gaze with half-shut eyes and burning cheeks.

"You look much the same," Jimmy said, studying Thomas's eyes- and the line of his nose, and the jut of his cheekbones- and lastly Thomas's mouth, his lips barely parted.

"I remembered everything about you," Thomas said, in an undertone. When Thomas spoke Jimmy could feel the movement of his jaw. "Except-"

"What?" Jimmy asked, tensing. "Excepting what?"

"I didn't know you could be- ah-" Thomas dropped his eyes, his voice quieting to a whisper- "Sweet. I didn't know you could be sweet."

Jimmy laughed, relieved. "That's right," he agreed, nodding. "I'm soppy now-" and then he broke off- because Thomas leaned foward- so close to Jimmy that the tips of their noses bumped together- and then he tilted his head- and pressed his lips softly to Jimmy's mouth.

"Mmph," Jimmy said- surprised- and then the sensation of Thomas's mouth moving slightly against his own filled Jimmy with the profoundest physical sensation- so intense that his skin prickled- as if he had been touched by electricity. "Ahh, god," he said, into Thomas's mouth- and Thomas made some noise in turn, and gripped Jimmy about the waist with his hands, pulling him closer. Thomas's hands on Jimmy's back felt too erotic to be borne- at the pressure of Thomas's grip Jimmy moaned, not breaking this kiss- and put his hands on Thomas- one on his knee- and one against his neck.

"Oh," Thomas said, in a breathless voice, as Jimmy turned to draw a huge, shaky breath. "Oh- I-"

"Mm, yes, please," Jimmy whispered, cutting off the rest of Thomas's sentence- and he pushed their faces together again, kissing Thomas's lips and the corner of his mouth- and then Thomas opened his mouth- and Jimmy parted his lips in return- and felt Thomas's tongue, running along the inside of his lower lip. "Agghh, god," Jimmy said, leaning back a few centimeters, as the intensity of the sensation shot through him, like a trail of sparks.

"What's wrong?" Thomas asked- he looked concerned- but his cheeks and his lips, red as they were, gave away his desire- and Jimmy leaned in, to press their mouths together once more. This time when Thomas's lips parted Jimmy did back to Thomas what had been done to him- running his tongue along the inside of Thomas's lower lip- and Thomas hissed, and pulled Jimmy closer to him. Thomas kept one hand to the small of Jimmy's back- and Jimmy felt his fingers there- sending waves of heat up and down his spine- and he pressed against Thomas's touch. Jimmy's own hand moved to the back of Thomas's head- and he pulled Thomas closer against him.

"Ah, ah," Jimmy said, pulling away from Thomas to draw a shuddering breath. His body was trembling- and Jimmy could feel how hard he had gotten- his erection painfully constricted by the trousers of his uniform. Thomas was studying his face intently, with an expression that Jimmy had never seen on his face before- Thomas, stripped bare by lust, his features beautiful and tense and yearning- and as Jimmy tried to catch his breath, Thomas leaned in, and kissed his earlobe, and then his neck- and Jimmy groaned, catching Thomas's shoulderblades, and pulling Thomas tightly to himself. "I-I love you," Jimmy said- it was such a relief to say it again, after so long, that Jimmy repeated the words- "I love you Thomas I love you-" And then he broke off, with a gasp, as Thomas pressed his gloved hand against Jimmy's erection, gripping it through the fabric of his trousers. "Nhgh, ah- yes-" Jimmy said, opening his eyes as much as he could manage. The sensation of Thomas's fingers on his cock- even through the fabric- was paralyzing- Jimmy could not move at the pleasure that twisted through him. His heartbeat throbbed in his hardon and Thomas's fingers made it pound faster, relentlessly- and Jimmy moaned, pushing his hips upwards, trying to get more of Thomas's touch. "Yes, yes-" Jimmy muttered, rocking against Thomas's hand- and then he remembered himself- and took one of his tremlbing hands away from Thomas's back- and pressed it to his knee.

Jimmy looked into Thomas's eyes- he could barely bring himself to do it, with the feeling of Thomas's hand on his cock pushing every thought out of his mind. When he met Thomas's pale eyes Jimmy grabbed a lungful of air- a last bid for sanity before he was drowned in bliss- and ran his hand up the inseam of Thomas's costly trousers- until he was pressing down on Thomas's erection. Thomas was very hard- Jimmy could feel it- and, with his stomach twisting from lust and nerves, Jimmy gripped the bulge of Thomas's hardon firmly, stroking him through his clothes. "Hn, o-oh, Jimmy," Thomas said, shakily- and they stared at one another, each touching the other. "Nnngh, shite," Jimmy said- and buried his head in the crook of Thomas's neck, pressing feverish kisses to every inch of skin he could lay his mouth upon. "Yes-" he moaned, as Thomas touched him- "Aa-ah- yes, do that- d-do you like- this- ah-"

"Yes, I like it," Thomas whispered hoarsely, into Jimmy's ear- and Jimmy shivered- a full body shiver- and leaned slowly down, his pulse pounding out of control- and pulled Thomas by the lapels with the hand that had been between Thomas's legs- so that Thomas leaned down, against him- until he had Thomas lying atop him entirely, across the length of the sofa. "Kiss me again," Jimmy said- and Thomas pushed his knee between Jimmy's legs, until his thigh was firmly pressed against Jimmy's erection. "Aahh- yes, yes-" Jimmy said- and Thomas captured his mouth as he spoke, and rubbed his tongue against the inside of Jimmy's lips- making him gasp- and he moaned into Thomas's mouth, and Thomas only kissed him more deeply. Jimmy could feel Thomas's erection against his hip- and he brought one hand to Thomas's lower back- and pressed Thomas against himself. "Oh, yes-" Thomas said, his voice in tatters- and he thrust with his hips into Jimmy, so that they rubbed against each other. "Nnngh, ah, Thomas," Jimmy said, his voice garbled- and again Thomas silenced him with a kiss- and Jimmy's free hand came up, tangling in Thomas's hair-

"Pardon me- oh, my-"

A voice broke into their reverie- and Jimmy and Thomas shot apart- Jimmy pulled his knees back, shoving over to the far end of the sofa- and Thomas stood up completely, pulling down his suitjacket. "I say, dear chap, what are you doing in my house?" Thomas asked, in conversational tones- and Jimmy saw that Thomas had become Monsieur Bireaux once again- and then Jimmy cast his eyes over to the intruder.

After a moment Jimmy observed that the speaker was a man in a suit, with his back turned to them, and mussed hair- and then after a half-second he realized that it was, in fact, Evelyn Napier.

"I'm so sorry to have intruded," Evelyn said, rapid- fire. "I beg your pardon, I just- I woke up on a settee in another room- and the front door was locked- I was just looking for an exit."

"You can turn around now," Jimmy said- and Evelyn turned around, his face a mask of chagrin. "Oh, Jimmy, I thought it was you," Evelyn said lamely. He had lost his tie, Jimmy noticed. Thomas's eye flicked over to Jimmy anxiously, and he said, very clearly, "Oh. Why, Jimmy, I believe this is the Honourable Evelyn Napier." Jimmy raised an eyebrow at Thomas. Yes, so? Jimmy thought- and then he realized- Thomas thinks I've never met Evelyn Napier. Because I'm supposed to be from the past. He's covering up for me.

"Yes, I am," Evelyn said, and took a step forward. "And you must be Monsieur Bireaux." Thomas, blank-faced, accepted Evelyn's proffered hand- and they shook. "Listen, I'm so dreadfully sorry to have taken advantage of your hospitality," Evelyn said.

"Quite all right," Thomas said, nonchalantly. "People get left behind all the time. Happens at every party."

"I-" Evelyn broke off, and looked at Thomas again. "My god- are you the- aren't you a footman? Weren't you a footman for the-"

"I was an underbutler, actually," Thomas said- and Jimmy- happily- saw Thomas's true self clearly under the facade of Monsieur Bireaux- Thomas's lip all but curled up at Evelyn in a sneer.

"Oh- yes- of course," Evelyn said, looking pained. "I am sorry. How wonderful- you made more of yourself than any of us, I dare say," he added. Jimmy was ready to take pity on Evelyn- and he rescued the other man from whatever unkind thing Thomas had been about to utter, saying: "Let me show you the door, Evelyn."

Thomas shot Jimmy a dark glance as Jimmy led Evelyn away- Jimmy could see that Thomas was quite exasperated- and Jimmy's eyes strayed from the red of Thomas's face to the evidence of Thomas's arousal- and then he made himself look away. He saw Evelyn look his over his own reflection in the mirror, as they passed by it. Jimmy could have sworn that Evelyn's eyes widened for a moment.

"You look alright?" Jimmy asked lightly, as they exited the room, making their winding way towards the back of Haxby.

"Better than I expected, actually," Evelyn said ruefully. "Or else that's a very forgiving mirror. Look," Evelyn said, drawing a breath- "Won't you please apologize again to your friend for me? I really am so-"

"It's fine," Jimmy said. He believed in Evelyn's trustworthiness- and, absurdly, he felt doubly reassured by the fact that Evelyn had liked whatever he'd seen in the magic mirror. Magic mirror, Jimmy thought to himself. You'll be as mad as Thomas soon. But the spectacles-

"Why are you wearing that uniform?" Evelyn asked, as they walked back through the room filled with vases- and into the hall of clocks. "No, I'm sorry, forget I asked that," Evelyn said.

"How did you get left behind, anyhow?" Jimmy asked, neatly changing the subject.

"Oh- uh-" Evelyn sighed, and put one hand to his head. "It's a bad business, Jimmy," he said. "I had far too much to drink last night- I don't think I've had that much to drink in ten years- and I said things I shouldn't have." Evelyn sounded mortified.

"What kinds of things?" Jimmy asked, trying to imagine Evelyn being rude, and failing.

"I- I may have confessed my feelings to Mary," Evelyn said, casting a low and wretched glance at the floor. "I don't know exactly what I said- I drank to such excess that I've forgotten, you see. Anyways I recall that we quarreled, and I told her to leave without me."

"Quarreling is good," Jimmy said.

"I fail to see how," Evelyn replied, unhappily.

"I think in Mary's case it means she's invested," Jimmy said.

"I don't know," Evelyn said. "She went off with Charles-"

They were at the back doors. Outside dusk was falling over the swimming pool, and Jimmy realized that somehow he had lost several hours in Thomas's company. "Should I call for a car?" Jimmy asked- but Evelyn shook his head. "I think I'll walk back," Evelyn said. "And think on my foolishness." With a last apologetic look Evelyn left, through the yard and away.

"You'll do alright!" Jimmy said, to Evelyn's back- and the other man turned around, and raised his hand, in a brief wave.

Jimmy turned back towards the house- only to see Thomas appear in the doorway, a cigarette in his hand.

"You handled that very well," Thomas said approvingly to Jimmy, when he came back. "He had no idea you weren't from now."

"I don't think he'll say anything," Jimmy said- and put one hand around Thomas's wrist. Jimmy's stomach ached with thwarted arousal, and as he touched Thomas's skin the feelings all came back to him, in a rush.

"It doesn't matter if he does," Thomas said, casting a sour look in the direction Evelyn had gone. "You were right- in what you've always thought. Enough money elevates you above casual inquiries."

"I don't care about money," Jimmy said- and Thomas leaned down a bit, to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"Mmm," Jimmy said. "Wait. I want to- there are some things I want to do." Jimmy looked Thomas square in the face- and cupped his hands between Thomas's legs, to the erection that Thomas still sported. "Hn- yes, of course," Thomas said, tilting his head upwards at the touch, as if in prayer.

"Take me to your bed," Jimmy said, lowly, flexing his fingers- and Thomas nodded, pressing his lips together. Jimmy felt a twinge of pride at having made Thomas so aroused- and he squeezed Thomas's hardon once more, before dropping his hand. "Ah," Thomas said- and fastidiously fixed his suit again, with shaking hands. "Uh. Yes." Thomas said, clearly attempting a recovery.

"Your bed," Jimmy prompted, feeling his heart race.

"This- this way," Thomas said- and he gestured for Jimmy to follow him, up a half-hidden stairwell. Jimmy looped in arm in Thomas's own, so that they climbed the stairs together.

"This is a servant's staircase," Jimmy observed, trying to keep his wits about him- and Thomas nodded, staring straight ahead. "I had meant to have another room set up," Thomas said, quietly- and Jimmy looked over at him quizzically. "What d'ya mean?" Jimmy inquired, and Thomas looked askance. With his gloved hand- the hand that held the cigarette- Thomas tugged at his tie. "I just- I have a room up here," Thomas muttered.

"In the servant's quarters?" Jimmy asked incredulously, after a silence.

"Well. Yes," Thomas said, looking over at Jimmy guardedly- and they arrived in an attic hallway- and Thomas turned the handle to the first door on the right. "Don't make any jokes," Thomas said, giving Jimmy a look- and then they walked into the room. It was much similar to other servant's quarters that Jimmy had seen- nondescript, really- but with a lavish oriental rug on the floor- and all of Thomas's thigns- and a large, well-appointed bed, which seemed absurd in the modest room.

Jimmy saw very little about it that was funny- but he smiled at Thomas, and grabbed his arm. "Aren't you the strange one," Jimmy said- and Thomas rolled his eyes, looking aggrieved. "I just like the lower ceilings," Thomas muttered. "I had my own room, in the palazzo- but it had such high ceilings that I couldn't sleep. Eventually I just took an empty room in the attic."

"You didn't sleep in bed with the Count?" Jimmy asked- and then bit his tongue. Of course Thomas wouldn't want to discuss that. But Thomas didn't seem upset- he only shook his head no. "Only sometimes," Thomas elaborated, putting his cigarette end in an ashtray, by the bed. "When he wanted it. He knew I'd want to get away from him, after..."

Thomas did not elaborate. "I hate that," Jimmy said, and was surprised by the depth of feeling in his own voice- as if he had not been able to hide it. "I hate that," he said again-and crossed to where Thomas stood, by the bed, to put his hands on him. Immediately Thomas put his hands around Jimmy's waist- and Jimmy lined their legs up- so that he could press against the evidence of Thomas's arousal. "Take this ridiculous suit off," Jimmy said, tightly- and kissed Thomas's soft mouth.

"Yes," Thomas said- kissing Jimmy again- and then he stepped back, began to expertly undo his own tie. Jimmy followed his example, and stripped off his old livery. They undressed at the same pace- and Jimmy took a breath when the pale skin and musculature of Thomas's torso were revealed- it seemed as if he shone, in the dimming light of the attic.

"God, you're beautiful," Thomas said, his eyes raking over Jimmy's form hungrily. "You're so beautiful, Jimmy-"

"Don't j-just call me beautiful," Jimmy said, laughing shakily- and Thomas laid his hands against the bare skin of Jimmy's chest, running his palms down Jimmy's front, and around to touch his bare back. "That feels nice," Jimmy said, feeling his eyes begin to fall shut from the touch. His pulse came alive under Thomas's hands- he could feel the rapid beating of it in his throat and his groin, pounding out a rhythm of desire. Jimmy reached out- and touched the smooth skin of Thomas's back, tracing abstractions over his body, until Thomas shuddered against him- and reached his hands lower, unclasping Jimmy's trousers. Jimmy held Thomas around the shoulders as Thomas stripped him of his trousers- and Jimmy groaned as the fabric dragged over his cock- and then Thomas was pushing down his pants as well- so that Jimmy stood naked before him, save for the waxed circlets of twine that ornamented his limbs and neck. For a moment Jimmy felt quite vulnerable- but then he looked at Thomas- who stared at him, his lips parted- and smiled. "Glad you like me, Mr. Barrow," Jimmy said, managing a wink- and he tugged at the waist of Thomas's trousers. "Now you."

Thomas stripped to nothing, wobbling backwards as he kicked his trousers off of his ankles- but he caught him self with preternatural grace- and Jimmy sat on the large bed, trying not to shake. "Come here," he said, in a muted voice- and Thomas sat down next to him.

Jimmy could not look away from where Thomas's erection jutted up from the dark hair between his legs. Thomas's cock was so hard that it stood almost flat against his abdomen- and Jimmy reached over- and gripped the shaft of it underneath the flushed tip, running his fingers up and down the length of it. Thomas made a choked sound, his eyes squeezed shut, and rocked back and forth slightly on the mattress. "You're thick," Jimmy said, lowly, unable to take his eyes off of the sight of his hand around Thomas's hardon.

"I-I'm glad you find me-nnh- so," Thomas said, with an unsteady laugh- and he reached out his hand, to touch Jimmy in kind. Jimmy gritted his teeth when Thomas touched him, trying not to moan- and Thomas's deft fingers stroked his erection, making Jimmy forget what he was doing. "Ahh- ahh, yes, I want you," Jimmy said- and Thomas lay down on the bed, on his side- and pulled at Jimmy, so that Jimmy followed suit. When Jimmy was sideways against the mattress Thomas captured his mouth, kissing him deeply- and Jimmy brought one hand to Thomas's hip. He could feel the push of Thomas's prick against his own, and Jimmy dragged himself closer to Thomas's body, kissing him with everything he had.

"I-ah-" Thomas said, and leaned back. Jimmy regarded Thomas, with no thoughts except for the thought that he must have more of him, now-

"I want you to be inside me," Jimmy said, meeting Thomas's eyes. Thomas looked taken aback- he blinked- and blood flooded to Thomas's chest, adding a blush to match his cheeks and his cock. "Ah- are you sure, Jimmy?" Thomas asked, brushing Jimmy's hair away from his face- and at the tenderness of the touch Jimmy felt as if his heart could break, so dearly did he love the man before him. Jimmy nodded, smiling at Thomas in helpless happiness. "I'm sure. I have thoughts on what we should do the first thousand times, at least."

Thomas's eyes widened, and he nodded- and Jimmy kissed him again, on the corner of his lovely lips. "You're beautiful, too," Jimmy confessed, whispering in Thomas's ear. Jimmy thought he should feel ridiculous, but he only felt lust- and a happiness so intense that it seemed as if he could be lifted off of the ground by it.

Thomas unbuttoned his glove- and Jimmy blinked, noticing a mark, on the side of Thomas's left wrist. "What is that?" Jimmy asked, curiously- he grasped Thomas's hand- and drew it to his own face. It had grown quite dark in the room, and Jimmy could scarcely see- but he made out two eyes, each bare centimeters across- and two brows over them- in a straight, neutral line. A tattoo.

"Y'have a tattoo?" Jimmy asked- and kissed the inside of Thomas's wrist, below where the little tattoo was. "Yes," Thomas agreed, looking at his own wrist. "I got it when I began to study some of the... more specific arts. It helps to-"

"It's for doing magic with?" Jimmy asked- and he leaned back, to turn on a lamp. In the light Jimmy could see that the eyes and eyebrows were done in a shade of particular blue- a color that imbued the tattoo with a strange quality. "It's the Ochi den Nezeu," Thomas said, flexing his wrist. "The Eyes of the Universe."

Jimmy shivered at the thought of the Count having Thomas marked in such a way, and Thomas, as aroused as he was, managed a smirk. '"God sees all," he intoned to Jimmy, in a mock-ominous voice- and Jimmy shook his head- and leaned off of the bed-carefully- to pick up his discarded necktie.

"I don't like it," he said, to Thomas, seriously- and he wrapped the tie around Thomas's wrist, making Thomas laugh softly. "I suppose if you don't want to let God look in-" Thomas said, and Jimmy finished the knot, and kissed Thomas. "You can love me now," Jimmy said, solemnly, earning another smile.

"Alright," Thomas said- and crawled across the bed, to his nightstand- and came back to Jimmy, holding a little jar of petrol jelly in his hand. At the sight of it Jimmy's heart skipped a beat- and he felt nervous- which was ridiculous, after he had waited for so very long. We're really going to do this, Jimmy thought, and then- Oh I hope I'm good at it- I hope he likes it with me-

"N-now," Thomas said, coming back, to face Jimmy with a sincere expression- "I have to do something to you first- to get you- ah- ready-"

"I know," Jimmy said, feeling his face get hot despite himself. "I've done it with my fingers before."

Thomas looked thunderstruck-his eyelids fluttered- and then he recovered himself, and unscrewed the jar's lid.

"I was thinking of you when I did it," Jimmy added- it embarrassed him to admit it- but the look on Thomas's face was well worth it- and the fact that Thomas dropped the jar onto the bed, and then fumbled to pick it back up. "Suave, very suave," Jimmy said, laughing breathlessly- and Thomas tilted his head back up, lifting his eyebrows in an expression so dear to Jimmy that he felt like weeping. "There you are," Jimmy said- and watched, as Thomas spread the lubricant over two of his fingers. The silk tie around his wrist gleamed in the light of the only lamp. "Stay with me," Jimmy said- and brushed Thomas's loose hair back from his face, gently.

"I'm with you, Jimmy," Thomas said- and kissed him on the cheek and then the neck. "I'm going to-"

"Yes. Please. I-I want you to be inside me, I don't care how it sounds, I want it very much," Jimmy said, into Thomas's hair. "I want absurd things. I want to- ah-" Jimmy broke off as Thomas rubbed one finger against him- and then Thomas pressed, easing his finger into Jimmy very slowly. "I- ah- that feels good-" Jimmy said, his voice hitching. "I- yes, oh-" Jimmy moved his body against Thomas's hand, moaning at the sensation. "Yes, that's good," he said. "Y-yes- oh Thomas, do another-"

"Alright, take a breath," Thomas said- and kissed Jimmy's chest- before pulling his hand back, in a way that made sparks shoot up Jimmy's spine- and adding another finger. "Is that too much?" Thomas asked- but Jimmy couldn't form words- instead he shook his head back and forth, and moved his body up and down. "Huh-ah- Thomas your hands feel so good-" Jimmy said- and Thomas took Jimmy's cock in his other hand, rubbing it.

"Ah, n-no, don't, I'll come right now," Jimmy ground out, through his clenched teeth. "Don't- ah- T-Thomas-"

Thomas dropped his hand- and stretched up to kiss Jimmy, with his other hand still inside of him, moving. Spreading me apart, Jimmy thought- and the thought and the feeling combined made him struggle to get a breath.

"Come here, I'm ready, please," Jimmy said- and bit his own lip, as Thomas removed his fingers. Jimmy pulled him up, so that they lay flush against each other once more- and he found the discarded jar, and spread some petrol jelly onto his own hand. "Are you sure?" Thomas asked- he sounded out of breath- but Jimmy only kissed him, and nodded. "Yes, of course," Jimmy said. "Now let me do you." Jimmy reached forward- and grasped Thomas's erection loosely in his hand- and then tightened his grip, a bit- until Thomas took a gasping lungful of air. "Hmm- yes-" Thomas said, softly, as Jimmy rubbed the jelly up and down the length of his cock. The head of Thomas's penis had a bead of fluid on it- and Jimmy swirled it around with his thumb, transfixed by the sight. "Oh, Thomas," Jimmy said- "You want to be inside me, look-" and Thomas groaned- and bit down on Jimmy's lower lip, his teeth tracing patterns that he followed with his tongue. "Ah-" Jimmy said- and gave Thomas's prick one last caress, before sitting up.

"I know how I want it, too," Jimmy said, when Thomas sat up as well, with a look of confusion on his face. It was difficult to move around much, as hard as he was- but still Jimmy managed. He turned, and shoved the myriad pillows on the bed into a pile- and then leaned foward, pushing Thomas's chest, so that Thomas moved backwards. "You lay up against that," Jimmy said- and Thomas broke into a laugh. "Bossy," Thomas said- but he obeyed Jimmy- and moved back, his long, muscled legs stretching out against the bed. "Put your knees up," Jimmy commanded- and Thomas raised an eyebrow at him. "What are we doin' exactly?" Thomas asked- his words were normal, but Jimmy could see where Thomas's pulse flickered in his throat- giving him away.

"I- ah- I think this is physically possible," Jimmy said, with a laugh in his voice that betrayed his anxiety. "I want to- to sit-"

"It's possible," Thomas said, his eyebrows furrowing- and he touched the side of Jimmy's face, sweetly. "But it's a bit- ah- deep- for someone who's-"

"Never done it before, right," Jimmy said, nodding. "I- yes. I want it to be deep." He had to look away- from Thomas- bashfully- but then he looked back, in time to see Thomas breathe out a long, shuddering sigh, at his words. "Alright- but slowly," Thomas said, his voice hoarse- and Jimmy nodded, and climbed atop Thomas, resting his knees on either side of Thomas's body.

"Carefully," Thomas said- and Jimmy nodded- and reached back, grasping Thomas's hardon- and guiding himself back, onto it. Jimmy took a deep breath at the pressure of the head of Thomas's cock- and he moved against it, working his own muscles open by slow increments, not sliding down any further.

"Aagh, carefully," Thomas said, looking into his eyes, from where he leaned against the pillow- and he reached out, to rub his hands along Jimmy's shoulders, in a soothing motion. "Hnn, god," Jimmy said, breathing as evenly as he could- and he sat still, getting used to the sensation of being pushed open- his thighs trembled out of control, and the tremors worked their way through the muscles that connected him to Thomas, making them both groan. "Yes," Jimmy said, when he could think again- and he slid down a bit further onto Thomas's cock, losing his breath at the sensation of fullness. "Ah, you feel l-like- like so much-" Jimmy said- and Thomas closed his eyes. "Yes- hn- that feels good, you feel wonderful, be easy with yourself, ah-" Thomas said, his voice- normally so precise- torn to shreds by lust. His hands came to Jimmy's hips, to steady him- and Jimmy pushed himself down further, easing towards Thomas's hips. "Christ- oh, Jimmy," Thomas said, staying very still- but his face was twisted into a look of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. "Yes, yes," Jimmy said, trying to accustom himself to having Thomas inside of him- and the curve of Thomas's penis pressed within him, sending sensation rippling through his abdomen. "I- I can feel your heartbeat-" Jimmy said, shakily- and Thomas nodded, and ran his left hand over Jimmy's stomach- and the tie around his wrist trailed lightly after his fingers. "Is it too much?" Thomas asked- and Jimmy bit the inside of his mouth- and shook his head no. "Just give me a moment before I move," Jimmy said, tightly- and shut his eyes, making himself relax. "It's hard to be calm when I need you so m-much," Jimmy said, not caring how soppy it sounded, with his eyes still closed- and he felt Thomas's hands move over the shaft of his penis, rubbing it. "Oh-oh-" Jimmy said- and rocked back and forth minutely, against the discomfort he felt, seeking out Thomas's hands with his body. His movement made Thomas moan in turn- and Jimmy moved against him.

"Ah- Jimmy I love you- you feel so bloody good-" Thomas said- and Jimmy tried to increase his movement- but it was too much- and he stilled, gasping. "Ah, that hurts," Jimmy said, pushing his hair out of his eyes with his shaking forearm. "Ah-"

"No, hold still," Thomas said, immediately- and he grasped Jimmy's hips, holding them in place. "We're going to turn over," Thomas said. "It- it'll hurt you less. Unless- do you need to stop?" Thomas asked- and he studied Jimmy's face, touching his hair, with an expression of concern.

"No, I don't want to stop," Jimmy said- and Thomas nodded- and lowered his legs. "Hold on to my shoulders," he said- and Jimmy laughed. "What are we doing," Jimmy asked, holding onto Thomas- and Thomas-somehow- had the wherewithall to smirk at Jimmy- and then without preamble, Thomas rolled them over- keeping their bodies connected- so that he ended up on top, and Jimmy was lying beneath him, with his knees up. "Ah- some magic trick," Jimmy said, resting against the pillows. "I know, I'm marvelous," Thomas said- Jimmy thought he was aiming for humor- but Thomas's voice was so thick that the words came out garbled- and he pressed a kiss to Jimmy's throat. Jimmy felt some of the pressure relieved at this angle- and he breathed out, in relief.

"Is that better?" Thomas asked, squinting at Jimmy in an expression of concern- and Jimmy squinted back, in a mockery of his expression- and nodded. "Yes, much better," Jimmy muttered- and he moved up against Thomas, and gasped. "Yes, that feels very g-good now," Jimmy said- and moved against Thomas once more. "Yes," Thomas said- Jimmy could feel the line of Thomas's body- and how Thomas kept himself very still, with an effort- and Jimmy moved again, savoring the feeling- it was still a bit uncomfortable- but there was pleasure in the discomfort, something deep and aching. "You should move," Jimmy said, holding on to Thomas's back, and dragging their torsos closer together. "Just a little."

"Alright- ah-" Thomas said- and he moved his hips minutely, sending a swirl of hot pleasure through Jimmy's body. Thomas filled him- and Jimmy's own erection was pressed between their bodies, throbbingly hard- and Jimmy moaned at the dual sensations- as Thomas's abdomen dragged up and down the shaft of his cock- and Thomas's penis moved back and forth within him. "Yes, yes," Jimmy sobbed, holding on to Thomas as they moved- and Thomas managed to kiss Jimmy's mouth, whispering words against his lips. "I love you, I love you," Thomas said- he said it as a prayer- and he tilted his hips, making Jimmy cry out. "Nnnghh, oh, yes," Jimmy said- his body tensed, as if he would come- but the sensation was too overwhelming- and he could not achieve release- and moaned again, buffeted by helpless pleasure. "God, oh, Thomas, I love you and I need you- I-"

"Yes, I that's perfect, Jimmy, oh, I love you-" Thomas said- and moaned, when Jimmy's muscles flexed against him. "Ah, yes, that's right," Thomas said- and Jimmy stopped moving, and held himself perfectly still. Thomas immediately stilled as well- and leaned in, looking down at Jimmy worriedly. "Aright?" Thomas asked- and Jimmy kissed his mouth. "Y-yes, oh, yes," Jimmy said, and Thomas looked reassured. "You're big, though," Jimmy said, unsteadily. "It feels good."

"You feel good, so good," Thomas answered- and kissed Jimmy's temple, and his brow. "But- just- hold still for a moment," Jimmy said- and Thomas nodded- and his eyes widened when Jimmy put his hands between their bodies, gripping his own prick. "Mmph, yes," Jimmy said- he could feel Thomas, holding still inside him- but still filling him, making him spark and ache with pleasure and pain- and Jimmy stroked himself, his hand brushing up against Thomas's torso. "Ahh, yes," Jimmy said- and Thomas made a sound- and pressed his mouth against Jimmy's, kissing him, so that they were connected at two points. "Oh, oh, ahh-" Jimmy said, against Thomas's lips- and with his hand Jimmy increased his pace- and he rubbed himself against Thomas's torso, bumping the head of his cock into the muscles of Thomas's stomach. "Ah- please," Jimmy said- and his muscles tensed again- and he felt his body grip tightly around Thomas's hardon. "Hh, ah- y-yes," Thomas said, as Jimmy's muscles tightened- and then Jimmy moaned- his eyes shut of their own accord, and he felt only the pulsing of his prick in his hand- there was nothing else, except for Thomas, above and inside of him- and he came, moaning, and spilling himself between their bodies.

"Yes," Thomas said, into Jimmy's mouth- and Thomas kissed him, again and again, all the while keeping his own body still, as Jimmy trembled through the aftershocks. After a moment Jimmy opened his eyes- his body still quivering- and he looked into Thomas's face, shyly. "You should move now," Jimmy said- and kissed Thomas on the cheek- and ran his hands through Thomas's soft hair. "It's your turn."

"I- are you sure?" Thomas asked, hesitantly. "It will feel-"

"Perfect, it will feel wonderful," Jimmy said, cutting him off- and he hugged Thomas to himself, for a moment, before releasing him. "Do it to me, Thomas," Jimmy said, in his lowest tones. "Please."

"Ah. Alright-" Thomas said- and when he did not move right away Jimmy moved his own hips against Thomas's cock- watching Thomas's face contort with desire. "Yes-ah- god-" Thomas moaned, moving against Jimmy- his eyes were screwed shut- but they flew open- and he gazed at Jimmy in wonder, and with a passion so intense that Jimmy felt his heart would burst. "Does that feel good?" Jimmy asked- and he bumped his hips up, as Thomas moved within him- making Thomas moan, in a choked voice. "Aghh, god, y-yes Jimmy, you- y'feel- ahh-" Thomas said- and he pushed his hips against Jimmy again, his mouth open, his lips pressing kisses to Jimmy's face in between words, over and over- and Jimmy tensed his muscles with a conscious effort, watching Thomas gasp for air. His face, like that, Jimmy thought, dizzily, it's so beautiful-

"Jimmy," Thomas said, through gritted teeth- "I- I'm going to-"

"Yes, please, inside me," Jimmy said- and Thomas nodded, his body shaking- and thrust against Jimmy in an uneven beat. Jimmy grabbed Thomas as Thomas moaned, incoherently- and then Thomas shut his eyes, and moved back and forth rapidly, making Jimmy lose his breath. "Ah-ah-ah-ah-" Thomas hissed. Thomas's expression was vulnerable- as exposed as Jimmy had ever seen him- and Thomas's hips moved once more, sharply- making Jimmy gasp- and then Thomas stilled, with a shudder- and slumped down, his head resting on Jimmy's chest. "Ah," Thomas said, against Jimmy's skin. "Ah. Hah. God."

Jimmy ran his hands through Thomas's hair, and down his back. "That was exactly right," Jimmy said, tiredly. "I love you, Thomas."

"I love you too," Thomas said- and he eased carefully out of Jimmy, and turned on his side, so they lay facing one another. Jimmy stroked Thomas's hair- and pushed at the pile of pillows, so that they could each rest their head. Thomas reached out, and gathered Jimmy to himself, running soothing fingers along Jimmy's chest, over his sides, and down, across his back. "We can do anything we want, now," Thomas said, in a whisper. "We can run away. Go everywhere. Be together always."

"Mm. Yes, that's what I want," Jimmy said, and closed his eyes, at Thomas's touch. "I'm falling asleep, I think," Jimmy said- and he felt Thomas kiss his cheek- and then he was lulled to sleep in Thomas's arms, and dreamed, for a time.

Jimmy woke up with a feeling of excitement- something marvelous had happened, and he did not know what- and then he remembered- and looked around for Thomas, his heart beating wildly. Thomas- who had come back- who loved him and wanted him and gotten hard for him and been inside him-

It took Jimmy a moment to realize Thomas was standing over him, in the light of the only lamp, holding a tray. It was disorientingly dark outside- Jimmy had expected it to be morning- and he glanced around, as Thomas set the tray on the bed.

"Hello," Jimmy said, shyly- and he smiled at Thomas, ducking his head. Thomas was wearing a dressing gown in silk, with a gaudy pattern on it- and the necktie around his wrist, and nothing else. He smiled at Jimmy as he sat down, crossing his legs. Jimmy blinked at Thomas's bare skin, revealed by the dressing gown

"I brought food," Thomas said, indicating the tray. "It's all left over from the party- I didn't want to make anything."

The tray was laden with food- figs and grapes and chocolate dipped apricots- day old pastries- and a jug of water and a bottle of wine in the middle, artfully arranged, with glasses. "Get a yen for your old job sometimes, d'ya?" Jimmy asked, laughing- and he sat up- and winced at the stiffness of his muscles. "Oh," Jimmy said, grimacing- and Thomas peered at him worriedly. "Are you alright?" Thomas asked- and Jimmy leaned forward, and kissed him. "Yes," Jimmy said, pulling back after a moment. "T'was a pleasure to be torn apart by your overly large-"

"Pardon me, a thousand times," Thomas said, making an expression of scandalized outrage- and then laughing. Jimmy joined him, and they both laughed for a moment- and it felt like nothing so much as their days together at Downton, years before. But better, Jimmy thought, happily, so much better-

Thomas's face had an inconcealable look of joy about it- the stupid grin he sometimes wore, that Jimmy so adored- and Jimmy touched his cheek- before glancing down at the food- and realizing that he was ravenous. "This looks good," he told Thomas- and ate a handful of apricots in one go. Thomas poured them each a glass of wine, and took an enitre bunch of grapes in one hand.

"You're thinner than you used to be," Jimmy said, studying the other man- and Thomas looked self-conscious. "What of it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Jimmy.

"I don't know," Jimmy said, airily. "I was always hoping you'd get a bit fat. Keep away interested parties, and then I could have you all to myself."

Thomas laughed in the middle of taking a sip of wine, and covered his mouth with his hand. "You're so good at bein' a flirt when you don't mean it," Thomas said, when he recovered- and he gave Jimmy a wicked look, which made Jimmy's stomach do somersaults. "But you're awful when you try."

"You're awful, much worse than I am," Jimmy said, chuckling- and took a drink from his own glass of wine.

"Anyways," Thomas said, around a mouthful of food, "You've always had me all to yourself."

"Not always," Jimmy said, thinking of the Count- and he set his glass down, and grabbed Thomas's shoulders. "Promise never to leave me again," Jimmy said. "I could live a thousand years and I-"

"Never," Thomas said, his expression solemn, all of a sudden. "I swear it."

Jimmy nodded- and lifted his wine glass again- in a toast. "To us," Jimmy said, with perfect solemnity.

"Against the world," Thomas said- and they clinked glasses, and drank- and then kissed- to seal the pact. "Hmm," Jimmy said, at the feeling of Thomas's mouth. "That's right."

The wine made Jimmy feel warm- and after they'd moved the tray, he slid under the comforter again- and Thomas climbed in beside him, wrapping himself around Jimmy.

"Stay close to me," Jimmy said- and felt Thomas's hands pull him even closer. Thomas rested one hand on Jimmy's hip, and Jimmy covered the hand with his own, holding them together. "I'm going to sleep so well," Jimmy said, and Thomas, his eyes mostly shut, muttered: "I hope I don't wake you- I have fitful dreams-"

"No, none of that," Jimmy said- and turned his head, to kiss Thomas's brow. "Just rest..."

"I am resting," Thomas said, into the pillow, with an irritated look- he was already half-asleep- and Jimmy grinned, secure in the bed- and chased sleep- falling into it, somewhere along the road that led to dawn.

In the early morning Jimmy awoke, with Thomas beside him, and stretched, in the grey light. It really happened, all of it, Jimmy thought, triumphantly- and then he realized that his body hurt, and he felt profoundly in need of a bath. Jimmy climbed carefully out of the bed- and when Thomas shifted, he leaned over him. "I'll be back," Jimmy said- and Thomas nodded, with his eyes still closed- and rolled over, covering his face with the comforter.

Jimmy put on his old uniform with distaste- and slung his jacket over his shoulder. On Thomas's nightstand the green spectacles gleamed- and Jimmy had a sudden image- the crystal waters of the swimming pool- and Thomas's pale skin, touched by orange light- with a fog of crimson red- blood red- swirling through the waters around him-

"Ah," Jimmy said, clutching his brow- but the image was gone- and he shook his head.

What was that? Jimmy thought- but the vision did not repeat itself- and Jimmy made a face at the eyeglasses- and cast another look over Thomas's blanket-outlined form- and then slipped out, through the door.

Jimmy had the feel of Haxby by now, and he found the back entrance easily- and strode past the pool, down the path to his cottage. Jimmy felt- different, he mused- complete- as if some part of himself that he had lost when Thomas had left had been now regained- and now Jimmy could appreciate it all the more- tempered as he was, by experience. By the time his cottage was in view Jimmy had begun to whistle- an airy tune that he had heard somewhere- maybe at Monsieur Bireaux's singular parties, when the music had drifted over to his house on the wings of evening.

In his humble home Jimmy walked carefully around the artful bouquets and oddly-placed furniture- the service was still set up- with the teapot full of cold tea that would never be drunk.

Jimmy cut the irritating twine away from his neck and wrists and ankles, and drew a bath. The water stung when Jimmy climbed into the tub, and he winced- and sat still, letting the heat relax his muscles. In his head he pictured the events of the previous evening over and over, until he had an erection and his heart was thudding away madly in his chest- and he brought himself off with a moan, thinking of Thomas's hands. I never have to go without that, Jimmy mused- and smiled to himself, with nobody to see him.

Jimmy combed his hair into its usual style, and put on one of his own suits- they weren't much, when you put Thomas's wardrobe up against them, by comparison, but Jimmy picked out a tan one he thought he looked sharp in. Better than livery, anyway, Jimmy decided- and fixed his tie- and suddenly there came a knocking on the front door of his house.

Followed me, Thomas? Jimmy thought, with amusement- and he swung open the door, with the phrase on his lips, about to say it to Thomas's face- but then he was looking at Thomas, and the distressed expression on the other man's face silenced him.

"Ah- good morning, James," Thomas said- and Jimmy's heart sank, at Thomas's distant tone. Thomas was dressed in an impeccable white suit- with a brazen lavender tie- and his green spectacles fixed firmly on his face- but his mouth was twisted down, into an involuntary picture of misery- and Jimmy saw how Thomas looked over his shoulder, as if trying to peer into the depths of the cottage. You must be joking, Jimmy thought- and he gave Thomas his most annoyed look. "Morning," Jimmy said, tersely- but Thomas seemed not to noticed his mood- he raked a hand through the silver part of his hair, and put his other hand up beseechingly. "He left me, dear chap," Thomas said without preamble, shifting uneasily on the porch. "I'm rather afraid I did something wrong-"

"He left you?" Jimmy repeated, incredulously, and Thomas nodded, once. The sunlight streamed down around the cottage behind Thomas, nearly silhouetting his tensely-held shoulders.

"Jimmy," Jimmy said, flatly- and Thomas nodded again, pushing up the spectacles, and giving Jimmy a view of his wide and anxious eyes.

"I need you to go and get him again for me," Thomas said, in a rush. "And bring him back-"

"No," Jimmy said, and rubbed his own forehead with his hand.

"Ah-" Thomas stopped, looking almost panicked- but then he recovered himself, twisting his hands together. "I know it's a bit of trouble," Thomas said- "but I have to see him again- it's terribly important- and I'm afraid he won't be able to find his way back to me-"

Somehow, in the thrill of being loved by Thomas, it had escaped Jimmy's recollection that Thomas was utterly mad. Jimmy recalled it now- but the knowledge of Thomas's madness- most likely the product of some deep harm that the Count had done to him- did nothing to ease Jimmy's hurt feelings. You were inside me last night, and this morning you treat me like an acquaintance, Jimmy thought, sickly. Jimmy felt as if Thomas had cut him to the quick- and the sting of it made his tone clipped, and angry. "Instead of obsessing about me from the past you should spend some time with me, the man who's right here in front of your face," Jimmy said- and Thomas drew back slightly at Jimmy's heated words. "I- I'm very sorry," Thomas said, looking pained. "I-"

"You have your motor out," Jimmy said, indicating what he could make out of the far-away front of Haxby. "Where are you going?"

"Ah- into town," Thomas said. "To meet one of my solicitors. But now- now t-that Jimmy's gone off-"

"Take me with you," Jimmy said, cutting him off, "and I'll think about helping you."

"Ah- oh, yes. Of course you can come if you like, dear chap," Thomas said, adjusting his necktie in a motion that seemed to be more out of upset than purpose. Thomas held his arm out, indicating that Jimmy should go with him- and Jimmy stalked furiously past him, clutching his hat. You shouldn't be playing along with this, Jimmy told himself, scowling, as he marched up the gravel drive, towards Thomas's shining grey automobile. But perhaps if he could persuade Thomas to see the flaws in his own plan-

You can't fix madness, Jimmy thought- and he pulled open the door on the passenger's side, and slid onto the seat. Thomas started the engine- and began to guide the car down the long drive. You can't fix madness, Jimmy thought- But what if it isn't madness? Just- pigheadedness- and a lot of hurt and suffering-

Thomas tucked his green eyeglasses into his pocket, and drove them out onto the country road, and Jimmy noticed the expert skill with which Thomas handled the automobile. "When did you learn to drive?" Jimmy asked, in his curiosity temporarily forgetting his frustration.

"Oh, more than four years ago," Thomas said. The sleeves of Thomas's suit slid a bit down his wrists- and Jimmy could see the edge of the tattooed pair of eyes, looking emptily out from above Thomas's glove. Those eyes are blank, but they see things, Jimmy thought, uneasily.

"I learned last year, myself," Jimmy said, into Thomas's silence- and he stopped short, grimacing as they hit a bump in the road. "I'm not very good yet." Jimmy shifted uncomfortably- and Thomas glanced over at him. "Are you alright, dear ch- James?" Thomas asked.

"I'm sore, Thomas," Jimmy said- hoping to provoke some reaction from the other man- but Thomas only glanced over at him again, with the mildest concern. "I hope you're not getting ill," Thomas said- taking the car neatly around a bend in the road. Jimmy was almost certain that particular curve was the spot Matthew Crawley had died in, several years before- but he couldn't be positive. "Or did you strain yourself?" Thomas asked, in the same vaguely polite tones.

Jimmy put his head in his hands- and chuckled mirthlessly.

"Let me ask you something," Jimmy said, lifting his mouth away from his hands. "What gave you the idea to bring me back from the past?"

Thomas looked ahead at the road- and he was silent for a moment- but then, just when Jimmy thought he wouldn't answer- Thomas began to speak.

"In the second year I lived with the Count I began to get- restless," Thomas said, tapping the fingers of one hand on the steering wheel. "I could feel my life slipping away, you see. I was unhappy. Greco could see it. And he knew I had left behind someone I loved."

"Yes?" Jimmy prompted, when Thomas appeared to be lost in thought.

"He had been teaching me a bit of the Art," Thomas went on. The way Thomas said 'Art' led Jimmy to understand that Thomas was not referring to painting. "I tried to send you letters, dear chap," Thomas said, abruptly. "I wanted you to know that. I put them in the envelopes. Sometimes I would walk all the way across town, just to post them- but no matter how far I went, when I returned to the palazzo- the letters were always folded, on my bed."

"I tried to visit you in your palazzo," Jimmy said, quietly. "I took a vacation to Milan one summer. I was going to try to beg you back. But it was locked. Empty. I suppose you were on a summer holiday."

"When?" Thomas asked, looking over at him- and Jimmy shrugged, although he knew exactly when. "About two years ago," Jimmy said, looking at the road, as they passed through the cobbled streets of the little village that the Crawleys owned and which he kept most of the accounts for.

"But we were there," Thomas said. "We always summered in Milan."

"It was empty, I'm telling you it was empty," Jimmy said, more insistently that he had meant to- but Thomas nodded, in agreement. "I'm sure it seemed empty," Thomas concurred. "The Count could've made it seem so."

"Right," Jimmy said. He wanted to be sick- as if that would expel some of the unhappiness he felt. "The second year," he prompted Thomas, who was driving with a thoughtful expression.

"Ah. Yes," Thomas said- not in the voice he'd used the previous night- his real voice- but in the postured and grand tones of Monsieur Bireaux. "And so then- Greco told me he would teach me a very complicated spell. More difficult than the usual fogs and phantoms."

"To get someone out of the past," Jimmy said- and Thomas nodded. "It was the only way. I had to be accountable for my- decisions- but Jimmy didn't. He doesn't have to wait but a day for me, before we can begin anew."

"You're trying to make up for it," Jimmy said- and placed a hand on Thomas's shoulder- but Thomas did not lean into the touch. He regarded Jimmy's hand on his arm with a look of mild consternation, until Jimmy pulled his own arm back.

"Yes," Thomas agreed, nodding. "And I have done. I gathered everything I needed- the signs and the sigils- a night lit by stars- an offering of goodwill to the universe-"

"What, the parties?" Jimmy asked.

"The parties- all those people, to help with the spell's energy, though they didn't know it," Thomas said. "The man from Now-"

"Ah, here I am," Jimmy said, indicating himself.

"The eyes that see-" Thomas said, tapping the pocket that held the spectacles. "The bell that rings through time- and the twine."

"Is that why you got that tattoo?" Jimmy asked, indicating Thomas's left wrist- and Thomas looked down, to where his sleeve had fallen back, exposing the design. "N-no," Thomas said. "Not at all, dear chap. I got that earlier. Greco told me that if I wanted to learn-"

"I think he did it just to have power over you," Jimmy said, angrily. "You're listening to him still. Hasn't it occurred to you that none of it makes sense?"

"I don't take your meaning," Thomas said, mildly. They were on the road that led into Ripon- and Jimmy saw a new petrol station going up, in what had once been picturesque countryside. They drove past the station without stopping- Thomas drove a bit fast for Jimmy's taste, and with the casual air of someone who was completely at ease driving.

"Suppose everything goes according to plan and you do run away with your Jimmy," Jimmy said, feeling ridiculous referring to himself in such a manner.

"Yes," Thomas said, nodding.

"Well- what then?" Jimmy pressed. "Suppose the twine he has to wear forever breaks off. Suppose he disappears back into his own time- in some strange place- and you can't retrieve him. You won't have me- because the past five years won't ever have happened- and so I won't exist." The idea struck Jimmy as he said it aloud, and he turned to Thomas accusatorily. "If your little plan went right- you'd be- you'd- unmake me."

"I- am not certain that it would be like that, dear chap," Thomas said, sounding uncomfortable.

"Who's to say it wouldn't?" Jimmy countered. "Who's to say it isn't happening already? Suppose that all of a sudden, when I woke this morning, I had a memory I've never had before- of being led away by an older version of myself- and seeing you again- being angry with you and happy with you- and going to your bed?"

Thomas blushed crimson at Jimmy's words- but his tone was one of flat denial, when he spoke. "You're trying to apply logic- and I understand that, I do," Thomas answered. "It's the natural inclination, when you first start dealing with this sort of thing. But logic doesn't apply. The natural laws- the course of the world- can be altered- bent, or broken-"

"Oh go to hell," Jimmy snapped. "That sounds like something the Count said to you. Don't you dare repeat his speeches to me."

"Ah-" Thomas glanced over at him uncomfortably. "I didn't mean to-"

"You'd kill me- and everything I've felt- and lived- just to have your perfect version- the one you never did nothin' wrong by," Jimmy went on. "Just to feel better about your mistakes. You should've asked me how I felt."

"I wasn't thinking of you," Thomas said. He had the grace to look sorry. "I was thinking of Jimmy."

"You were thinking of yourself!" Jimmy nearly shouted. "You've thought of yourself the whole time. How to ease your regret, how to win a bunch of money without working for it so that I would go off with you- how to take the easy path-"

They had entered the city- Jimmy had not even noticed, so invested was he in the conversation. Thomas parked the car along one of Ripon's streets- and when he had turned the engine off he turned to face Jimmy, holding up one finger- and Jimmy quieted, at the look that had crossed Thomas's face.

"Not without working for it," Thomas said, lowly- and Jimmy's skin prickled, at the look on Thomas's face- the closest he had ever seen Thomas come to being angry with him. "So don't you ever think so. I worked for it. I paid for every cent."

Jimmy looked into Thomas's eyes- and then nodded, grasping the hand that Thomas had angrily pointed towards him with. "I'm sorry," Jimmy said, still meeting Thomas's eyes. "You're right. But Thomas-" Jimmy searched Thomas's face- as around them the sounds of the city traffic went on.

"Yes," Thomas said, tightly.

"You can't- you can't reshape the past," Jimmy said. "You can't do that."

"Of course I can," Thomas said, harshly. "I'm the only one who can." Abruptly Thomas pulled out his pocketwatch- the sight of it gave Jimmy a wash of déjà vu- it was the same one Thomas had always possessed- and he stared, as Thomas checked the time. "I have a lunch with my solicitor. He's come up from London so I can sign some documents. You're free to join me, dear chap."

"No," Jimmy said. "I need to walk and think. I'll meet you back here in-"

"Two hours," Thomas said. His features were composed now, and he regarded Jimmy from the lofty perch of his false persona, reflecting back mild concern.

"Right," Jimmy said, and climbed out of the auto, slamming the door with more force than was perhaps necessary. Jimmy strode rapidly in the opposite direction of Thomas- and found in his pocket his cigarettes. He smoked while he walked aimlessly, falling into step with the city-dwellers. It's not going to work, he's too far gone- Jimmy thought- but last night- and he found himself blinking back tears, so deeply did the memory of the previous evening work upon him. I'll never have that with him again, Jimmy thought- the juxtaposition of the night with the day was so drastic that it brought him to grief- but Jimmy shook his head, not giving in to sadness. "I'll make him see," Jimmy said aloud, startling a woman who walked next to him.

Jimmy firmed up his resolve- and also he strode purposelessly for a long time, taking deep, even breaths, until he had run out of cigarettes and had to stop in to a shop and purchase more. At the counter he bought an extra pack of Woodbines- for Thomas, since he even now seemed to prefer them. I'm still angry with you, though, you idiot, Jimmy thought, feeling his heart spike- underneath his forced calm his mind was roiling with emotions, each more distressing than the last.

When Jimmy finally returned to the street where Thomas had parked the car, Thomas was waiting there. There was no chauffeur- no indication at all, besides the obvious expense of the car- that Thomas was one of the wealthiest men in this half of the world- and Jimmy scowled. He's not rich, that's why, Jimmy thought, watching Thomas from across the road, as he waited for a break in the early afternoon traffic. Even if he has a lot of money- he's not like a rich person. He puts on a lot of airs and speaks in a mannered tone, but he's just Thomas. Pretending that he has it all well in hand.

With that thought fixed firmly in his mind, Jimmy determined not to be swayed by Thomas's strange ideas- and he walked to him.

Thomas smiled at Jimmy- that politely distant smile that Jimmy had seen many times, but never, until the past two days, directed at himself. At James. "I hope you had a nice time," Thomas said, courteously- and Jimmy glared daggers at him. "I hope you had loads of fun yourself," Jimmy said, his tone bordering on rudeness. "Playing with your assets."

"It's not any fun," Thomas said, ignoring Jimmy's tone- idly he waved a hand in the air. "It's dull."

"Don't tell me it's dull, I'm a bloody accountant," Jimmy said. "I know it's dull."

"Right," Thomas said, opening the driver's door- and Jimmy shook his head. "Let me drive. I want to drive." I need to calm down, Jimmy thought- and Thomas nodded, graciously. "Ah- of course, if you want," Thomas said.

"You haven't asked me a thing about myself," Jimmy said, sitting down. He hadn't driven a car in some months- and on every instance he had driven, Branson had always been in the car with him- a reliable instructor- but he managed to start the car- and, with some difficulty, pull away from the curb.

"Is it because you don't want to get attached to me?" Jimmy asked, tersely. "Because you're going to try and unmake me?"

"I know all about you," Thomas said. He sat on the passenger's side, in a comfortable posture- and from his pocket he pulled the green spectacles, slipping them on. For some reason the sight of the eyeglasses annoyed Jimmy immensely.

"I followed whatever you did, as best I could," Thomas said.

"Spied on me through your looking glass, locked as you were in the enchanted kingdom," Jimmy muttered, nastily- and Thomas turned, to look at Jimmy through the flat gaze of the eyeglass lenses. "You're upset, dear chap," Thomas said. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, wouldn't want upset me, not when you need me to play Pied Piper to your beloved Jimmy," Jimmy said, navigating carefully around other cars- he stuck to a low speed, in case he should suddenly do something stupid, like forget where the brake pedal was.

"Be careful there," Thomas said, as Jimmy took a turn- and Jimmy saw that Thomas's hand had come up, right underneath the steering wheel, as if he would wrest it away from Jimmy.

"I know how to drive," Jimmy snarled. "If you weren't so busy caring about the how the other me ran away- to go have a bath- perhaps you'd recall that I already told you I know how to drive."

"I don't know why he ran away," Thomas said- his voice colored with dark tones of pain- as Jimmy steered them towards the road that led away from Ripon. "I- it seemed so- perfect-"

"It was perfect," Jimmy snapped. "It was perfect and I know it was because I was there. Not me-from-five-years-ago. Me."

"Yes, you said you- ah- had a memory now," Thomas answered, facing towards the road. Jimmy was overwhelmed with the urge to reach out- and rip the emerald eyeglasses from Thomas's face- but he didn't dare take one hand off of the wheel.

"No, you idiot," Jimmy snapped. "Not a memory. Me. I never went to fetch myself. I put on the uniform- I put on the twine- I fixed myself how I used to- and you didn't suspect, because you're half out of your mind with this idea- and you didn't even noticed my changed eyes, or whatever stupid cruel thing you said-"

"I don't underst-" Thomas began, but Jimmy interrupted him, driving faster, as his words picked up speed. They flew down the road away from the city, pushing on towards the little village.

"I was the one who waited for you, and I was the one in your damned bed," Jimmy spat, taking a turn of the road at a clip. For a few minutes neither of them spoke. They passed the half-constructed petrol station, and clattered onto the cobbled streets of the village.

"You-" Thomas looked up at him, but his eyes were obscured, and Jimmy could not gauge his reaction. "It was you?" Thomas asked, quietly, after a moment.

"Yes, of course it was me," Jimmy said, impatiently- and then, as they left the village, Thomas shouted aloud. "Stop!" Thomas commanded- and wrenched the steering wheel to the side, so that the car spun out of Jimmy's control for a dizzying moment. Jimmy wound up on the wrong side of the road- and he blinked, frightened and disoriented- and pulled off the road entirely, shutting off the automobile. "What?" He asked, as Thomas climbed out of the car in one graceful movement, not bothering to open the door. "Did I hit something?" Jimmy had seen nothing- and felt nothing- but perhaps he had been so upset-

"No," Thomas said, shaking his head. "I saw us. Crossing the road. You nearly drove through us-"

"Us from the past," Jimmy said, slumping forward in the seat. The divine absurdity of the situation rolled over him like a wave- and Jimmy put his hand over his mouth, and laughed, so hard that he was momentarily afraid he would not be able to stop.

"We were sneaking across the road," Thomas said, from in front of the car. "Maybe it was that night that we watched the meteor shower-"

Something significant about the night of the meteor shower clicked in Jimmy's head- and he stopped laughing, and raised his eyes. "I've only just remembered," Jimmy said. "It's my birthday today. I'm thirty years old." He had been twenty five on the night of the meteor shower- five years ago the very day. And a month later Thomas had left him.

"I- you never told me what day it was," Thomas said, taking off the eyeglasses, to look at Jimmy's face. He came back over to the car, his forehead furrowed with concern. "Many happy returns."

"Right," Jimmy said, laughing again- and then he climbed into the passenger's seat. "You drive," he told Thomas- who blinked rapidly- and then got into the car.

"It was me," Jimmy said again, before Thomas started the engine. "Look into my eyes so I know you're listening. I see you in there, Thomas. It was me. Nobody else."

"I-"

"It was," Jimmy insisted- and Thomas shook his head, as if in abject denial- and maneuvered the car back onto the road. "It does seem very like something you would do," Thomas said, after a pause. He sounded as if he might be in shock. "You are duplicitous."

"Only when I have to be," Jimmy shot back. "You wouldn't listen to me any other way. You were putting on a front-"

"It's not a front," Thomas said, insistently, pressing his lips together in a straight line. "It's who I am now-"

"You're a liar," Jimmy retorted, reaching out, and gripping Thomas's knee. "You're the same- and I'm the same- and even if we aren't exactly, we still love each other the same- so get a damned grip on yourself, because I can't-" Jimmy paused, his voice breaking over the words, and took a breath. Thomas's face had gone utterly white, and Jimmy could see how he tried to work upon himself some degree of composure.

"I can't wait for you anymore," Jimmy said, quietly. "I have to have a life with you. I've been waiting for so long."

"But-" Thomas seemed to cast around, looking for words- and they reached the driveway to Haxby. "But wouldn't you rather-" Thomas said, as the motor crunched up the gravel drive- "Rather not have to- to go through it? Wouldn't you rather be spared the pain?"

"No," Jimmy said, immediately. "I wouldn't give up who I am. Not at all."

"But then it was all for nothing," Thomas said, as if to himself. He turned off the car and got out, walking like a man in a trance towards the front doors. Jimmy followed him, though Thomas had extended no invitation- the look on Thomas's face frightened Jimmy, as if Thomas were walking around in his sleep.

"It's alright," Jimmy said- reaching for Thomas's arm- but Thomas walked on, through the vaulted hall of Haxby. "It's all going to be fine, now, because-"

"It's not fine," Thomas said, without inflection- and he brushed by an end table, usurping a vase as he passed it- and Jimmy watched as the vase clattered to the floor, and shattered into a thousand porcelain pieces- but Thomas did not turn around at the noise, nor at Jimmy's gasp of surprise- he kept moving, walking with strange, jerky movements- towards the back of the house.

Jimmy walked alongside Thomas, grasping at his elbow- but Thomas did not respond to his touch- and as Jimmy watched Thomas reached the back doors of his estate, and threw them wide open- and walked through them, to oversee his yard, in all of its glory. The fat midafternoon sun hung in the sky, tinting everything with a orange light- and the swimming pool shone like a jewel under it.

Thomas paused at the exit, and fumbled around in his coat with shaking hands- until Jimmy, realizing what he was after, gave him a cigarette- and Thomas took it- and accepted the light that Jimmy offered. But smoking did not seem to calm him. "Thomas-" Jimmy said, tugging on his sleeve- but Thomas walked away from him, down the stone steps- to look out over the pool.

"It was all for bloody nothing, then," Thomas said- and Jimmy watched him flick the mostly-unsmoked cigarette into the shining waters- and then Thomas turned away, his face set in a grim mask. "I've been had, dear chap," Thomas said- and his voice was dangerous- and he looked dangerous- like a villain in a picture- and he walked past Jimmy briskly, to one of the glass-topped tables that lined the pool.

"I've been bloody tricked!" Thomas shouted- "By that bloody old bastard- that lying rat- that fiend-" and with a sudden movement Thomas grabbed the nearest table- and smashed it roughly to the ground. Glass shattered everywhere- in arcs it swept across the stone that edged the pool- and Jimmy startled back, away from the cloud of shards. "Thomas," Jimmy said, with terrible alarm- but Thomas ignored him, and advanced to the next table.

"I should've said no, I should told to him to- agghhh- damn it to hell!" Thomas railed- and he swept the second table over- glass smashed again- and Jimmy could see that Thomas had been cut somewhere- glass glittered on the shoulders of his white suit- and his hands were bleeding-

"Thomas- stop-" Jimmy said, taking a step towards him- "You're out of your mind-"

"To go shove off -to take his devil's deal and rot with it!" Thomas snarled- and he paused, panting, and pulled off his suitjacket. "I want no more of it!" Thomas said- and from the pocket of the coat he produced the spectacles- and smashed them to the ground, grinding the heel of his shoe against them savagely. As soon as the spectacles broke the odd green color winked out- and they were made of regular, untinted glass, as clear as anything. One of the lenses was utterly shattered- but the other one had broken out mostly intact- a circle, with one dangerously sharp edge.

"Aghh, no more, I can't stand it," Thomas said, and raked his hands through his hair, his chest heaving up and down from exertion. Jimmy watched, open-mouthed, as Thomas kicked off his shoes- and he bent to the ruined eyeglasses- and picked up the lens that was still mostly intact- and then, clutching it like a cross, Thomas walked through the broken glass- to the pool. It must have hurt awfully- Jimmy could see that Thomas left bloody footprints in his wake- but Thomas gave no sign- and he climbed into the pool, still mostly dressed, walking through the waist deep water.

"Thomas, what in hell are you doing?" Jimmy asked, trying to control his fright at the sight of Thomas so unhinged- but Thomas was beyond answering him- he was ranting at the sky- his hair in his eyes, waist-deep in the water-

"I don't want it, I don't want it, I can't bear it, I can't live with it," Thomas ranted, his eyes burning- and suddenly he pulled up his sodden sleeve- and ripped off his glove- to bare the blue tattoo- the Ochi den Nezeu- the Eyes of the Universe- the Count's mark- and he pressed the shard of glass against the bone of his wrist, just underneath the tattoo.

"No, don't!" Jimmy yelled- realizing what Thomas was about to do, an instant before he did it- and Jimmy jumped into the pool,, without thinking- and struggled against the water that filled his suit and shoes- toward the center of the pool, where Thomas stood, by the statue.

"You can't trick me anymore and you can't have me anymore," Thomas hissed, to the sky- and then he dug the glass into his skin, slicing it so deeply that he gouged a wound in the side of his wrist- and he dragged the glass under his skin- and out again, above the tattoo- so that he had cut away a piece of his own flesh- and Jimmy made an involuntary sound at the sight of Thomas so wounding himself- carving the mark out of his own skin- and then blood gouted from Thomas's wrist, and Jimmy made it to him, moving awkwardly under the water.

"I won't be a part of it anymore. I'm going to live my own life," Thomas said, weakly- and Jimmy ripped off his necktie, and grabbed Thomas's shaking wrist, wrapping the tie tightly around it, to staunch the flow of blood. "My god, my god, Thomas, we have to get Doctor Clarkson," Jimmy said, shakily. he could not make his hands let go of Thomas's wrist.

"It'll be fine," Thomas said. He sounded much better, suddenly- in fact he sounded composed- and he looked straight into Jimmy's face- he was pale, but alert.

"N-no, you c-could've hit a vein," Jimmy said. He felt as if he could fall over. "I- have to- oh, god-"

"I didn't hit a vein," Thomas said- and he used his uninjured hand to push a strand of hair back from Jimmy's brow. "I'm fine. I'm alright now."

"I have to ring the doctor," Jimmy said, around the tightness of his throat- he grasped at Thomas's hands- and then he felt tears start in his eyes- he was powerless to stop them- and he clutched Thomas's shirtfront, trying to drag him out of the pool. "I have to ring the doctor-"

"Jimmy," Thomas said, peering down at him, and speaking in an annoyed tone, "I'm a medic. I would tell you if you had to call a bloody doctor."

"Oh god, it's really you," Jimmy said- and started to laugh through his tears- he rested his head on Thomas's chest, holding him close, as the water rippled around them. "You're really alright."

"I believe so," Thomas said- and he kissed Jimmy's head. "I was a bit upset. I hope you'll forgive me."

"Oh, don't do any of that fancy Monsieur Bireaux shite with me," Jimmy said, into Thomas's shirt.

"No," Thomas agreed. "But I do have to ask your forgiveness."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I loved you then," Jimmy said- and looked up, into Thomas's face. "I love you. I have for such a long time."

"I'm sorry for leaving you," Thomas said. "And I'm sorry I can't make it right-" and with that he leaned down, and kissed Jimmy's mouth, and Jimmy kissed him back, feeling a dizzying rush of hope- of happiness- uncurl within his own being. "Was that cathartic?" Jimmy asked, breathlessly, when Thomas pulled away from him- and together they turned their heads, to survey the damage- broken tables and knocked over chairs- and blood- and mountains of glass. It's going to be alright now, Jimmy thought, holding Thomas close. It really is.

"Cathartic?" Thomas echoed- and he smirked at Jimmy. "Jimmy," Thomas said- with all of his old imperiousness- and a good dose of tenderness, besides- "you have no idea."

---

As it turned out Thomas did need stitches- and when Jimmy flatly refused to do them himself- and insisted that Thomas couldn't wait for one of his own London specialist to arrive- they called Doctor Clarkson. Jimmy savored Clarkson's stunned expression when he was greeted at the door to Haxby by the elusive Monsieur Bireaux- but Thomas wasn't putting on any airs, now- and he scowled at Clarkson by way of greeting, and was generally disagreeable about pulling the glass out of his own feet- and finally Clarkon was gone, and Jimmy almost tipped over, in gales of laughter. "You weren't very nice," he told Thomas, after the doctor had left, through the large front doors- and Thomas had shrugged- smoking one of Jimmy's cigarettes. "I paid him, didn't I?" Thomas said- and Jimmy had laughed again.

Of course after that Thomas's true identity had spread like wildfire through the village- aided, no doubt, by Mrs. Crawley- always Clarkson's confidante- and her vigorous ability to repeat news- and Jimmy been asked about him on all sides by various inquiring parties. Circe Connolly rang Jimmy up, and hounded him for an interview with Thomas. "You're a critic, Circe," Jimmy had said, over one end of a bad connection. "What makes you think he'd subject himself to an interview with a critic?"

Thomas moved into Jimmy's cottage. "I sleep much better in here," Thomas said, on the first morning that they woke up in Jimmy's bedroom together. "I used to lie up nights in that place-" with a gesture he indicated the house behind them- "an' think about all the empty space under me- full of the past-"

Jimmy shuddered- and Thomas shuddered as well, as if in admittance of the horridness of the green spectacles- and they stayed only in the cottage after that. The nights were full of love, and desire- and Jimmy thought that somehow each time was better than the last. Why would anybody want to remain in the past, when the future holds so much promise? Jimmy wondered. At night he would feel such happiness that it was hard to sleep- and beside him Thomas, sometimes afflicted by nightmares- but more often not- would reach out for him, from within dreams- until Jimmy curled into him, and they both slept.

They discussed where to go. "I want to see New York City," Jimmy said- and it had been agreed upon. "I've never seen it, either," Thomas said. "The problem is- I have too much money. We have too much. It almost makes it harder to do things when y'have so much."

He had shown Jimmy his accounts- and Jimmy had been staggered by the wealth that Thomas possessed. "It is too much," Jimmy said.

"Y'see the difficulty," Thomas had replied, as they stared at the reams upon reams of papers. "I have a team of solicitors. They all seem beside themselves half the time."

"So let's give some of it away," Jimmy said, suddenly. "We'll keep enough to be rich- and do whatever we want. But give the rest away."

"That's fine," Thomas said, with a nod.

"But give it away to whom?" Jimmy mused, and Thomas shrugged. "Give it to Alfred, for all I care," Thomas said.

"No. I mean- perhaps we should take care of them-" Jimmy said. "But we can't give it all to Alfred and Daisy. This kind of money ruins people."

"Give it to somebody who can handle it, then," Thomas said- and Jimmy stroked Thomas's hair- the silver streak had disappeared from it, as if it had never been- and pondered. "Yes," Jimmy said, after a moment. "I think I know what to do."

They gathered in the dining hall at Downton- the upstairs dining hall, not the servant's hall- though Jimmy supposed that both he and Thomas would have been vastly more at ease if the meeting had taken place downstairs. The gathering was thus: Jimmy, Thomas- six of Thomas's rather venemous looking solicitors- Lord Grantham, Tom Branson, Lord Grantham's solicitor- and Lady Mary, who watched the proceedings with avid interest, as if she were at the theatre.

Thomas, actually, did not seem that ill-at-ease. He lounged in one of the chairs at the table he'd once stood silently by, smoking- and signed in the appropriate spaces.

"But it would give you controlling interest in Downton," Lord Grantham said, for perhaps the tenth time. Thomas kicked Jimmy's ankle under the table each time Lord Grantham uttered the phrase, and Jimmy kicked him back, trying to keep from laughing.

"My client has waived all proprietary claims to the estate," one of Thomas's solicitors said, as if he were speaking to someone a touch slow. "As long as the stipulations laid out in the contract are followed."

Jimmy had labored over the clauses in the contract- and he was quite proud of the result. An almost outrageous pension would be gifted to Mr. Carson upon retirement- as well as a place to live, in the village- and the same for Mrs. Hughes- and Mrs. Patmore. Thomas had looked vaguely pleased at the prospect of helping Mrs. Hughes- but otherwise he had been indifferent to the kindnesses Jimmy had devised. "I don't care, just fix it how you think is right," Thomas had groused- and Jimmy had. Alfred and Daisy's costs would be paid well into the next century- and he had done the same for Mr. & Mrs. Bates. Thomas had rolled his eyes at that, but acquiesced. "If we must," he said, to Jimmy. Jimmy had also said his goodbyes to Daisy and Alfred- and Daisy had cried, a bit- but Alfred had only embraced him, and promised to keep his piano in working order, until he returned. "I'll hold on to it for you, mate," Alfred said, smiling. "I've gotten used to havin' it take up space."

As for Thomas- he had begun, with purpose, to sell off the objects of his estate- he sold the art collection- and the antiques- and ripped the painting of Maximillian Leka to shreds. Jimmy had seen it one morning, out by the refuse bins. "More catharsis?" he had asked Thomas, as they'd walked past- and Thomas had nodded, smugly. "I quite enjoy catharsis, I find," Thomas had said loftily- and Jimmy had laughed, and embraced him.

Now, in the dining hall, Thomas and Lord Grantham finished signing their documents- and then Lord Grantham offered his hand across the table- and Thomas shook it, managing- Jimmy noticed, relieved- not to make a terrible face. "I can't thank you enough, Thomas," Lord Grantham said- "for your incredible generosity. George's grandchildren will grow up here, thanks to you- and so shall their grandchildren."

"Don't thank me, Robert," Thomas said, in politest tones. "It were all Jimmy. It was all Jimmy. His idea. Everything."

"And I can't say how sorry I am to be losing you," Lord Grantham said, transferring his handshake to Jimmy. "James, you've been a tremendous help over the years. I can see why Thomas snapped you up, to manage his own accounts."

"I know, and I'm sorry to leave you so suddenly," Jimmy said, with secret amusement. "But the idea of going to America proved impossible to resist. I think I'll love the culture. And the food."

Thomas did not want to see anybody- but Jimmy shoved him at the back stairs. "You get down there and you say a proper hello-and-goodbye to all of them," Jimmy said- and Thomas had gone down the stairs, muttering halfhearted protests- but before Jimmy could follow, Lady Mary caught his arm.

"You have to say goodbye to George, or he'll be heartbroken," Lady Mary said. "You're his special favorite." Lady Mary looked around, and added, in a undertone, "Are you running away with him? Is that what this is?"

"Absolutely," Jimmy said- and Lady Mary smiled, clapping a hand to her mouth. "I knew it," she said, leading Jimmy towards the sitting room. "Circe thought so, too."

"Well for God's sake don't spread it around," Jimmy said- but Lady Mary was shaking her head. "No of course not, James," she responded, opening the doors. "Though I should get your advice, before you vanish forever. I've had proposals from Evelyn and Circe- and-"

"Mother! Jimmy!" George said, rising from the couch, where he had apparently been laboring over a book that looked far too advanced for him. "Have you come to say goodbye?" George asked, when he reached Jimmy- and he looked up at Jimmy, so solemnly that Jimmy reached out, to ruffle his hair. "Yes, and give you a gift," Jimmy said- and pulled from his pocket his well-worn deck of cards. "I want you to practice with these, so that when I come to visit, you can show me all the tricks."

"Your lucky cards? Really?" George asked- but he took them immediately, with the honesty of the young- and admired them, as if he had received a great treasure.

"Say 'thank you' to Mr. Kent," Lady Mary said- and Jimmy looked at her, and smiled, and George hugged him, with a grave expression. Jimmy wondered if she would choose Evelyn- the knight in rather ordinary armor- but a knight, nonetheless- or Circe- the dark horse. I like the dark horse, myself, Jimmy thought- but vaguely he hoped that she would give poor Evelyn a chance. Either way, the drama went on. It would, Jimmy thought, continue to go on, without him.

Finally they left- it was difficult to pry Thomas away from the servant's hall, once he'd taken a seat down there- he seemed to enjoy showing off in front of Mr. Carson- and then Thomas kissed Mrs. Hughes solemnly goodbye- and he and Jimmy got into the sleek grey auto- and drove away. Jimmy turned around in his seat, to watch Downton get smaller, behind them- and then he sighed, happily, and clutched Thomas's hand.

"Tomorrow, London," Jimmy said. "And then the ship. And then America."

"Oh," Thomas said, squeezing Jimmy's hand. "I thought it went America-London-ship. More fool me."

The spell had been broken, Jimmy mused- and the poisoned artifacts were gone- and Thomas was his, and he was Thomas's- and they were both well- and happy. And they say a life without regrets is half a life, Jimmy thought- as the car sped down the sunstruck lane, and towards the cottage where Jimmy had, for a time, made his home. Thomas was warm and alive beside him- and Jimmy was fortunate in that. And in the profound love they shared- both physically and otherwise- like something out of a story. I suppose I am very lucky, Jimmy thought. It all worked out.

"I love you," Thomas said, apropos of nothing- and Jimmy smiled at Thomas's elegant profile- as Thomas drove. "I love you, as well, Monsieur Bireaux," Jimmy whispered, into his ear- and Thomas smiled, a wry smile that contained a little embarrassment. "I was a great fool," Thomas said, and Jimmy grinned. "That's a relief," Jimmy said. "Because I was certain the man I fell in love with was a great fool- so you must be he."

"Absolutely," Thomas said- the corners of his mouth turned up, in amusement- and he squeezed Jimmy's hand, again.

Thomas had fought against his own fate- against his mistakes, Jimmy thought- looking at the dappled sun, and the vibrant blue of the sky, and feeling a wild excitement within his own heart- a thrill- a stretch- towards the promise of another day- and a new set of circumstance- a grand adventure that they would face together.

Thomas had tried to change the past- but now he saw- as Jimmy had known- that it could never be altered- and the best chance any person had of undoing their mistakes was to stride boldly on, learning what they could, and living. Their paths were not predestined- they went forward, without any guarantees- pushed into tomorrow as endlessly as the ship that would take them to another country. We are all caught in the current, Jimmy thought, -and it takes us onward.

Yes. It pushed them on, the tides of time- like boats, moving under the directives of the Universe- moving ceaselessly, ceaselessly- into spaces brilliant and starry, into a world that did not yet exist, because they had not yet made it- into the unknown future.