This is the first part of a Secret Santa gift for mosteyn! The second will be up in a day or so. I'll post the prompt when I post the rest of the story as I don't want to spoil it, but this is a Sybil Lives AU, in which only Sybil lived. Most everything else happened as we saw it, so the Bransons are living in Downton village in the agent's house and Sybil is working as a nurse at a hospital in Ripon.
Enjoy!
Christmas Eve, 1926
Sybil stared at the door across the room from her as if trying to will it to open. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this nervous. It seemed silly to her that she was, but she couldn't help it. What the doctor on the other side of that door would tell her would change her life, one way or another. This much she knew, so she just wanted to get on with things.
But she also wanted him to say, "Yes."
So she waited.
—
The night before
"On Christmas Eve?"
Tom looked at Sybil as he changed into his night clothes, wondering why his wife had agreed to go into the hospital that day knowing that they'd be expected at Downton Abbey for the family's usual holiday gathering.
Sybil smiled at Tom's question, already in bed with a book on her lap. "Ill health doesn't take holidays, I'm afraid."
"I suppose not."
"And I only agreed to work the morning. Dear Agnes was kind enough to cover my shift when Sybbie was ill last month. Giving her an extra half-day when she'll be short staffed this evening is only fair." Sybil paused and watched Tom as he removed his undershirt, appreciating the broadness of his back. He turned to her as he pulled an old henley over his head, and his hair fell over his face. He was due for a hair cut, but Sybil would never be the first to suggest it, always loving the feel of his thick hair between her fingers.
"And anyway, I have to go see Dr. Weston anyway," Sybil added, looking down trying to seem casual about it.
Tom pulled at the sheets and settled in next to his wife, watching her and sensing her nerves.
"Are you nervous?" he asked quietly.
Sybil turned to look at him. "Are you?"
Tom sighed, not sure how to answer. "I suppose I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little. Not because it wouldn't make me terribly happy, mind. It's only that our life—"
"Is rather perfect?"
Tom smiled. "It'll always be perfect as long as you and Sybbie are happy, and after everything . . . having to leave Ireland, everything you went through when Sybbie was born, deciding what to do about work for me."
"And then work for me, settling into this house," Sybil continued for him.
"Point is, we've made something so good. Whatever he says, there will be adjustment."
"But we'll adjust."
Tom sat up to more easily kiss her. Sybil leaned into the kiss with a sigh. He pulled away slightly. "You're absolutely right. It will be wonderful, so why does it seem like you're nervous?"
Sybil laughed. "I can't help it."
"Do your parents know we won't be joining them for luncheon then?"
"Yes, and they were disappointed but I told mama and Mary I'd have news to share when we arrived. That seemed to pacify them."
"Will they have seen this coming?"
Sybil laughed again. "They think so."
Tom leaned in for another kiss when a clatter in the next room made them both start.
"MUMMY, I NEED YOUR HELP!"
"Someday that child will go to sleep at a proper hour," Tom said, moving away from Sybil and plopping down on his pillow with a laugh.
"Someday," Sybil replied. She put her book back on her night table and yelled out, "JUST COME IN HERE, DARLING!"
Sybbie ran into the room and jumped on her parents bed with a great sense of urgency. Tom laughed as she saw her getup. One of her mother's nursing caps was askew atop her head, an old kitchen apron was tied over her nightgown and she was holding a rather large teddy bear whose stuffing was coming out its belly, the fabric of which had been cut open.
"I had to operate," Sybbie said in the most serious voice she could muster.
Tom watched with a smile as Sybil also put on a serious voice, putting the teddy bear between them.
"I see that, Doctor Branson. A very serious case, indeed."
Sybbie nodded earnestly. "Yes, but the bandages are not keeping him together. I'm afraid he needs stitches."
"It is rather a large incision," Sybil replied, trying to retie the small sash Sybbie had wrapped around the teddy. "There, that's better. Why don't we leave him to rest now and complete the procedure in the morning."
Sybbie frowned. "If you say so, nurse, but—"
"No buts, Dr. Branson, it's past your bedtime," Tom cut in.
Sybbie frowned.
"I think daddy's right, doctor."
"Daddies are not allowed in the operating theater!"
Sybil laughed and moved to stand up, pulling Sybbie and teddy up with her. "Let's go see to our patient."
Tom smiled as he watched them go. Life was pretty perfect, tomorrow's news would only make it more so.
—
Christmas Eve, a brief while later
"Really?"
Dr. Weston smiled brightly. "My congratulations to you, Nurse Branson."
Sybil thought she might cry.
"I suppose this will be a very happy Christmas," Dr. Weston said. "Why don't you go enjoy it with your family."
"Happy Christmas, Dr. Weston," Sybil said, shaking his hand and then taking her leave.
She could have skipped all the way home.