I'm still not entirely happy with this but it has been waiting around long enough; it's time I let you all see it. This owes a certain creative debt to the other letter-writing Thommy fics I've read. Respects canon up to Jimmy's leaving but probably creates a necessity for AU following on.
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Jimmy walks off the train and finds the cheapest room he can. He estimates that his savings will last a month or two, but he urgently needs to find a job. The city seems enormous and exciting; Jimmy has not felt this small since he was a toddler. It's good, at first; he loses himself in busy streets and brightly-coloured shop windows, walking until his feet ache.
He returns to his rented room when the sun sets, and loses himself in the dark. The world seems vast, stretching away endlessly beyond his sight. He lies back on his bed and imagines walking in reverse through his day, backwards along the cobbled streets, onto the train, steaming north up miles of tracks until finally reaching the train station he started at, the coach pulling the horse hindquarters-first to Downton, and there is Thomas. Thomas with his heartbroken smile and the way he can hardly meet Jimmy's eyes, the firm grasp of his handshake, and suddenly the words Jimmy had managed only a shadow of when he left come rushing from his heart and gather on the tip of his tongue. They feel so tangible there that for a moment Jimmy imagines that if he could kiss Thomas now, he would hear every one.
Perhaps he should write. Thomas had asked him to. Jimmy dare not light a candle because of the cost, so he lies with his thoughts full of Thomas until he falls asleep.
The next day, after his morning ablutions, he buys some cheap paper, an envelope and a stamp, and locks himself away in his room to write.
Dear Thomas,
There's a lot I need to say to you. I should have said it all before I left really but I didn't rightly know how. I'm not much for letters, like I said, but I couldn't go away without ever telling you. I'm sorry I've been such a daft git. I love you. I've been in love with you for an age, it feels like. I'm so sorry I never said anything, I was just so frit what people would do to me. I'm not brave like you, Thomas. Some days I hardly dared cadge a fag off you in case people thought we were too close. I was so scared of giving myself away. My only claim to being noble is I wasn't just scared on my account - I was, and am, scared for you too. I can't bear to think of someone hurting you. But then maybe that's selfish too.
I'm sorry I was such a tosspot to you after you kissed me. I still think you shouldn't have done - who kisses someone when they're asleep? - no doubt you thought it would be terribly romantic. You're like that sometimes, to a daft extent. People don't realise that about you, do they? That's one of the things I love about you; you can be harsh sometimes - and I know you won't deny that - but underneath it you're kind too, and so loving. You like to pretend you're all closed-off and don't have any emotions, and I understand, I do, but it makes me sad to think you've had to hide all your life.
But all the same. Fear made me cruel. And I didn't love you yet; I barely knew you then. I don't know when I started loving you, really, just one day I realised I did. It was a bit of a surprise, I can tell you. I wouldn't stop you if you kissed me now.
I miss you. I wish I could be with you.
Yours always,
Jimmy.
It takes barely a few minutes to get out everything he wants to say. It's rough, but it's heartfelt. He reads the missive silently, and knows he can never send it.
Slowly, he lets it fall into the fire, and starts again. It takes him nearly an hour to compose this letter, full of little references that he hopes Thomas will understand, but completely innocent to someone who does not know them. He agonises over the last sentence for a long time, but eventually he adds his final clue; the last "you" has a capital letter, to show Thomas he should read it as its own sentence; that this too is an allusion.
He stamps and addresses the envelope, slides his tiny letter inside, and takes it out to post.
-:-
It is lonely without Jimmy, though Thomas tries to be more open with the other servants. He makes more effort to bite his tongue instead of biting someone's head off. He is not at all sure he succeeds, with the dark grey buzzing mass that seems to fill his head all the time now.
It only takes a couple of days, however, until a letter arrives, addressed in Jimmy's handwriting; addressed to him in particular. The others ask him to read it out for news of Jimmy, but Thomas claims he does not have time; he wants to keep Jimmy's words for himself for a few minutes. At the least he wants to read the letter alone the first time. He takes it out with him when he goes for a smoke.
I'm sorry it took me so long to talk to you. I don't like to write to people unless I don't have any other option. I don't know what to put in a letter, so it took me ages to write this one.
Do you remember that day at the fair? I was so afraid of what people would do to me there but you were really brave, not like me.
I hope Downton is coping without me; I confess I'm missing it more than you might think.
Anyway, I've nothing else to say. I'm sure You know why.
It is such a short letter that Thomas feels disappointed, almost let-down. It is not even signed; has no name at the top; is barely a note. Nothing of real content and nothing about Jimmy's life or plans. Thomas tries to justify it to himself: the letter had obviously been sent within a day or two of Jimmy arriving, so he probably had not organised anything yet.
Thomas reads the letter again, throws his cigarette away, and goes inside to begin his duties.
He mulls over the words that day; he is so distracted he almost spills coffee at upstairs' breakfast. There is just something about it... When the servants settle down for their meal, Thomas relays that Jimmy is well and happy and will keep them updated on his plans.
He steals away for another cigarette, mostly so that he can re-read Jimmy's letter. He feels... he feels as though he is missing something. Jimmy, who hates to write letters, would surely not have gone to all the effort of writing and sending one - and so soon - without good reason, and this short note is so apparently without content that it does not seem to justify its own existence.
'Unless I don't have any other option' is the first phrase that stands out. It seems a little... extreme.
He also ponders the unexpected capital in the final sentence. The rest of the letter is written carefully, the darkness of the ink suggesting Jimmy had been writing slowly. There are no other mistakes; nowhere else he capitalises "you".
Which suggests it was deliberate. 'You know why'.
Thomas' heart starts pounding, the traitorous organ sending hope singing through his blood vessels. He had said those words to Jimmy himself, several years ago now. 'That day at the fair'... Jimmy had been afraid. Was he afraid now, perhaps?
The next phrase to catch Thomas' eye is 'I don't know what to put in a letter', because in light of the rest of the letter it reminds Thomas of "don't put anything in writing", something he said to Jimmy once in a short, tortuous conversation about Thomas' past - which, in this case, had meant Thomas' past lovers. Hence the talk being so short, Thomas thinks, showing the empty yard a sardonic smile.
He stares at the paper a little longer. He is sure three words are a fraction darker than the surrounding ones, as though they have been very carefully written over for a second time; it seems to say 'I'm missing you'. Which, as far as Thomas is concerned, confirms the existence of a private message hidden in the midst of this apparently innocuous missive.
Thomas tucks the letter in his inside pocket beside his swelling heart. "You're a smart one, Jimmy Kent," he murmurs to the grey sky, then turns to go back inside, writing a letter for Jimmy in his head.