Disclaimer – I don't own Downton Abbey, the Crimson Field or Foyle's War but the Original Characters (of which there are too many to mention) are my creations.

Summary – Sequel to 'There's A Long, Long Trail' following Thomas, Edward and all of the others through the course of the Second World War.

A/N Title taken from a popular song of the era which.

~ I'll Be Seeing You ~

Prologue

September 1939

"This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final note stating that, unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us."

Listening to the Prime Ministers broadcast fifty-one-year-old Thomas Barrow felt the cold sensation of dread growing within his stomach, his arm tightening about his eleven-year-old namesake who was snuggled into his left side. On his other side, their thighs pressed tightly together, sat his partner of twenty-two years; forty-seven-year-old Edward Courtenay. He too had his eleven-year-old namesake snuggled against his side, the younger twin trembling almost violently as he listened to the words being broadcast to the nation with wide eyes.

Their hands moved of their own accord, each of them instinctively knowing where the other would be despite their individual sight impairments, until their fingers were linked together.

"I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany."

"Oh My God…" Sybil Branson, the forty-four-year-old mistress of the charming 1930s semi-detached house they were all gathered inside the front room of, gasped loudly. "Not again."

She was sat with her youngest daughter, fourteen-year-old Eilis and her eldest son, sixteen-year-old Bobby in the window seat, her arms wrapped tightly around the two children who had taken after their father in terms of their looks; light brown hair, blue eyes and fair skin.

"You can imagine what a bitter blow it is to me that all my long struggle to win peace has failed. Yet I cannot believe that there is anything more or anything different that I could have done and that would have been more successful."

"So that's it then," her husband, the forty-five-year-old journalist and former chauffeur sighed, bracing his hands on the mantelpiece as he hung his head between his arms. "War."

Aoife, the eldest of the six Branson siblings at twenty, moved across the room to place her hand comfortingly on her beloved fathers shoulder, squeezing it gently. Her appearance was a true blend of her parents whilst nineteen-year-old Violet, perched on the footstool beside the large wireless set, was the spitting image of her mother right down to her gravelly voice.

"Up to the very last it would have been quite possible to have arranged a peaceful and honourable settlement between Germany and Poland, but Hitler would not have it. He had evidently made up his mind to attack Poland whatever happened, and although he now says he put forward reasonable proposals which were rejected by the Poles, that is not a true statement. The proposals were never shown to the Poles, nor to us, and, although they were announced in a German broadcast on Thursday night, Hitler did not wait to hear comments on them, but ordered his troops to cross the Polish frontier."

"Uncle Thomas?"

Turning his head so that his one good eye could meet the wide blue orbs of the boy now clutching at his jackets he offered Tommy what he hope was a reassuring smile, releasing his hold of Edwards hand so that he could push a lock of brown hair off of Tommy's forehead.

He loved all of the Branson children equally, more than he had ever expected he would, but he had to admit to having a special fondness for the twins; he and Edward had helped bring them into the world on the kitchen floor of this very house after Sybil had gone into early labour during a snowstorm so horrific that the ambulances couldn't run whilst home alone.

"Will you have to fight in this war like you did in the last one?"

His soft question, accompanied by a series of soft clicking sounds as he fiddled with Thomas' prosthetic hand, a habit he'd had since he was a baby, earned a multitude of reactions; Tom let out a pained sound at the mention of anyone having to fight in this war, Edward sucked in a sharp gasp of air as his now free hand moved to clench hold of Thomas' knee, Eddy let out a soft whimper as he was squeezed even tighter to Edwards side by the blind man and Sybil let out a whimper of her own as she clutched her children to her, tears in her eyes.

"His action shows convincingly that there is no chance of expecting that this man will ever give up his practice of using force to gain his will. He can only be stopped by force."

"No," Thomas finally responded, his own eyes damp. "No, it won't be me fighting this time."

It'll be you, he thought, knowing full well that every other adult in the room was having exactly the same thoughts that he was, if this war goes on long enough it will be all of you.

"We and France are today, in fulfilment of our obligations, going to the aid of Poland, who is so bravely resisting this wicked and unprovoked attack on her people. We have a clear conscience. We have done all that any country could do to establish peace. The situation in which no word given by Germany's ruler could be trusted and no people or country could feel themselves safe has become intolerable. And now that we have resolved to finish it, I know that you will all play your part with calmness and courage. At such a moment as this the assurances of support that we have received from the Empire are a source of profound encouragement to us. The Government have made plans under which it will be possible to carry on the work of the nation in the days of stress and strain that may be ahead."

Unlike some men and women of their generation the four of them had never kept secrets from the children, answering their questions when they'd asked them. Admittedly most of them had been directed at Thomas and Edward when each of them had grown old enough to realise that something must have happened to them to leave them with their many scars.

Thus the Branson children, even Tommy and Eddie, knew all about the true horrors of war.

"But these plans need your help. You may be taking your part in the fighting services or as a volunteer in one of the branches of Civil Defence. If so you will report for duty in accordance with the instructions you have received."

"Sybil, I don't want you and the children here when things start heating up," Tom uttered, turning to face his wife with such a serious expression on his face that Thomas feared the vein on the side of his forehead might actually pop. His children let out small sounds of protest, particularly the twins. "I know you'll want to be here in the thick of it but I can't…"

"No, I agree," Sybil surprised them all given that she had never given anything up without a fight for the past twenty-odd years. "I'll give Mama a ring once the broadcast is over so that we can begin making arrangements for us to join them at Downton. Nursing experience will be needed everywhere, not just here in London, so my skills shan't be going to waste. And perhaps, once we've seen how things are going to be we shall be able to return to London."

"You may be engaged in work essential to the prosecution of war for the maintenance of the life of the people - in factories, in transport, in public utility concerns, or in the supply of other necessaries of life. If so, it is of vital importance that you should carry on with your jobs."

"I don't want to run and hide in the country," Aoife announced firmly, squaring off against her parents. "I've been thinking, ever since the rumours about this war started up, that I'd like to my bit and now that it is here I am determined to do so. I don't know what I shall do, exactly, but I do know that it won't include me leaving London any time in the near future."

Thomas chuckled, drawing the families attention across to him as he explain,

"You sound just like your mother did when they tried to stop her from working as a nurse."

Aoife smiled over at him, taking it as the compliment he had meant it to be.

"Thank you, Uncle Thomas."

"I suppose we didn't stand a chance," Tom chuckled sadly, glancing across at his wife who shook her head, offering him a wry smile. "It doesn't matter which one of us you children take after, does it? Neither of us have ever comforted to the traditional rules of society or even common sense. Very well, Aoife; you're almost twenty-one, that means you're old enough to make your own well-informed decisions. We won't force you to leave London."

"I can't leave London either," Violet pointed out, her tone firm but not petulant or rude. She was simply stating a fact. "We've begun making uniforms at the factory. That means I'm one of those people the PM just referred to; engaged in work essential to the prosecution of war. We'll lose all the men in the factory soon enough so they'll need us more than ever."

The fact that Violet had found work as a seamstress in a clothing factory once she'd finished at the Girls Grammar School rather than going on the Ladies College as her older sister had done was still something of a sore spot with her family. Tom thought she deserved better whilst Sybil worried that she had chosen the job so as to purposefully distance herself from the privileged side of the family and would one day come to regret it. Aoife, with her qualifications from the Ladies College, had just recently begun working as a journalist at her Aunt Edith's successful magazine, following in her fathers footsteps although rather than searching out important stories she was happy to be assigned the endless society functions.

"Now may God bless you all. May He defend the right. It is the evil things that we shall be fighting against - brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution - and against them I am certain that the right will prevail."

"Uncle Edward?" Eddie spoke up, drawing everyone's attention to him as he shifted so that he was sitting upright rather than snuggling into the blind man's side as he had been up to then. Edward hummed softly, encouraging him to continue as he placed his hand on the boys trembling back. "Will you and Uncle Thomas be coming to Granny and Donks with us?"

"No, Eddie, Uncle Thomas and I will be staying here…"

"At least for the time being," Thomas interjected. "They might decide that visually impaired people such as ourselves would be better off out of the cities, depending on what happens."

"…and even if we are to leave London we wouldn't want to impose on your grandparents."

Oh, Sybil could probably talk her parents round to the idea of housing them for the duration of the war but they'd have to keep up the pretence of Master/Servant all the time whereas in London they only had to keep the act up when they were in public; when they were at home or here with the Branson's they were free to be as affectionate as they wanted to be.

No.

He couldn't do that himself and he couldn't do that to Edward.

"But you will come and visit us, won't you?"

"Of course," Edward hurried to reassure his namesake, pulling him back into his side, the eleven-year-old boy clutching at his shirt with both hands. "As soon as you're settled in."

Thomas ran his hand over his face, feeling the need for a cigarette but unwilling to smoke with Tommy curled up to him.

He was afraid.

The Great War had taken so much, not only from him but from all that it had touched.

What would this new war do to those he loved?

A/N So…that happened. I couldn't stop thinking about the world I'd created for them and my evil brain started planning out this story and that I could write some of my other stuff before I got this out and…voila! Looks like I will be expanding on the Appendices after all. X