AN: I've always wondered how Sybil and Tom navigated the aftermath of their flight from Dublin and exile from Ireland in Season 3, and how it affected their relationship. I simply am not satisfied with the bedroom scene in 3x04, after Sybil learns Tom did have a role in the attacks on Drumgoole Castle, which is all we really get about how they are dealing with this huge change in their lives and their feelings about it. So I decided to write this multi-chapter fic, starting from episode 3x04 and spanning until the baby is born in 3x05. I will try to stay as close to canon as possible.

This chapter takes place before 3x04, with Sybil and Tom's escape from Ireland. Reviews are very much appreciated!

As soon as the telephone rang, Sybil knew what had happened.

Evening had long since fallen, and her husband had yet to arrive home. She had left his dinner - a poor attempt at potato leek soup - waiting for him on the table, in hopes that he would come sweeping in at any moment, hat low over his face and the Evening Mail tucked under his arm. As she leaped from the sofa to answer the telephone, she saw that the soup had congealed into a lumpy mass the consistency of drying cement. No matter now; he wouldn't be eating it anyway.

"Hello?" she answered breathlessly, running a hand over her swollen pregnant belly.

"Sybil, darling, you must immediately leave the flat."

"Tom!" In the reflection of the kitchen window, Sybil saw her face was as white as starched hospital sheets. "What's going on? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, but I don't have time to explain now," he replied hurriedly. Through the line, Sybil could make out the sounds of voices, and what sounded like clanking chains. "I'm at the ferry station," he continued. "Listen to me. You must do exactly what we discussed. Leave the flat and meet me at the port. We'll find somewhere to wait until the first ferry tomorrow morning."

Sybil turned, eyes searching out the clock that hung above the breakfast table. It was just before seven o'clock, when the last ferry to England would leave the dock.

"Are you in danger?"

Tom hesitated for a moment. "The police are searching for me."

Sybil took a deep breath. "Then you must get on the ferry tonight, Tom. Right now, before the last one leaves. You must go to my parents and wait for me there."

"No, I – I can't leave you here." She heard the clang of the dock master's bell in the background, alerting all stragglers to the ferry's imminent departure. "Sybil, I can't. If something were to happen to you or the baby –"

"Well, you wouldn't be much help if you were in prison, either!" Sybil hissed. "Go, Tom. I will be fine. I will meet you there as soon as I can."

"I can't –" he choked out.

"You can, and you must." Sybil closed her eyes, pressing the phone tightly to her mouth. "I love you."

Tom swore softly. "I love you, too. But please, please be safe."

"I will. Now go!"

The line went dead. Sybil slowly lowered the receiver back onto the cradle. A strange wave of calmness washed over her, like she was back at the hospital, helping in surgery. She knew what needed to be done. There was no time for going to pieces.

Tom was smart and resourceful; he would be all right. At least, that's what she told herself as she hurried to fetch her coat and purse from the bedroom. They both would be just fine. And once she made it to Downton and was reunited with her dear husband, she would tell him exactly what she thought about this mess he had gotten them into.

xxx

Tom sat hunched over on the polished wooden bench, hands on his knees and head bowed. He felt sick to his stomach, though he had waved away the grimy bucket the ferryman had tried to pass him at the sight of his stricken face. He barely even noticed the gentle rocking of the boat as it made its way toward Liverpool. All he could think about was Sybil, alone in Dublin and on the run from the police.

He fervently prayed that she had had time to leave the flat before the police arrived, looking for him. It was sure to be the first place they would search, and he wasn't sure about their policy on holding spouses of suspected criminals. The thought of Sybil in jail made his chest feel tight. He sunk further down into his seat, ignoring the stares of a family seated on the opposite bench. Where was she now?

He had abandoned his pregnant wife in a country on the brink of civil war, leaving her to fend for herself as he fled. In all his years, and all the stupid things he had done, this topped them all. If he had known it would end this way, he never would have gotten involved with the IRA's plans.

It had seemed like a simple thing, to burn down Drumgoole Castle. In comparison to the assassinations and mobbings that had become commonplace across Ireland, arson was a relatively minor act of protest. But the sight of the Drumgoole's children, sobbing and clutching at their mother's skirts as their house burnt, had filled Tom with shame. He could see the fear and sorrow in Lady Drumgoole's eyes as she tried to soothe her crying sons, tears dripping off the end of her patrician nose. While Tom had sworn he would never commit violence in the name of Irish independence, he realized in that moment that burning a family's home to the ground was much more violent that he had imagined.

In the chaos of the fire brigade's arrival, it had been easy to slip away in the night, leaving his co-conspirators behind. He could see from their expressions of glee, lit up by the dancing orange light of the flames, that none of the other men felt the same heavy sense of regret that sat like a stone in his chest. They would gladly go to prison for their crime, and see it as a badge of honour for their role in Ireland's fight. Perhaps he had once felt the same way, but now that it was real, Tom saw no honour in what they had done.

Running as fast as his legs could carry him, Tom had darted through alleys and back gardens, keeping to the shadows. He couldn't go home; there was no telling how quickly the police would catch the other men, or how long before one of them gave the police his name. He had to get away from Dublin or he would surely be found and arrested.

Tom and Sybil had a plan, concocted during whispered conversations as they lay huddled together at night. Sybil knew about his involvement with the Irish rebels, though he had always concealed the details for her own safety. They had imagined it might come to this one day, though none of their plans had accounted for a pregnant Sybil. Leaving her alone to follow after him had been difficult enough to contemplate before the baby; now, Tom felt physically ill at the prospect.

The dock master had been kind enough to let him use the telephone in the office without asking too many questions. Tom had been careful to keep his face concealed beneath his hat and the collar of his coat, though he knew he reeked of smoke. Sybil, Sybil, Sybil. Hearing her voice over the telephone, his resolve to leave her behind had crumbled. It was fortunate that his wife had more fortitude than he did – she had made him go, knowing that he must.

Escaping from Ireland had been much simpler than Tom had imagined. No one had tried to stop him as he bought his ticket to Liverpool and chose a seat near the back of the boat. As the ferry left the port, his eyes had filled with tears as the lights of Dublin disappeared behind them, fading into black. He could not look away from the skyline, knowing she was somewhere in the city.

Please let her be safe, he prayed, let them both be safe.

AN: Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Chapter two coming soon. Please review, as I am really interested in knowing what you thought. Constructive criticism is also certainly welcome.