A/N: This very loosely follows canon (at least the bits that directly affect Jimmy), from Jimmy's arrival up to the end-of-s4 Christmas special (we all know s5 never happened nope nothing). Big thanks to the admin of fuckyeah-thommy for the Thommy storyline videos, which helped enormously with this fic.

When Jimmy walked down the staff corridor of Downton Abbey for the first time, his first impression was that it was so, so big. He didn't know where anything was or how it worked or who was working and living there. Everything was unknown. Flapping his hands helped a little, but he forced himself to stop as he reached the end of the corridor. Entering the servants' hall, Jimmy fixed a smile on his face and said "Hello," to the people amassed there, his gaze only reaching as high as their necks.

Everyone stared and Jimmy wanted to run back along the corridor but he made himself stay in place. "Can we help you?" one of the maids asked.

"I'm here to see Mr Carson," he said, looking at the different widths of wood on the back of the chair in front of him.

Another man walked into the room and he stared at Jimmy too. Was Jimmy doing something wrong? Had he dressed wrongly? Was his face not wearing the right expression?

"Who's this?" the man asked.

"Jimmy Kent, at your service," he said, because that was supposed to be polite. It was what he always said when he met new people, and it seemed to go down well.

"I'm Mr Barrow, his Lordship's valet," the new man said.

"I'm here to see Mr Carson," Jimmy repeated.

"What's the matter, have you all been turned into pillars of salt?" an older woman asked as she entered the room - and she stared at Jimmy as well! He hoped they were not always like that, because it was creepy. "May I help?"

"I'm here to see Mr Carson."

"I see. Well, if you'll - wait there."

"What?" Jimmy asked, but the woman had already started walking away.

"If you wait, she'll go and see if Mr Carson's ready," explained Mr Barrow.

Jimmy did, trying to disappear into a corner as the other servants mercifully returned to whatever they were doing. After a minute or two, the older woman ("I'm Mrs Hughes, the Housekeeper") returned and showed Jimmy into the Butler's office.

"I see you've been working for the Dowager, Lady Anstruther," said Mr Carson.

Jimmy said nothing, because it was not a question.

In his peripheral vision, from where his eyes were fixed on the reference in the Butler's hands, Jimmy saw Mr Carson raise his eyebrows. "Might you tell me about that, or should I simply guess? For example, why did you leave?"

"I can tell you," Jimmy said hastily, because it sounded as though he had got something wrong already. "She's closed up the house and gone to live in France. She wanted me to go but I didn't want to. I didn't think I'd like the food."

"Even though she wanted you to go?"

That's what I said, Jimmy thought. But his fellow footman from Lady Anstruther's (Luke) had said he should make a joke or something, so he echoed one of Luke's favourite sayings: "You know what women can be like."

Mr Carson did not laugh though. Jimmy was not good at telling jokes. "Not, I suspect, as well as you do."

That was a compliment, wasn't it? Jimmy wasn't sure. He ended up being offered the job though, so he couldn't have done too badly. Mr Carson showed him where a few things were and clarified his duties and the routine of the house. His pedantry was reassuring.

Later, Jimmy went upstairs to his new room to wash and change. He put away his few possessions and tried on his new uniform. As he was struggling into his shirt, he heard: "You got the job, then?" He turned to see Mr Barrow.

"I'm on my way, Mr Barrow," he said. "They say you were a footman once, so can I come to you if there's anything I need to know?"

"Certainly. Why not?"

Mr Barrow tried to make eye contact too much.

Jimmy returned to struggling with his new, over-starched clothes.

Jimmy liked Mrs Patmore. She didn't waste words, just gave their orders and sent them away. She was loud though, which made Jimmy's head hurt.

She was not as annoying as Alfred though, who stared at him combatively and quibbled over which tray he should be carrying. When they did get to carrying them upstairs, Jimmy felt more nervous than ever, feeling as though he was brand-new to the job and starting from the beginning all over again. It was suddenly hard to remember the simplest of tasks, in this entirely new situation.

He was introduced to them all, that first evening, through the oldest and clearly most distinguished of the family. "This is our new footman, mama. What should we call you?"

"Jimmy," he said.

"James, your Ladyship," Mr Carson said.

"My name's Jimmy," Jimmy insisted, because how could he let that change?

"His name's James," Mr Carson repeated. "You may call him James."

He sounded angry, so Jimmy fixed his eyes on his serving tray and said nothing until Mr Carson dismissed him.

"I've never been James in my life," he complained when he got downstairs. "I was Jimmy to Lady Anstruther."

Mr Carson did not budge an inch, and Alfred explained that he never did. "I should be able to use my own name," Jimmy said.

"You won't get any less out of Mr Carson. He thinks he owns everything about us."

Jimmy tried to ignore the breakfast conversation, because too many words too early in the morning tended to make his brain hurt. Why people were so talkative in the morning, he had no idea. Didn't they have enough to think about? He picked out a few words, though, and he even found that he could join in on their talk about babies. "It's always an idea to be prepared," he said.

"I expect you're always prepared," said Mr Barrow.

"I try to be, Mr Barrow," Jimmy replied, because he always found that having an idea of what would happen in advance was comforting. It helped him deal with what was going to happen.

Afterwards, Mr Carson stopped him. "Jimmy, could you take the time today to wind the clocks? It's time they were done and everyone else is otherwise engaged today. I'll tell you where they are, of course."

"Thank you, Mr Carson. Could I have it written down please?"

Jimmy found himself subject to another disapproving frown, but in the end Mr Carson agreed, and wrote him a quick list of the locations.

The only problem was, he knew nothing about clocks. Miss O'Brien told him to ask Mr Barrow. "I'd keep in with him if I were you," she added, and Jimmy supposed she had to be right because she had just helped him with advice. Accordingly, he went to Mr Barrow a little later, and asked if he would teach Jimmy.

Mr Barrow agreed, and took him to the clock in the hallway. "All you do is put the key into that point in the face - sometimes there's more than one winding point because the clock has more than one set of gears, but we're starting you off with an easy one. Although, this one is actually a timepiece because it doesn't chime. So then you turn it clockwise sixteen times until it becomes stiff, then you stop."

Jimmy lost track of the instructions through all the superfluous words. "Turn what? Look, can't you show me?"

Mr Barrow opened the clock face for him and handed him the key, pointing to the winding point for Jimmy to insert it. "Now turn it fifteen times clockwise and I'll help you feel when to stop on the last one."

Jimmy did as he was told, counting the revolutions aloud. When he reached the last one, Mr Barrow stepped up close behind him and put his hand over Jimmy's. Jimmy didn't much like to be touched, but Mr Barrow's hand was clean and dry, and the touch was firm, so he said nothing as they turned the key together.

"Concentrate on the circuit," Mr Barrow said quietly. "...There. You feel a slight increase in the resistance?"

"Yes," Jimmy replied. Mr Barrow put his hands on Jimmy's shoulders as they spoke about clocks as living things, and Jimmy wished he would stop, but it was easier to keep his back to Mr Barrow and avoid his stare than to move, so he stayed where he was.

The kitchen maid, Ivy, kept looking him up and down and smiling. Jimmy was reminded of what Luke had said about women staring and what it meant, and tried to stay out of her way in case she tried to talk to him too much. It took enough energy to speak to the people he had to without wasting it on people he had only known for a day.

He went back to his room when there was a lull in his workload after luncheon, adding a silver spoon to the two forks and a knife already assembled on his windowsill. They caught the light so prettily, reflecting off their clean, bright surfaces.

Mr Barrow spoke from his doorway. "Mr Carson wouldn't be entirely happy to see that."

"Yes he would. It's pretty."

"I meant you stealing the second-best silverware."

Jimmy watched the shadow of his finger blocking the light from the spoon, then letting it back. "I'm not stealing it. It's still here. I'm just using it."

"I'm not so sure Mr Carson would agree. See you later, Jimmy."

At the end of the day, Jimmy made himself sit at the table with the others, so as not to look unfriendly. All he wanted to do was sit in his bedroom and run the scrap of velvet he had acquired at Lady Anstruther's over his cheek; it felt so smooth and soft.

Instead, he took his pack of cards downstairs and fiddled with them far more than he played. He managed to avoid joining the conversation for the most part, until Mr Barrow said, "Show us a card trick, Jimmy." He was spared this, however, by Mr Carson's interruption to announce the baby.

"Do you like Lady Sybil?" Jimmy asked Mr Barrow, shuffling his cards repeatedly.

"I do. We worked together in the hospital during the war. So I know her better than all of them, really. She's a lovely person. Like you." And Mr Barrow touched him again, and Jimmy wanted him to stop but Miss O'Brien had told him to make friends with Mr Barrow and when he had told Lady Anstruther's friend not to touch him she had been angry and Lady Anstruther had told him not to be impertinent.

Miss O'Brien must have seen his frown because she asked, "Anything the matter?"

"Mr Barrow touches me," Jimmy said.

"I'm glad to hear it. That's a very good sign. If he's taken to you, he'll definitely put in a good word with his Lordship."

"I'd like to tell him to keep his distance."

"Do you want to get your marching orders, then?"

"Why?" Jimmy asked.

"He'll find it very insulting if you embarrass him, and then he won't be inclined to help you."

Jimmy bid her goodnight and went upstairs to think.

The morning after Lady Sybil's death, Jimmy knocked on Mr Barrow's door. He answered, red-eyed and head bowed, still only half changed into his uniform. "Good morning, Mr Barrow. I was wondering if I could speak with you a moment. In private," he added, because Miss O'Brien had told him not to embarrass Mr Barrow.

Mr Barrow nodded once, and let Jimmy inside, moving slowly as he pulled on his jacket.

"I don't like to be touched," Jimmy explained to his back.

"Jimmy, is this really the moment?"

"I won't be long, we won't be late."

Mr Barrow did not respond, so Jimmy continued.

"It's nothing personal against you, I just don't like it."

Mr Barrow half-turned. "Don't like what?" he asked, as though he was somewhere else.

"I don't like to be touched. It's too feathery and it makes my skin itch when people touch me lightly."

"Oh. So what kind of… touch do you like?"

"Just, firm. I like firm touches from people. So I know what they're about. And then let they let go neatly, not like they're leaving fingers behind."

"Alright," Mr Barrow said. "I'll bear it in mind. See you at breakfast, Jimmy."

And he did, looking little more recovered. Jimmy was proud he had asked Mr Barrow not to touch him without upsetting him further. Jimmy remembered what his mother had said, a long time ago, when a young woman who lived near to them had lost her sweetheart in an accident. "I'd say your grief speaks well for her."

"Thank you for that," Mr Barrow replied, and he must have listened a little to what Jimmy had said because he gripped Jimmy's hand firmly under the table before letting go neatly. "Thank you for saying that."

All the same, he would have preferred Mr Barrow not to touch him. It made his fingers prickle.

Later, he and Alfred waited for orders from Mr Carson in the hall. Mr Barrow was fixing a shoe, which was interesting; making something how it should be. Miss O'Brien seemed to think Jimmy liked Ivy, but she talked to him too much, and the pitch of her voice scratched his ears.

Mr Carson entered the room, chest puffed out. The room fell silent as he spoke. "It has come to my attention recently that several pieces of silverware are missing from the cabinets. I am not, of course, suggesting for a moment that any of you have taken it, but if you happen to have seen it or are able to find it, we would all be grateful for its safe return."

Mr Barrow looked at Jimmy. "I'm sure someone's just mislaid them after polishing, Mr Carson," he said.

"That was my point," Mr Carson replied. "If anyone does happen to find them, please return them to the cabinet or to my office, and we'll say no more about it."

Jimmy said nothing, because Mr Barrow had said that Mr Carson would be angry.