Note: I'm not sure how often I'll post on this one. This is just for fun. My other Downton fanfic that I'm more invested in is PREY if you want to check that out. This is specifically a Brary chapter, since I'm still disappointed it didn't happen. *Spoilers ahead if you haven't watched 6x08* Their argument goes a little differently, since I was a bit irritated that no one seemed to be too concerned about Edith and Tom was more upset that Mary had ruined things between herself and Henry. But, anyway, enjoy.

Mary straightened in her chair as she heard footsteps down the hall. It could only be one person. No one else came inside the agent's office except her and Tom. Maybe the occasional visitor, but there was no cause for a visitor today. She made sure to school her expression into a cold mask. She'd become far too good at it, something she'd almost come to regret. Sybil had always been very open about her emotions and Mary had never thought her weak. On the contrary, she'd thought her little sister one of the bravest, strongest people she'd ever known. So why did she think herself so weak if she showed emotion?

Tom's glare pierced her skull as soon as he walked in the door. She nearly crumpled at the sight. He'd never looked truly angry with her before now. She swallowed and avoided his eyes. He wouldn't understand. How could he know the multiple times Edith had tried to ruin Mary's life when they were younger? How Edith had constantly embarrassed her and harassed her about being Patrick Crawley's future wife, how she had even sought to turn Sybil against her at times, how she whined and cried constantly, how she had written to the Turkish Embassy about the incident with Mr. Pamuk? The time between now and then didn't matter—Edith hadn't paid, not yet. She would share in any pain that belonged to Mary. Maybe rage and confusion were blinding her, but she didn't care. What was she supposed to do, when the man she was in love with—the man she shouldn't be in love with—was forcing her into the arms of a man she barely knew? And a race car driver, no less!

"Well, you got what you wanted," Tom growled. "Bertie Pelham's on his way to the train station and Edith won't be married to the next marquis."

She rubbed her fingers together, coiling and uncoiling her fist; it had been a nervous habit since she was a child. It was the only sign of emotion she showed. "Well, that's not what I wanted."

"Isn't it?" Tom moved closer, so that he was standing on the opposite side of the desk.

"What do you mean, 'Isn't it'?" Her voice shook, but more because she was upset at the fact that Tom was angry with her. Tom—who couldn't hurt a fly—looked angry enough to put her through the wall. She wanted to smack herself as she found her eyes roaming his form; as she found herself wondering what it would feel like to run her fingers through his thick hair; as she found her eyes tracing the way his jacket hugged his biceps. Stop it! she scolded herself.

"Why else would you tell Bertie about Marigold?"

Part of her wanted to believe the next sentence that came out of her mouth. But if she'd believed it, she wouldn't have said anything to Bertie in the first place. Still, it was worth a shot to get Tom to not be angry with her. "How was I to know she hadn't told him—"

"Don't lie!" Tom roared. "Not to me! I've stayed silent for long enough, because I just figured it was sibling rivalry, but it's gone on for too long, Mary! When will you stop punishing Edith for your problems?"

"You weren't there when we were younger. You don't know what she put me through—"

"And she hasn't grown past it? You don't think she's matured and tried to be a friend to you now? Because I do! And all she's gotten for her efforts is a sister who can't stand to see her happy!" He paused, catching his breath. "You just don't want Edith to outrank you."

"Bertie deserved to know what he was getting himself into."

"Maybe. But it wasn't your secret to tell."

"Well, it wasn't as if Edith would've told him—"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT! You ruined Edith's life today! You can't stop ruining things—for yourself as well as Edith. How many more lives are you going to wreck just to smother your own misery?!"

Mary stood. She needed to leave before she broke down in tears. She couldn't stand hearing Tom yell at her any longer. "I refuse to listen," she managed before going to move around Tom.

He stepped in her way. "You're a coward, Mary." His voice was quieter this time and she could tell he hated this as much as she did. "Like all bullies, you're a coward."

She stared at him, feeling something inside her break and bend. No, she thought. No, no, no, please don't cry now, please! But it was too late. She collapsed back into her chair and burst into tears, hiding her face in her hands. No! Not in front of Tom, no! He'd already seen her cry after she'd broken off things with Henry, but that had been nothing compared to this. This was full out bawling.

She knew what it looked like: like she was just angry that she'd been caught doing something bad and was crying because she'd been punished. She looked childish. But it was more than that. It was because she was in love with Tom when she shouldn't be, because he was pushing her to be with Henry, because the crash at the race the other day had reminded her so much of Matthew's death. How could she and Tom ever be together? He didn't look at her that way. He was the only one that understood her completely, the only one she felt comfortable enough to be herself around, the only one that loved her home and her son as much as she did. Henry had never once shown interest in either of those things. True, he was nice and handsome, but he didn't understand her. He wouldn't understand her.

The office was silent for several minutes except for the sound of her sobs. She resisted meeting Tom's eyes. She didn't think she could handle the look in them, whether they be angry or sympathetic. But then, it was too quiet. Even in the pauses between her sobs, she heard nothing. Did he leave and she just hadn't noticed? That wouldn't be like him, to just leave her crying in his office. Not unless he really was angry with her.

She dared lower her hands long enough to peek. He still stood there. She promised herself she wouldn't look above his chest, but cracked a moment later. All traces of anger were gone from his face and he seemed to know her tears were something deeper than just getting caught red-handed. His blue eyes—his pretty, blue eyes—were wide and horrified, his body frozen. She hid behind her hands again, unable to hold his gaze.

Finally, he said quietly, "Mary?"

"Go away!" she cried.

She heard him take in a shaky breath. "I—"

"Why can't you just leave me alone?!" She finally met his eyes. He looked on the verge of tears himself. "Why must you always push and shove? Of course I'm jealous of Edith, look at her! She was going to have a marriage with a position and a man she loves!"

"Henry loves you, if you'd just let him—"

"I don't love Henry! How do you not understand? In the past month, I've had to try and get over myself and force myself to move on with Henry, I watched Papa throw up blood and for hours, didn't know if he was going to die or not, take full charge of the estate, see a car crash right in front of me at a race and you don't think I'd be upset?! You don't think I've had enough?!"

He pursed his lips in a thin line, his eyes full of empathy. "I know you're frightened," he said softly, "but Henry—"

"Would you stop with the Henry-this, Henry-that! I swear, sometimes I think you're the one who's in love with him! Because I don't love Henry, I love you!"

As soon as the words escaped her lips, she knew she'd made a mistake. Time froze and an alarm went off in the forefront of her mind. Her body didn't seem to respond to commands and she stayed frozen in the chair. Even her tears seemed to freeze on her face, turning into hot, crusty lines going down her cheeks. She was far too petrified to look at Tom, but she could nearly feel how unmoving he was.

They both were immobile for what felt like eternity. This was why she never showed emotion. This was why she never let anyone in. She would get caught up in her emotions and tell people things she didn't want them to know.

"Oh, God, Mary…" Tom croaked.

"I'm so sorry," her voice faltered. "I—need to leave." She stood and made to bolt for the door.

Tom intercepted her again, grabbing her by the arms, although not roughly. "Wait!" His blue eyes desperately searched her face. "I…" He gulped. "I've only been pushing Henry at you because I never thought I would hear that sentence come out of your mouth."

She sucked in a sharp breath. "W-what?"

"I went across an entire ocean because I thought my feelings were inappropriate and that still didn't work. I thought if I found you a husband, I would finally be able to move on." He paused, staring her straight in the eyes. "I love you, too."

She let out the breath she realized she'd been holding. "Good Lord…" She attempted to regain herself. "Why… Why haven't you told me this before?"

"For the same reason as you. I didn't think I qualified."

"Well, you do."

His lips raised in the ghost of a smile. "Mary… What will everyone else think, if the mother of the future earl of Grantham got together with the chauffeur?"

"I've come to not care so much. I just want myself and my son to be happy—and you're not just a chauffeur."

He was quiet for several moments. "And you think you would be with me?"

She nodded.

"You're certain this is what you want?"

"Tom, you know me just as well as I know you. You know I wouldn't say anything unless I was absolutely sure." She hesitated, then decided for it. She'd already poured her heart out; she might as well keep going. She slowly reached out and moved Tom's hands so they grasped her own. He'd held her hands the other night, after her phone call to Henry, and she'd been longing for their warmth and strength ever since. Her eyes fell to his lips and a wave of exhaustion suddenly hit her. She let herself fall into a slouch before meeting Tom's eyes again. They flickered back and forth between her eyes and lips before he leaned forward and kissed her.

She locked her lips onto his in return, no longer concerned about staying reserved. Tom knew her English side tried to hide things, but he also knew she felt things with every fiber of her being, just as he did. She moved her hands up to grasp his strong shoulders and his own hands explored the curves of her sides. She sucked slightly on his bottom lip, not quite ready to let go.

He pulled away and Mary slowly opened her eyes. Her lips still tingled as she looked him up and down.

"Can I say something without you getting angry?" Tom asked, a guilty shadow passing over his face.

"Of course you can. What is it?"

He hesitated. "I still think you should apologize to Edith."

She rolled her eyes, giving him an incoherent grumble in reply. He chuckled and kissed her again.