Time to Cry
"Sybil, cousin Isobel asked if you could…"
"I'm busy, Mary," Sybil said flatly, cutting off her sisters words, as she walked out of the front door of the grand house, keeping her eyes locked on the ground in front of her feet. She didn't slow her pace at all, desperate not to have to speak to her eldest sister. With Downton being used as a convalescent home for injured men, home had become work for Sybil. She had immersed herself in the duties of a nurse, helping wherever and whenever she could, often skipping lunch as there was too much to do, and beginning to feel a sense a purpose in her life. She loved it, but it was hard work with little rest. And at times, it was too much.
She listened to the crunch of the gravel under her feet, watching as her shoes emerged and were subsequently hidden by her long grey uniform with each step. She was letting her body take her where it wanted to go, not even really paying attention to her surroundings. She stared at the ground, trying to will the tears away. She didn't want to cry. She had too much work to do to allow herself the time to cry. Yet sometime her body refused to obey her brain. Sometimes, to keep herself sane, she had to allow her body to take over.
She found herself in the garage, where she had often sought solace in the words of the family's chauffeur. Upon hearing footsteps on the hard stone floor near the entrance of the garage, Tom looked up from the newspaper he was reading. Sybil looked at him and her barriers fell. She brought her hands to her face and sobbed into her hands, her shoulders coming forward as she shook where she stood. Tom carelessly put his newspaper down on the side, precariously balanced on top of tools and pots of oil and polish. He walked over to Sybil kindly and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She immediately leant into his familiar hold and allowed herself to weep onto his waistcoat and shirt. "Shh, shh," Tom hushed, gently tracing small circles on her back with the palm of his hand. "What's up? What's happened?" He waited whilst Sybil continued to sob, barely able to snatch a breath. When she felt stable enough she pushed away from Tom slightly and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself gently, still allowing Tom to hold her by her waist, as a few more convulsive cries escaped her lips.
"I can't do this anymore," she sniffed, looking down between the two of them.
"Can't do what?"
"This!" Sybil said, gesturing to the grey uniform and white apron she wore as a sign of her position in the war. "I can't deal with the war anymore. I can't nurse these men!" Tom frowned in sympathy. Of course she could nurse these men. The war couldn't go on forever – she could surely make it to the end? She was one of the strongest women Tom had ever met – possibly the strongest, aside from his own mother. He knew she could manage this. She just needed some self-belief.
"Of course you can," Tom said tenderly. "Look, why don't you come and sit down; talk about it for a while," he said, gesturing to the old and uneven bench near the work surface at the side of the rectangular garage. "What harm could it do?" Sybil nodded without saying anything, and Tom led her over to the bench, never taking his arm off her waist. They sat side by side, both turning slightly to face each other, knees almost touching.
"I can't do it Tom," she said, looking into her hands sitting in her lap.
"Yes, you can," Tom reassured. "Sybil, you're one of the best nurses I know. Nobody working in the house has a bad thing to say about you. You're a competent nurse and it would be a loss to the other staff and a loss to the men who need you if you were to leave now."
"Would it really be so bad?" Sybil asked, determined that her contribution to the house meant almost nothing.
"Sybil, Doctor Clarkson would have a fit if you decided to quit nursing. This is what you've wanted for so long. There'll always be bad times, but surely the good things outweigh the bad? Think of all the men who are alive now with some hope because of you. Without you, there'd be less living people on this planet." Sybil sniffed, but looked up at Tom with a sideways glance.
"I haven't made that much of a difference," she said, modest as ever, despite the small smile threatening to creep onto her lips.
"Sybil, you've given men life. That's a huge difference. You've been there for them when they needed some medical attention, and you've been there for them when they just needed someone to talk to or needed someone to write a letter home. Without you, Downton would hardly work as a convalescent home. You work more than any of those nurses. You care more than most of them. You said yourself that you've felt useful for the first time in your life since training to be a nurse. And if you pack up and leave now, what will you do? Walk around the gardens and go to dress fittings, knowing the whole time that when you walk through the front door of your own house you'll be faced with rooms full of injured men, many of whom will never be able to fight again – never be able to walk, never be able to see. They're lost in an unfriendly world, but a friendly face means so much to them. You're around them more than the other nurses are, so they know you. They respect you. Most of them love having you about. They miss you when you get a day off," Tom explained.
"Really?" Sybil asked, raising an eyebrow. "None of them have ever told me that before."
"Of course they haven't. You're so run off your feet every hour of every day that you hardly get a second to breathe, let alone have a nice friendly chat with them."
"I suppose," Sybil said, a smile now clearly showing on her lips.
"Don't you dare quit. You're far too valued. By everyone in that house. Including me." Sybil frowned at Tom's words.
"I don't have to be a nurse to come and visit you, you know."
"I didn't mean that. I know full well that no matter what you're doing, you'll find a way to come and visit me. What I meant was, well… you're an even nicer person now that you've found a purpose. You've really grown with the responsibility of nursing and it suits you. I think it'd be weird if you stopped now. It would almost seem as if you'd lost a limb."
"Don't joke about that," Sybil said, her tone slightly more serious than it had been previously. "Endless men in that house have fewer limbs than they ought to have. They all deserve to be able to walk. They all deserve to be able to think straight and understand what's going on around them, but so many of them will never be able to again. It's depressing. It really is."
"It would be more depressing if they didn't have your voice to listen to every day," Tom said, bumping his shoulder with hers.
"Oh, alright, alright!" Sybil said, tears all gone and a laugh now in her throat. "I'll stick with it!"
"Promise?"
"Promise," she said with a slight sigh.
"Nurse Crawley!" someone called from outside. She wasn't sure who it was, but she stood quickly and took a step away from Tom. No matter whose guidelines she was going by – her parents' or Doctor Clarkson's – slacking off to chat with the family chauffeur was flouting the rules. Tom also stood. She smiled at Tom before turning her head to see who had come to find her. It was one of the new volunteer nurses. "Nurse Crawley, Doctor Clarkson says you're needed back inside at once," the nurse said, rallying the information from her superior.
"Thank you, Harriet. I'll be right there," Sybil replied, utterly calmly. Harriet, the young nurse, walked away, looking proud that she'd successfully carried out her duty. She'd only been based at Downton for a week and was still trying to find her feet. Sybil turned back to Tom. "I ought to go," she said with a sad smile. Tom bowed his head slightly in a nod.
"Am I right in thinking that I'm taking you and your sisters to visit your grandmother this evening for supper?" he asked, suddenly rather formal.
"Yes, but I'm not sure what time. I'll find out and come and tell you before tea time if I can."
"Very good, Milady," Tom said with a smirking sarcastic smile. Sybil rolled her eyes as she turned to go, but was stopped by Tom's words. "Enjoy it, Sybil. I mean it – enjoy your work. You're lucky to be in the position you're in." Sybil nodded with a slightly sad smile.
"I'll do my best." And with that, Sybil was gone from Tom's sight. He got back to reading newspapers and fixing cars, and she got back to the job she loved and always would.
So, that was my August Rock the AU. This is the third one I tried to write, as the first two just didn't work. I hardly ever do period pieces, so this was a bit of a challenge for me, just knowing how to write it, and I know that Sybil and Tom wouldn't have hugged like that - not when they could have been caught and all sorts of terrible things could have happened, but let's just ignore that little discrepancy, shall we? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and please review if you did.