Introduction

The origins of these stories are a function of technological curiosity rather than anything else. Of course, the initial glimmers of these stories lie within moments in episodes, too small and too ethereal, for them to have become anything more than just fleeting thoughts on the canvas of the mind. Luckily, it would seem, Tumblr is built for this exact kind of ephemeral idea spit-balling. These conversations, I initially thought, were too short and too insignificant for fanfiction net so I decided not to write them. But while playing around with one of Tumblr's post types, this initial story flowed right out, and the quite unexpected enthusiasm I received for a (very) short story featuring Tom and Matthew, along with the agitation of a few readers, prompted me, not only to write more, but to post them here. So if you subsequently enjoy these chapters, it would behoove you to track down Andorra97 and AmeriGirlTN and thank them.

These first few chapters will feature conversations with the deceased, but who knows where it will go from there. These early chapters are all ostensibly in canon, although tonally may differ quite drastically. I may not stick to canon, I may dip into my own AU (how masturbatory is that?) or even into other people's AU's (I'll ask permission first). I will try to state at the beginning of each chapter in what timeline the chapters takes place in. Who knows, anything is possible.

And without further ado...

Canon. Series 5, episode 7.

Tom: Sorry, I haven't been around in a while.

Matthew: That's quite alright, you've been busy.

Tom: That's no excuse.

Matthew: You get used to it.

Tom: Don't say that.

Matthew: Why not?

Tom: Because we haven't. I haven't.

Matthew: Things will get better.

Tom: Things weren't at all better at dinner tonight.

Matthew: So I've gathered.

Tom: This? Oh, I thought you'd enjoy some.

Matthew: Well if you insist.

Tom: Here.

Matthew: Oof! That's rough.

Tom: Tyrconnell, you dream of this stuff when you're a lad.

Matthew: So what's bothering you?

Tom: Sybil... the Crawleys... you know... the usual stuff.

Matthew: You don't usually carry your pipe wrench around when it's the "usual stuff".

Tom: Larry Grey came to dinner tonight.

Matthew: That must've been fun.

Tom: Like a barrel of monkeys.

Matthew: Has he changed?

Tom: For the worse. Did you know your mother is marrying Lord Merton?

Matthew: No... this is the first I'm hearing of it.

Tom: Oh, I just thought Mary may have mentioned it.

Matthew: She doesn't, she doesn't come by quite as often anymore.

Tom: She's... she's had a lot on her mind lately.

Matthew: That fellow, what was his name? Tony?

Tom: We don't have to talk about it. She hasn't forgotten, despite what you may think. Despite how she's been. She's a great mother to George. She loves him dearly.

Matthew: I'm glad.

Tom: I'll bring her by some time.

Matthew: No, don't do that. If it hurts, it hurts. I don't want to cause her anymore more pain. In a way, I'm glad. I never wanted to her to spend the rest of her days in gloom.

Tom: You miss her...

Matthew: Desperately.

Tom: I miss... I miss... her too... How is she?

Matthew: Oh you know Sybil, everyone loves her.

Tom: Is she happy?

Matthew: Yes, very. It's in her nature to be.

Tom: Good.

Matthew: And she wouldn't want you to go through with what you're thinking. I know I'm going to sound like Robert saying this, but you've come so far. You have to let certain things slide.

Tom: It's not just about Sybil... It's about your mother as well.

Matthew: Oh.

Tom: You know I called him a bastard. Shocked everyone.

Matthew: Did they at least take your side?

Tom: Hesitantly.

Matthew: They've accepted you.

Tom: I suppose so.

Matthew: Then go back there and make the best of an awkward situation. You've done your duty, for both Sybil and my mother. Don't take this any further. Giving Larry Grey a crack across the head with that thing won't make you feel any better, despite what you think.

Tom: I know, that's probably why I came out here tonight. Besides, I'm much too drunk to put up a fight now.

Matthew: Good, then I've done my bit.

Tom: One more?

Matthew: No, I'm fine.

Tom: Come on.

Matthew: Alright, one more.

Tom: And I promise to drag Mary out here.

Matthew: Don't. She's too stubborn anyways.

Tom: Ha! You're not wrong about that.

He pours the rest of the bottle onto the mound of dirt, soaking it and creating a strong stench of whiskey before placing his hand on the tombstone one last time, bidding Matthew farewell.