After two long years in the trenches, Corporal Thomas Barrow made the fateful decision to escape the horrors of the battlefield by welcoming an enemy shell. The bullet passed cleanly through his left hand, resulting in a considerable amount of blood and pain, but thankfully the injury got him out of the fighting. After being treated at a nearby field hospital, he was ordered to report to Major Clarkson back in Downton. He knew he owed this bit of good fortune to Miss O'Brien, although he didn't know how she had managed it. Upon arriving at the little cottage hospital, he was surprised to find Lady Sybil there working as an auxiliary nurse. She seemed genuinely happy to see him again and inquired after his hand. "It's not so bad, m'lady," he replied, not wishing to discuss it.

"I'm glad, but you must call me Nurse Crawley now, and I'll have to remember to call you Corporal Barrow."

Thomas smiled and gave her a little nod. He made his way around the beds filled with wounded officers, some badly burned or missing limbs. He had been instructed to change the dressings of a young lieutenant who was suffering from gas blindness. He spotted the man sitting up in his bed. "I need to change your bandages, sir," he spoke softly, not wishing to startle the sightless man.

The patient turned toward him quizzically. "I don't recognize your voice."

"I just came today, sir."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Corporal Barrow." Thomas deftly removed the rolls of gauze holding the bandages in place. A burn around the left eye seemed to be healing well with no sign of infection. "Everything looks good, sir."

The man laughed bitterly. "I'll have to take your word for it, Corporal."

Thomas finished applying the new dressings before taking his leave. He wished he could say something comforting to the young officer, but he knew that in all probability, Lieutenant Courtenay would never see again.

Over the next few days, he found himself drawn to the blind man's bedside. Sometimes he would read to him from the newspaper or letters from home, and at other times, they simply talked. The patient spoke about his days at Oxford and all the things he loved doing but would never do again. In turn, Thomas talked about working as a footman at the Abbey. It seemed like another world now. Occasionally, Sybil would join them, sharing stories of her life before the war.

As the weeks passed, Thomas noted the frequent visits from Tom Branson, Lord Grantham's Irish chauffeur. He would come bearing a message from Her Ladyship or a basket of food from Mrs. Patmore, but sometimes he seemed to be there for no reason at all. It soon became apparent that the driver was really there to see Sybil. That made him either very bold or very stupid in Thomas' eyes. If His Lordship had any inkling of it, he knew Branson would be immediately dismissed without a reference. He wondered if Sybil were aware of the chauffeur's feelings.

One day, she and Thomas were enjoying a break together. She suddenly remarked, "Lieutenant Courtenay seems to have really taken to you. I think you've been good for him."

Thomas was secretly pleased. He had become very fond of the injured officer.

"He asked me today what you look like."

"What did you tell him?"

She laughed prettily. "I told him you're short and fat and freckled, but he didn't believe me."

"I should hope not," Thomas said with fake indignation.

"So I told him you're tall, dark, and handsome."

"That's more like it." He casually changed the subject. "Will we be seeing Mr. Branson here today?"

The smile immediately left the young woman's face. "Why do you ask that?"

"He seems to come around a lot, that's all." Thomas tried to make his voice sound disinterested.

Sybil rose to leave. "I should get back to work now."

He knew he had overplayed his hand and made his way over to Lieutenant Courtenay's bedside. The officer had received a letter from home and was anxious to hear the news. "Would you mind terribly?"

"I'd be happy to, sir." Thomas opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. "It's from your mother." He read the note stating that someone named Jack intended to take over the farm.

"Stop."

"Who's Jack?"

The patient explained that he was a younger brother who planned to take his place. Thomas could see how much the news had upset him. He knew only too well the pain of being overlooked and tossed aside. He confided to the blind man that people had pushed him around all his life just because he was different.

"How? Why are you different?"

Thomas didn't elaborate. Instead, he encouraged the other man to fight back and stop being a victim. Lieutenant Courtenay's hand reached out for Thomas' knee, causing the Corporal to look up in surprise. Thomas placed his hand over the officer's and was gratified when he didn't pull away.

"I'm Edward, by the way."