A Future Worth Having.
"Darling, it never fails to amaze me how fascinated you've become with my belly as of late", Sybil joked playfully, gently running her hands through her husband's hair.
Tom, who was currently laying between her legs and caressing her only slightly swollen stomach, chuckled but didn't even try to hide the proud and excited smile that may as well have taken a permanent residence on his face ever since she'd first told him they were going to be parents.
"The love of my life tells me that she's expecting our baby and you think I'll not go around grinning like an eejit for the next seven months. Do you know who you married at all, Love?", he asked incredulously.
Sybil laughed, smiling down at him in affection.
He was her darling husband, her equal in every way that truly mattered, her partner in crime.
She had known right from the moment that she had first suspected her pregnancy that Tom was going to be a wonderful father to their future children, just as he already was a wonderful husband to her.
"I'm not sure. You may have to reacquaint me with him later, Mr Branson", she replied with a giggle as she wrapped her legs around his waist, keeping him right where he was.
Years ago, Sybil, like many other girls, had wondered about and even feared the physical aspects of marriage but now that she was here with Tom in Dublin, those worries seemed ridiculous, fading away as soon as they had given themselves to one another, body and soul, for the first time on their wedding night.
Love making had, after all, turned out to be beautiful, pleasurable and (as they say in her new home) 'great craic'.
Tom smiled goofily, his eyes glinting and her intentions for later on duly noted.
He leaned forward until his face was hovering just above hers and kissed her fondly, playfully, teasingly. "I'll be sure to bear that in mind, Mrs Branson."
They lay together like that for some time, Tom returning his attention to reverently running his fingers in figure eight patterns across his wife's stomach and hips, while Sybil turned away from playing with the thick chestnut coloured hair on his head to toy instead with the lighter brown fluff on his bare forearms and chest.
Ever since their first morning as a married couple, they had fallen into simple little intimacies such as these, habits they had picked up along the way as they held each other in the afterglow.
Their newfound closeness (in every sense of the word) quickly became something they both relished completely after so long kept apart by the conventions of society.
Their life together and their status as equal partners wasn't really questioned by anyone in Dublin, at least not to their faces. It was something they both loved about their new home; him being her husband and her being his wife without raising the eyebrows of anyone.
They were simply Mr and Mrs Branson and nothing could possibly be better than that.
"What do you reckon they're going to be?", Tom asked breaking the companionable silence between them, elaborating only when Sybil paused and looked at him, seeming a little confused. "A boy or a girl I mean?".
She sighed thoughtfully, eyes lighting up as she imagined, not for the first time, her and Tom's baby.
Sybil had been watching him play with his nephews when it initially began to dawn upon her that she was ready for her and Tom to actively try to conceive a child.
It had been one of the rare sunny-ish afternoons last winter and since both of them had had the day off from work, they decided to take the train down to visit Tom's older brother and his family in Bray.
Of course her new sister in law, Bridget, had teased her mercilessly as they watched Tom playing with the two young boys in the garden.
They were hitting a small ball back and forth between the three of them with a sort of racket not too dissimilar from a thinner cricket bat with a thick round end to it.
Apparently they were playing hurling, the national sport in Ireland.
...and just like that Sybil was greeted with an image of Tom teaching their own sons to play, an image she found herself liking very much.
"It won't be long until you have your own brood of Bransons", Bridget had told her jokingly, nudging her on the ribs with her elbow.
Clearly Tom's family saw her well and truly as one of them now, meaning you were fair game to poke fun of.
Sybil had smiled at the slightly older woman who was probably around the same age as her sister Mary. "I hope so", she had replied, hearing the sincere truth in her own words as they left her mouth.
Bridget squeezed her hand, seeming to have heard them as well.
Sybil could clearly imagine her first child as a son, an adorable little boy who would be a miniature of Tom with her own light blue eyes that would shine brightly whenever he would get up to mischief-which considering the rebellious nature of his mother and father, Sybil was sure would be all the time.
But just as easily however, Sybil could also imagine being a mother to a little girl.
(Perhaps one day they would have both, a son and a daughter—maybe even more).
It wasn't difficult to imagine their daughter; a little girl with her own dark curly brown hair and Tom's Irish Sea coloured eyes. She would grow up climbing trees, splashing in puddles, riding bicycles and going to school with dozens of other children her age.
Sybil dreamed of a world where one day her little girl would grow up and cast her first vote, go to university and marry whatever man she chose without anyone batting an eyelash just as long as she voted with her own conscience, chose a profession in which she felt she belonged and married a man whom she loved with her whole heart.
Sybil wanted all of it, more than she had ever wanted anything in all of her twenty three years...a free and unrestricted life with Tom and their children, a life where her son or daughter could grow up to be and do whatever their hearts desired.
"I don't know", she replied, finally speaking up. She tried not to blush at how obvious it was to both of them that she had been daydreaming.
"As a nurse, I'm sure that it's impossible to tell the gender of a baby this early on."
Tom smirked affectionately, reaching out and lacing their fingers together. He knew Sybil, better then anybody else in his life, and it was clear to him that she was just as much of a dreamer and of an idealist as he was.
He knew that she had imagined their lives together, imagined their children's faces and what their personalities would be like.
He knew because he imagined those same things himself.
"Yeah, but I'm not asking you as a nurse. I'm asking you as a mother."
Smiling, Sybil moved their entwined fingers to rest on top of her stomach. A mother...in a little under seven months time she was going to be a mother.
"Maybe", she replied with a shrug. "I do have a 'hunch' as Mama would call it, but I do want to hear your opinion first."
Tom smiled, ducking his head a little sheepishly. Seemingly he too had given the matter quite a lot of thought.
"Of course I'd be thrilled with either", he answered earnestly, tucking a stray strand of Sybil's hair behind her ear. "but I think it's going to be a girl. A girl who will grow into a beautiful, strong-willed and free spirited woman just like her mother."
Sybil giggled, enamoured as always by his honesty, but two could easily play that game. "Well, I think it's going to be a boy. Determined, handsome and terribly sure of himself, quite like someone else I know."
"I wonder who that could be"
"No idea"
Tom grinned teasingly, slipping away from his original place between her legs to lie beside Sybil on the mattress.
"Well, boy or girl, I reckon we can be sure that with our blood flowing through their veins, you and I are not going to be in for an easy time of it. Any children we have will definitely be a rebellious lot".
"They'll never lack political exposure anyway", Sybil answered with a smirk, that fell from her face as the next words left her mouth. "...or parents who are willing to support their dreams".
She thought of her own parents across the sea in England and how her mother always assured her that her father sent his love, despite the fact he had never even dropped her a line since she moved to Ireland, not even on her wedding day.
Sybil promised herself she would never choose to distance herself from her children, no matter what they chose to do with their lives or who they fell in love with.
Tom smiled sadly, squeezing her hand comfortingly in his. As much Robert's silence and absence had angered him for Sybil's sake, he wanted to be on better terms with the older man—if only because he meant so much to Sybil.
For now, they could only hope that Robert Crawley would one day completely swallow his pride for the sake of his daughter and grandchildren.
A sacrifice for a future worth having.
"We'll always support them, Sybil", Tom answered softly, running his thumb gently across her knuckles. "We'll stand by them and teach them to follow their hearts and know their own minds. And even though they may not have the same life you did growing up, I'll do my very best to make sure they're happy."
His words transported Sybil back to the day he dropped her off outside the training hospital in York and to the promise he made to her and stayed true to everyday since.
"I promise to dedicate every my waking minute to your happiness" (...but it wasn't just hers anymore, it was their children's too)
Sybil felt herself tear up, unsure if it had more or do with the changes taking place in her body or with the sentiments shared with her by the wonderful man who she called her husband.
(She was more biased to the latter option).
"They're going to be so lucky to have a father like you, Tom", she told him honestly, reaching forward to touch his cheek as she had that evening in the garage at Downton, back when their story was just beginning.
Smiling a little bashfully at her words, Tom exuded a quieter self-confidence than was usually typical of him. Above all else, he hoped he would be a good father and with Sybil by his side, he was sure that he definitely could be.
On the other hand, Tom was already certain that Sybil would make an amazing mother. She was the strongest, bravest and kindest person he had ever met and already he could see a warm and protective glint in her eyes whenever he saw her catch sight of her little bump in the mirror or peeking out from beneath her nightgown.
"Not as lucky as they will be to have a mother like you, my darling".
Tom knew that they wouldn't be in for an altogether easy ride, both of them did...but they would do it together.
Together they could do anything.
A/N: 'eejit' for those not from Ireland means that someone is a fool or just behaving silly in an endearing way.
'great craic' would be the Irish equivalent of Cora's 'most terrific fun' quote.
Also...Look, I know it's cheesy as hell but let me know what you thought! Constructive criticism is always welcome!
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Pearlydewdrop xx