The Bransons

1: Arriving Home

It wasn't like Sybil to be frightened, at the bi-election she had been exhilerated, during the war she had been determined, and defying her father she had been sure of herself. Now, however, Sybil Crawley was frightened. Her stomach turned and her fingers shook as the train departed, pulling away from the station in Downton, her family's faces disappearing out of sight.

It would be hours before she would be able to see Tom in Dublin, for now she could only be comforted by the book on her lap. Cracking its spine and trying to settle back into the most recent chapter the train picked up speed, shaking slightly and jostling her about. Sybil shut the book and tossed it to the seat opposite her, uncrossing her ankles and shifting down in the seat she pressed her temple against the cold window. England was passing before her eyes, whipping by in blurred mixed earthtones, grasses and cottages thinning out until it was merely train tracks and vast swatches of land.

She wished she was leaning on Tom's shoulder. Yes, she was an independent woman, but she still wanted to hold his hand. Glancing down at her handbag she saw the pamphlets about the vote that Tom first gave her, she pulled them out and spread them across her lap. Fingering the fraying and bent edges of the faded pamphets she remembered their first official meeting.

"I couldn't help overhearing you yesterday, and from what her ladyship said it sounds as if you support women's rights," Sybil had stared at the back of his head, listening intently to his Irish brogue and ignoring the sound of the streets outside the old Renault.

"I suppose I do," she admitted, she leaned forwards.

"Because I'm quite political, in fact, I brought some pamphlets that I thought might interest you, about the vote." She remembred smiling at this.

She had kept the pamphlets as a comfort, even know as they sat weathered in her lap she heard Tom's words from so many years ago and took comfort. Sybil gripped them tighter and glaced towards the train car's door, closed tight and a velvety red curtain covering the small window. She smiled and picked up her feet, curling them underneath her and making herself more comfortable, letting her eyes drift closed she could see his face.

"I hope you do go into politics, it's a fine ambition," she had been honest as she said this to him, still sitting in the back of the Renault.

"Ambition or dream?" She remembered how he had glanced back at her, smiling earnestly at her. This image of him would be burned in her memory forever.

She looked down again in her hands, amongst the pamplets was a letter he had written to her before he left for Dublin. She had woken up that day, knowing he had caught the earliest train and expected to hear nothing until her arrival in Dublin nearly two weeks later. Anna had brought her the letter, addressed to her in the familiar hand of Tom Branson. He had detailed his love for her, reminded her to hold fast to her beliefs, explained that he was organizing the wedding bands so they could be married straight away. He signed "All my Love, Tom," and now as she sat on the train she touched these loops of ink and imagined him writing it.

"It's not all about women and the vote for me," he had admitted to her, despite her higher standing and the risk he was taking, "or even freedom for Ireland. It's the gap between the aristocracy and the poor, and the..."

"And what?" Sybil had encouraged.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to speak against his lordship..." Sybil knew where he was going, but wanted to hear him say it.

"Why not, you obviously don't approve of him,"

"Not as a representative of an oppressive class," he glanced back, "but he's a good man," she smiled, "and a decent employer,"

"Spoken like a true politician," she had said, and they had shared a laugh. Before the war, they had shared many moments like this.

The war, but even before the war, the social upheaval had been all but revolutionary. When she was injured, though it was Matthew who took her home, she knew it was Branson who had fought for her, protected her. It was at that moment, Sybil remembered fondly, when her father had threatened to fire him she knew she loved him. She fought for him right back, and she knew, absolutely, she wasn't in love with the chauffeur, she was in love with Tom. Her mind twisted and turned with the thoughts of the following weeks after her injury - Mary and Matthew's almost marriage, Mama's miscarriage, and Papa's announcement.

But even more than the war she recalled Tom's unfinished question, "I don't suppose...?"

What had he wanted to ask? But even as he had made this statement, she remembered the way their eyes had locked after her father announced the war, how hers had welled with tears and the thougt of Branson at war. Dying, at war.

Sybil thought of her upcoming life in Dublin, to be a wife, to be a nurse, to be a free woman. That was the thing she loved most about Tom, he did not just want to allow her freedom, he was there to push her forwards, try more, challenge her to do better. Nursing, though Isobel's idea, was validated by Tom through the conversations and exchange of simple letters over the course of her being away from Downton. Her eyes slipped closed again and she thought of the desperation in his voice that day, "Bet on me,"

She wanted to hit herself for replying the way she did. What word had she used? Flattered? She couldn't quite bear it, the difficulty she must have caused him. Even though she loved him there, on the spot, she couldn't take him - especially not with the war and her family's standing. She would be cast out and alone with Tom to fight the world. She her love deep in her gut and whispered to herself nightly, not yet. She just hoped he could wait.

"But the truth is," she remebered, "I'll stay at Downton until you want to run away with me," She had contemplated these words over and over. Turning them over in her mind and tasting their sweetness.

She had wanted to run away with him, right there on the spot, drop everything and get in the Renault, let him drive her anywhere. But again she pushed it down and whispered to it, not yet.

"It comes down to whether or not you love me, that's all, that's it, the rest is detail," He was right. He had known too that she loved him.

The train bounced and she opened her eyes, she brushed a few tears away from her face and put her feet back down on the car's floor. She had made her hard sacrifices for their future, she had cut her flow of funds off and left her family behind her, and while they consented, she knew it would never be the same. Her family was Tom now, her last name would no longer be Crawley, and her title would no longer be Lady.

She had kissed him before he left for Dublin two weeks prior. She had begged Edith to drive her into town and visit him at the Inn he was staying at. Thankfully she had caught him before he left and was able to wish him well - kissing him softly and gripping his hand in hers she bid him a safe trip to Dublin.

She began to slip into sleep as she thought of him still, her ticket, her support banner, her fiance. Her last thought before being submerged into a deep sleep was a wish, hoping that her family could make it to the wedding.

The sound of a whistle broke her reverie as the train began to slow, Sybil shot up as she cursed under her breath and pushed the strewn papers, letters, and pamphlets back into her handbag. Smoothing her hair under her hat and putting her gloves back on, Sybil calmed her nerves, and picked up her things, waiting impatiently for the train to stop. Dublin was waiting, Tom was waiting.

There was a rap on her door after the train stopped and Sybil stood, leaving the car and stepping out on the platform full of steam and busy and loud Irish locals. She was jostled towards the middle of the crowd and she held tightly to her bag, searching the vast crowd for Tom.

Suddenly she saw him, standing on tip-toe and looing over capped heads to find her, he had not yet seen her. She hurried forwards, making a diagonal swerve to make it to him and trying so hard to not be pushed out of the eye-line.

"Tom!" she called once she got in ear-shot and finally their eyes locked.

"Sybil!" he rushed forwards, not hesistating to scoop her into his arms and hold her close, one arm supporting her back and the other cupping her head, "I was worried I wouldn't find you,"

"I made it," she assured and they released slightly, she leaned forwards and pressed a kiss on his lips, not caring for propriety or they amount of people surrounding them.

There was a small hurrah from a few men around the couple and she felt Tom smile against her lips as the broke apart in a laugh, she hid her face in his chest, "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you," he murmured back and they broke apart and picked up her bags, "let's go home,"

She nodded and gripped his hands, "Home,"

A/N: So yeah, this was a bit of drabble that I had to write. I know we won't be able to see this on the actual Downton Abbey, so in my head this is how it happens. I will me making this a multi-chaptered fic if people want, but it won't be a straight line of stories, I'm just going to do moments in their life that I think we won't be able to see.

If you liked it, drop me a review. I'll probably write the wedding scene later this week, so look for that too!

3 x