Summary: Thomas has to take care of a certain butler when he gets injured. Set after Season 3. Could have another chapter between Carson and Thomas. Please comment!

Handling Butlers

Mr. Carson looked at his bleeding hand. The red liquid dripped down his palm and stained his white sleeve. He stood there, mesmerized. He would never tell anyone, but he was afraid of blood. The rivulets traced over his sleeve buttons, leaving a red sheen. The cut was large, and deep. He poked at it with his other hand, touching the cut with his index finger. He couldn't do anything but stand and shake, his knees wobbling slightly as he fell against the muddy wall. He hated the grime, but he abhorred the blood currently leaking from his hand. The sludge on the ground, fresh from the morning rain, seeped through his normally clean pants. As he went to gaze at his hand again he found himself staring at his brother's head, the child screaming on the muddy floor. Someone clutched his shoulder, shaking him from his memory. He couldn't hear the other person behind him, just a sharp, piercing, buzz, getting louder and louder.

"Mr. Carson!"

It was Thomas, the last person he wanted to see. He stared at the under-butler with wide brown eyes. Thomas continued to shake him until he responded.

"Thomas?"

This was the only time he could call the under-butler by his first name rather than the cordial, Mr. Barrow. He felt the other man's fingers on his throat as he gazed at his watch, counting something, counting the same thing the doctor did with his brother. He was back there, in the lake behind the house where his brother slipped and cracked his head on the ice, the blood dying the ice carmine. He fetched the doctor, but it was too late. He felt Thomas pushing him back into the ground, his head hitting something soft. He felt his legs rising off the ground and something cold against his forehead.

"Thomas?"

His cut hand clutched at the other man's jacket.

"You have to help Edward, he's dying,"

For a split second Mr. Barrow seemed confused, his hands on Carson's injured one. He felt the another wet cloth around his hand, sopping up the dirt on the sides and some of the blood.

"Mr. Carson, you're at Downton. You've got a nasty cut on your hand, but I've got it under control."

The blood had been cleaned up. The butler took a relieved breath. He glanced at Thomas, now tying a tight bandage. He winced, Thomas noticed.

"We want to stop that blood. Mr. Carson, are you with me?"

He felt himself nod, feeling oddly outside of himself. Thomas worked quickly, rolling up the butler's sleeve to make sure he had no more cuts.

"Tell me about your day Mr. Carson. What time do you wake up in the morning?"

He opened his mouth, and the words just started tumbling out. He slowly returned back to the present as he talked about his daily routine, leaving his brother, leaving the ice and instead feeling the cold, but not freezing mud. When their eyes locked, his body released the tension, his shoulders sliding down, his neck resting and his hand limp. The under-butler continued to wash his hand and wrist of the blood until it was completely gone, save for the specks on the bandage. Thomas worked efficiently and completely. He went to sit up. Thomas helped him sit up slowly, one hand on his back, the other on his forearm. He got to his feet with little help from Thomas, wrinkling his nose at his messy uniform. Mr. Barrow proceeded to light a cigarette, his hand slightly shaking from the cold or his nerves the butler didn't know. Per usual, Thomas blew out a swirl of smoke out.

"All right now Mr. Carson?"

He nodded before heading back inside, turning his head slightly he asked hoarsely,

"You won't-"

"Not a word sir."