A/N: I do not own Downton Abbey or any of its characters.

A/N II: I started writing this between season 3 and 4. It is multi chaptered and a work in slow progress. Chapter 1 stands alone though so I am finally publishing, mostly as a belated wedding gift for my sister, who has patiently read all my piecemeal scenes.

Season 4 has not influenced the story in any way although one plot in a later chapter mirrors a (minor) plot in season 4. I have not seen season 5 but will watch it as it airs in the U.S.

1921

Thomas wound the grandfather clock in the hallway. As under butler it was no longer his duty, but he found he enjoyed doing something soothing and familiar every day. He listened intently for the click when a very different faint sound came from deeper in the house.

He showed not confusion, but confidence as he slowly made his way towards what he thought was the source of the sound. As he did, the sound became louder, clearer, more insistent.

The cry of a child.

Curse Carson for giving the nanny the afternoon off!

Thomas turned around to make his way back to the servants' hall to find whichever one of the new maids agreed to keep an eye on the nursery. At the top of the main staircase he froze as the whimpering became a wail.

"The only thing we can do for Lady Sybil now is care for her child," Mrs. Hughes' words echoed in his mind.

Thomas didn't know much- anything- about babies. What if Miss Sybil was seriously hurt? He turned around. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, Lady Sybil Branson had been kind to him. And on those dark days after Lt. Courtenay's death, their shared grief had bonded them. Thomas had taken the blow much harder than Sybil. .

In losing Edward, Sybil had gotten through, and Thomas had cared for her. Not in the same way the chauffer did, but as a friend. But he had never gotten a chance to show his care for her, to thank her for her friendship during the war.

"The only thing we can do for Lady Sybil now is care for her child."

Thomas found himself in front of the nursery door. He softly knocked and waited for an answer like he would if he were knocking at Lord Grantham's door or any other door belonging to the family. The cries continued, and he realized how foolish he was. Of course a baby was not going to answer the door.

Thomas tentatively, slowly opened the door and peeked in. "Miss Branson?"

He didn't see her, but the baby's cries stopped.

An aristocrat at heart.

The child had stopped crying, so Thomas began to shut the door again. Then a terrible thought crossed his mind. He rushed into the nursery and peeked into the crib. The baby looked perfectly healthy, but he thought he'd better be sure.

Even though it had been nearly 3 years since the war, his first thought in checking a patient was to look for wounds. While Miss Sybil likely hadn't gotten hit by a grenade, it was possible she'd fallen or otherwise scraped herself.

Sybbie helpfully stood up and Thomas quickly assessed her arms, legs, head, back, and chest. No blood, no bruises. He looked at her eyes (Lady Sybil's no doubt, but her nose was a duplicate of the chauffer's), no dilation. He tentatively put two fingers next to her delicate neck and felt a regular pulse.

"You seem to be all right then," Thomas told Miss Sybil and turned to leave, intent on finding the maid immediately.

When he reached the door the wailing began again. Quickly he thought of what he might have missed. As far as Thomas knew, Miss Sybil did not have any prevailing ailments. She had gotten a cold once or twice in her young life that he remembered, and once had put her father in a complete panic over a high fever that persisted for a few days.

Then Thomas remembered Lt. Courtenay, as well as many other men he had seen in the hospital and at Downton during the war, and the unseen illness many of them had to fight. What he fought as well.

"Do you need a friend?" Sybbie stared at him, silent, leftover tears running down her cheeks.

"Well. Your mother was my friend, so I suppose I can be yours." Thomas straightened his uniform and stepped back into the room. Sybbie reached out and up at him. Thomas realized she wanted to be picked up and let out of her crib. Should be simple enough, he thought to himself. Thomas picked the girl up and set her on the floor.

She looked at up at him, a smile growing.

He looked down at her.

"Well, what do you do with your friends?" he asked her. "I suppose you don't want to have a smoke."

Sybbie giggled as if she understood him. Could she? Thomas wondered. Before he could ponder any further, Sybbie took off in an uneasy run to the other side of the nursery and plunked a toy off the shelf and ran just as fast back to Thomas.

"Ba!" She offered up the teddy bear to him.

"Why that's a lovely bear, Miss Bran-"

Sybbie had ran back to the shelf, grabbed a toy horse, and ran back to Thomas. "Na!" she offered the horse up to him as well, then immediately took off back to the shelf. This was repeated until the shelf was clear and Thomas' arms were full. "Not much of a conversationalist, are you?" he said. The train had been Da, a doll Koh, but another doll was La.

She looked at him expectantly. Thomas thought for a moment. What could he give back to her? He suspected these toys weren't really for him to keep, but Miss Sybil clearly expected something in return. Then he remembered he had snuck some sweets in his pocket earlier that morning. His new position kept him busier than before with less consistency, so he couldn't always catch a smoke break when he wanted to. He'd been going to the confectionary every week to pick up a few just for those moments when he needed something to tide him over.

With great flair, he knelt down to Sybbie, and gently put her toys down. He widened his eyes as much as he could. His audience was captivated, so he exclaimed, "What's this?!" with a gasp and pulled a sweet out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and gave it to Sybbie.

She squealed in delight and put it in her mouth immediately.

"It's a good thing I didn't give you something out of the other pocket," Thomas said, thinking of the packet of cigarettes.

The clock in the hallway struck four. Nanny would be back soon, surely, since the nursery dinner was served at five. Thomas placed "Ba" the bear (clearly Miss Sybil's favorite, a gift from Lady Mary if he remembered correctly) in the crib first, then gently picked up Miss Sybil again and placed her back in as well.

She seemed distracted by the bear and contented with her candy, so Thomas tentatively stepped away, then slowly made his way out of the nursery.