This is my Secret Santa fic for 0madlen0. I hope you like it. Also, there's a little section that everyone will know what inspired it. Merry Christmas, Happy Holiday, and Happy New Year!

P.S. I have a little reference to another British TV series in here. It's very minor, but I'm curious to see if anyone catches it.

Christmas Eve 1918

Everyone within the confines of Downton Abbey was looking forward to the Christmas party. The decision to hold the party had been last minute, at least for the Earl and Countess of Grantham. Edith and Sybil, the only two members of the family who interacted with the wounded officers staying at the convalescent home, had noted that the remaining officers were excited for Christmas. With the war finally over, there was now a freedom to celebrate. It was while having tea with Isobel that Edith expressed a desire to hold a Christmas party for the officers. After discussing it with Dr. Clarkson and Sergeant Barrow, Isobel encouraged Edith to tell her mother about the idea. Enlisting the help of Sybil, the two youngest ladies of the house convinced their mother of the need and appropriateness of holding a Christmas party that year. It was Edith who threw in the idea of including the servants in the festivities, pointing out the extra work they took on when Downton became a convalescent home. Their mother acquiesced shortly thereafter. The young women left the task of convincing their father to her. It took a few days, but after mentioning how it would lift the morale of the brave men staying under their roof, Cora got Robert to agree to the party.

On Christmas Eve morning, snow began to gently fall and would continue to do so for the rest of the day on into the night. The Dowager Countess called to notify the family she would be staying home, using the snow as an excuse to skip the party. With Isobel Crawley and Lavinia Swire arriving with Dr. Clarkson, Tom didn't need to pick any one up. Nor would he have to worry about leaving the party earlier or later than he wanted. It also afforded him time to get ready instead of scrambling to change into his suit.

Tom spent so much time getting ready. He wanted to look his best for Sybil. He had carefully ironed his best suit – his dark grey trousers with matching waistcoat, his best white shirt, and his black suit jacket – wanting to look as presentable as possible. He was going up against men who would be in officers uniforms, who could offer her more than he could ever hope to. Tom even woke up early that day before to shine his best black boots. He took a long bath, wanting to be as clean as possible and scrubbing his hands, hoping to get all of the oil out from under his fingernails. He carefully shaved and applied some aftershave. He had fussed with his black tie for half an hour, feeling as though it was choking him when in fact it was his nerves. He would get the chance, and more likely only one chance, to dance with Sybil tonight. He desperately wanted to make the best impression on her.

Unbeknownst to Tom, Sybil had also spent a great deal of time readying for the party. She had never been one to spend long amounts of time fretting over what to wear, how to wear her hair, and what jewelry would best compliment her outfit, even when she was a young and naïve girl proclaiming how thrilling it was to get a new frock. However, on this Christmas Eve, Sybil put an inordinate amount of thought into her outfit. She had quickly narrowed down her dress options to two: her black silk, sleeveless, mid-calf length dress with gold roses and her ankle-length dress with the black bodice and white skirt with black lace overlay. She decided on the former, as it was her favorite and was paid for by her Grandmama Martha as a gift for her twentieth birthday in June 1916. It was one that she had picked out for herself without her mother's input. What she refused to acknowledge was that she knew that Tom loved it when she wore this dress, having told her it was more her than her harem pants.

Once she had chosen her dress, Sybil spent an hour trying to choose the best jewelry to wear with the outfit. She chose her long black beaded necklace and her onyx and diamond drop earrings, again personal favorites. Her mother hadn't been thrilled with her dress decision, Cora not approving of the rising of dress hems. She had tried to convince her to wear one of her 'more demure dresses'. However, Sybil, knowing that her mother was trying to fix her up with one of the officers, had stood her ground. After dabbing on some of her perfume, Caron's N'Aimez Que Moi, she took a final look at her appearance, then left her room.

As soon as she entered the Main Hall, Sybil walked around the room and said hello to the officers and her fellow nurses. Soon, she had made her way to the Christmas tree. Taking in the tree, her mind began to drift both to her past and to her future. Sybil remembered Christmas when she was a little girl and all of the fun she had with her family as they opened gifts. Yet, she also remembered the stiff formality of the holiday and being banished to the nursery until she was old enough to behave (basically, not to speak) during dinner. As she thought of those Christmases, Sybil's mind went to the Irishman who had simply promised to devote every waking minute to her happiness. What would a Christmas in Ireland with Tom be like? As she asked herself this question, one of the officers came up to Sybil and greeted her. Turning, she smiled at the man and wished him a Happy Christmas. Though she liked the man, a Captain Edward Bailey, Sybil sensed his interest in her was more romantic in nature, and she did her best to discreetly discourage him. However, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her mother watching them and started to suspect her interference. Sybil decided to make small talk and try to end the conversation as soon as she politely could. While she would admit that Edward was a nice man and very good looking, a little over six feet tall with dark brown hair and light blue eyes, she didn't see him as a man that she could spend the rest of her life with. That might be because your heart already belongs to someone else.

As soon as he entered the ballroom, Tom's eyes instinctively sought out Sybil. He saw her standing by the Christmas tree, talking to Captain Bailey. She was wearing her black dress silk with the gold roses, a gift from her American grandmother to celebrate her 20th birthday back in June 1916. Before she became a nurse. Before his proposal and all of his declarations of love. Tom turned away and walked towards the side of the Hall where Anna and Bates had congregated.

Soon the Hall was filled with officers, nurses, doctors, and servants, as well as the Crawleys. After greeting everyone, Lord and Lady Grantham led a rousing set of carols, including "Deck the Halls," "Silent Night," "The First Noel," and "Good King Wenceslas." Once they were done singing, Lord Grantham announced that a gramophone would be set up to play a mixture of Christmas music, as well as popular songs for anyone who wanted to dance. Moreover, various games would be set up in both the drawing room and the library for those who did not wish to dance.

As part of the semi-relaxed atmosphere of the party, Lord Grantham decided that excerpts from Dickens' A Christmas Carol would be read. It had been difficult to get enough people willing to read though. A majority of the men still at the convalescent home were injured in the final battles of the war and were still in the early stages of recovery. Though excited for the Christmas party, most hadn't come to terms with their injuries and less than a handful of men volunteered to read. In the end, Robert, suffering from a severe cold, asked Branson to read an excerpt, knowing the Irishman liked Dickens' work. Tom accepted, immediately knowing which passage he would read, as it reminded him of his childhood Christmases back in Ireland. The first reader was Captain Bailey, followed by Dr. Clarkson, Isobel Crawley, and Lady Mary. When it was Tom's turn, His Lordship announced him, and he went up to the front. Remembering reading the story out loud with his father as a child, Tom took a deep breath and began.

"There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn't ate it all at that! Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular, were steeped in sage and onions up to the eyebrows! But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone—too nervous to bear witnesses—to take the pudding up and bring it in.

Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back-yard, and stolen it, while they were merry with the goose—a supposition at which the two young Cratchits became livid! All sorts of horrors were supposed.

Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastry cook's next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to that! That was the pudding! In half a minute, Mrs. Cratchit entered—flushed, but smiling proudly—with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of lighted brandy, and decorated with Christmas holly stuck into the top.

Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding for a large family. It would have been really wicked to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing.

At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The hot stuff in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew around the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass. Two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle.

These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire spluttered and cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed:

"A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!"

Which all the family re-echoed.

"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all."

He read the passage as though he was remembering his childhood Christmases. As she watched and listened to Tom, Sybil was briefly transported back to a conversation that the two of them had shortly before his first Christmas at Downton in December 1913.

"Branson, are you looking forward to Christmas this year?"

"Yes and no, milady."

"Why?"

"While I do love the Christmas season, this will be the first Christmas I do not spend with my family. My former employer, Mrs. Persse, spent the holiday with her family in Galway. I would forgo my half days off in November and December in exchange for getting Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off."

"I'm sorry, Branson. I should have realized that you would miss your family."

"It's alright, Lady Sybil."

"Can you tell me about how you celebrated with your family?"

He gave one of his little half smiles and began to speak. "Christmas Eve was usually a light meal of cod and vegetables. After dinner, we would rest for a bit before we went to Midnight Mass. My older brothers, Daniel and Kieran, as well as myself were all altar boys and we each served during Midnight Mass at one time or another. When I was really young, my three older sisters were in charge of me as we walked to church. I'm much younger than my siblings. Kathleen is six years older than me and Mary and Margaret are eight years older than me. Kieran was eleven when I was born and Danny was nearly thirteen. My parents saved all year to make sure we had a goose on Christmas Day, as well as a few gifts. As we were a family of eight, it was chaotic when we opened our gifts. After I learned to read, I always received one book. We might not have had much, but we had each other. That was enough."

"That sounds quite lovely, Branson." Sybil paused, then asked, "Does your family have any traditions?"

He nodded. "We do. My dad and myself would read A Christmas Carol to the family. I've been the sole reader since he passed away."

Sybil came out of her memory just as Tom finished reading. There were several other readers after him, but Sybil didn't really pay attention. She was looking forward to the dancing, or rather, to dancing with Tom. Though she knew she could only dance with him once or twice, it was all Sybil could think about. Before she knew it, the reading of A Christmas Carol was coming to an end, with Captain Darling saying, "And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!"

Everyone applauded and cheered. While Thomas and Anna set up the gramophone, the party goers went to get refreshments. After twenty minutes of eating and drinking, the music began to play. Several standard songs were played and Sybil partnered up with several of the officers. Eventually, Thomas and Anna began to play some popular songs. As she heard the first notes of the song, Sybil instantly knew what the song was. Looking up, she saw Tom in front of her.

"May I have this dance, milady?"

Smiling, she answered, "Yes, Branson."

He took her hand and guided her onto the dance floor just as John McCormack's magnificent voice filled the air.

Dear face that holds so sweet a smile for me,

Were you not mine, how dark the world would be!

"You look lovely tonight."

"Thank you."

I know no light above that could replace

Love's radiant sunshine in your dear, dear face.

She looked up at him and said, "You look handsome as well."

He smiled, with a slight blush coming to his cheeks.

Give me your smile, the love-light in your eyes,

Life could not hold a fairer Paradise!

Give me the right to love you all the while,

My world for ever, the sunshine of your smile!

For Tom, this was simultaneously the happiest and the saddest moment of his year. He was holding Sybil in his arms and she was smiling at him. They fit perfectly together, dancing effortlessly. As though they should always be in each other's arms. Yet, he knew that it would only last for a few precious minutes. He decided to just enjoy this time and hope that Sybil would finally (finally) make a decision soon.

Shadows may fall upon the land and sea,

Sunshine from all the world may hidden be;

Sybil also felt the bittersweet nature of their dance. Being held in Tom's arms felt like coming home – safe, warm, and loved. They fit so well together, like pieces of a puzzle. She didn't want the dance to end.

But I shall see no cloud across the sun;

Your smile shall light my life, till life is done!

They danced in silence for the remainder of the song, their own thoughts occupying them. Then the song was over and they reluctantly stepped away from each other. Realizing she had missed an opportunity to talk to Tom, Sybil asked him if he was as thirsty as she was and together they walked to the refreshment table. As they sipped their punch, the two talked about current events. Sybil wanted to know who Tom thought would win the recent General Election. While he wasn't sure who would win overall, he expressed his hope that Sinn Fein would win a majority of the Irish seats. They continued talking easily to one another for a bit before Captain Bailey walked up, and without excusing himself, asked Sybil to dance.

The look on Tom's face when Captain Bailey interrupted their conversation was devastating to Sybil. It was the same look he had on his face when he proposed in York and she had inadvertently laughed at him (Please don't make fun of me. It's cost me all I've got to say these things.). She knew she had no choice but to accept, especially as she saw her mother watching intently. Dancing with Captain Bailey wasn't the problem. It was seeing the look on Tom's face, followed by the barely perceptible shift into the perfect servant. He nodded at Sybil, and she was swept onto the dance floor by the captain. Tom stood there watching for a bit, feeling angry, jealous, sad, and unworthy. Once the waltz ended, a foxtrot was played and the captain insisted on dancing with Sybil again. Tired, homesick, and just plain miserable, Tom quietly left the party, returning to his cottage as quickly as possible.

Sybil did her best to make small talk with Captain Bailey though she was annoyed with him interrupting her conversation with Tom. After they finished their second dance, she mentioned being a bit hungry. She started to approach the refreshment table, when he stopped her and told her he would get them both some food. Though Sybil was never one to have someone pick her food for her, she decided to let it go, if only to have a few minutes with her thoughts.

As she sat and waited, her mind returned to Tom reading the excerpt from A Christmas Carol earlier. As his words and voice filled her head, a beautiful image came to her. It was Christmas and Tom was in his own home reading that same section. On his lap was a smaller version of Tom. Right next to them was a little girl with Sybil's hair and mouth and Tom's eyes, giving one of Tom's half smiles. She felt her heart burst with joy at the image. Realizing what had made her happy, she tried to picture a different future. One without Tom and without those children she saw. It wasn't that hard to do. It was the future expected of her. Married to an aristocrat and managing their home. Or if she refused to marry, alone in a house in Eaton Square. Neither felt like home to her the way that image of Tom and their children did. In that moment, she knew her answer and she was ready to tell him.

Unfortunately, that was the moment Captain Bailey returned to where she was sitting. She accepted the biscuits and punch, trying to figure out how to get away to see Tom. Eventually, having finished her food and drink, Sybil decided to nip the captain's infatuation with her in the bud.

"Captain Bailey,-"

Interrupting, he said, "You can call me Edward."

Taking a breath, she said, "Fine, Edward. I think you're a nice man, but I have a feeling that your feelings for me run deeper than the typical nurse-patient relationship."

He smiled. "They do, Lady Sybil." He placed his punch on the table, then continued. "I think you are a beautiful woman and I've admired you since I arrived here in October. Together we would make a formidable pair. I do admit that I wasn't sure if you shared your feelings, but your mother did say that you had mentioned me once or twice."

Finally having a clear picture of the situation, Sybil knew what to say. "I'm sorry about the misunderstanding. My mother means well, but she has three daughters and she wants us all to marry. I've never shown an interest in anyone, at least not in front of my mother. I mentioned one evening that I thought you were a nice man, and my mother drew her own conclusions. While I do feel complimented by your interest, the future I plan for myself is very different from the one my mother and yourself see."

His sadness that his feelings weren't reciprocated was evident. "Have you told your parents that yet?"

"Not yet, but I will. Right now, while I am still needed at the hospital and the convalescent home, there's nothing to tell." She paused. "I am truly sorry though. You are a nice man Edward, but I think you deserve someone that will love you for you."

He nodded and bade her a goodnight. Deciding she would deal with her mother after Christmas, Sybil walked about the hall for a bit, before discreetly making her way to the chauffeur's cottage.

Back in his cottage, Tom was wondering why he was still in England. He knew why, but tonight, it felt like his dream of marrying Sybil and loving her openly and freely was farther away than ever. He missed his family so much. Christmastime was not the same and it hadn't been since he Sarrived in England.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He went to the door expecting to be told that someone needed to be driven somewhere. Upon opening the door, Tom was surprised to see Sybil on his doorstep.

"May I come in?" she asked.

He nodded, caught off guard by her appearance at his door. Sybil, bursting with excitement, practically danced into Tom's home. He noticed her enthusiasm and wondered what could have gotten into her. Shutting the door, he turned to her.

Sybil beamed at him and couldn't hold it in anymore. "I want to marry you."

Completely stunned, Tom replied, "What?"

"I love you, Tom. So very, very much. I've known that I loved and love you for a long time, and I'm sorry that I'm only telling you now."

Wide-eyed, Tom softly asked, "Why did you take so long? What's changed, Sybil?"

She smiled, tears pooling in her eyes. "If I told you before I knew I could leave this life behind and then told you I couldn't do it, it would have hurt you. More than I already have."

"Syb-"

"No," she interrupted, "don't say I never hurt you. We both know that I did." She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts together. "I was sitting inside and I thought back to your reading earlier. I suddenly pictured you reading to a little boy and a little girl. Our son and daughter. I then tried to picture a future without you in it. It was cold and lonely, either married to a man who only cared if I gave him a son or all alone in Eaton Square. I don't want either of those futures. I want the one with you in it and those children I saw in my head."

Tom was speechless. It was a reversal of their roles. Sybil making the grand pronouncements of love while Tom stood there unsure of what to say. Finally, his brain caught up with his ears and he grinned.

Sybil giggled as she walked up to him. He leaned in to kiss her, but hesitated for a moment, both out of habit and a fear that this was a dream.

Seeing his hesitation, she said, "Yes, you can kiss me, but that is all until everything is settled."

"For now, God knows, it's enough that I can kiss you."

With those words, he cupped her face and they finally kissed. As he wrapped his arm around her, deepening the kiss, she, in turn, wrapped her arms around his shoulders. It was everything they both had dreamt and hoped for, yet so much more. After several minutes, Tom broke off the kiss.

Fully wrapping Sybil in his arms, he asked, "What did they look like?"

"Who?"

Smiling, he answered, "Our children?"

Blushing, she answered, "Our son looked like a smaller version of you. Our daughter had my hair and mouth with your eyes and smile."

He nodded and said, "Then we'll need to have three. One of our children needs to have your beautiful eyes."

With tears in her eyes, Sybil stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "We'll discuss the details later. Right now, I just want you to hold me."

Exactly Six Years Later

Dublin, Ireland

Annie Branson finished drying the dishes in her youngest son's kitchen. She wiped her hands on a towel and walked into the living room. The sight that greeted her made her smile. Her eldest Daniel, his wife Maureen, and her daughter Kathleen were sitting on the sofa, while Kathleen's husband Joe sat on the arm of the sofa next to his wife. The couples' nine children were on the floor, sitting and lying in various positions. Kieran, still single, was visiting from Liverpool and was sitting on a chair next to Margaret, who was now known as Sr. Theresa Xavier. Next to Margaret was her twin, Mary and Mary's husband Connor. Their five year old was on Connor's lap.

What really made her smile was who was at the center of attention, her youngest son, Tommy, sitting on the love seat. Next to him was his eldest child, four year old Úna, a lovely combination of both of her parents, with her mother's dark brown curly hair and mouth, with her father's eyes and half smile. Sitting on his lap, was his second child, Michael, who at two could be best described as a miniature version of his father, sucking his thumb. Tom's voice rang out clearly as he read Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol.

"The door of Scrooge's counting-house was open that he might keep his eye upon his clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank, was copying letters. Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room; and so surely as the clerk came in with the shovel, the master predicted that it would be necessary for them to part. Wherefore the clerk put on his white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which effort, not being a man of a strong imagination, he failed."

A cry sounded out just then. Everyone turned as Sybil walked out from the bedroom, rubbing the back of the newest Branson, four month old Rory. Kieran rose from his seat and offered it to his sister-in-law, who gratefully accepted it. Once he let out a hearty burp, Sybil turned the baby around to face everyone else, his grey-blue eyes taking in the lights on the Christmas tree.

Tom smiled at his wife and youngest child, memories from that Christmas Eve five years ago flashing in his mind. Sybil looked directly at him, knowing what he was thinking about because she was thinking about it as well. Looking at each other, they beamed and mouthed 'I love you' to each other.

Author's Note: I know I give a vague description of Captain Bailey in the story. If you need help imagining him, I used Rupert Friend as my inspiration. The source for the text to A Christmas Carol can be found on my author page, as well as in the tumblr post for this story. There are some minor alterations to match the version Allen Leech read at the Mulberry Window.