Author's note

I wrote this fic to mark the birthday of babageneush/afraidnotscared (her story on ff is highly recommended). Happy birthday to you, my friend! I hope you enjoy this story. :)

In a recent fic called Your Ghost, I imagined a canon-era AU backstory for Sybil and Tom where they followed quite a different path to the one we saw on the show, and I wanted to explore that AU a little further with this story. I wrote it as a one-shot but may revisit it one day, if inspiration strikes...

Sybil closed the lid of her suitcase and patted it before fastening the locks – So that's it, I'm ready. The final day of her training had come and gone, and she had passed her exams with distinction – she was now a qualified nurse and ready, for the first time in her life, to do something useful.

But there was something very important she needed to do first….

A knock at the door – "Sybil, are you ready to go?"

She smiled at her roommate Margaret Kirkby, who had become a good friend as they stayed up till all hours, studying together and grilling each other on the knowledge they were working so hard to acquire. The two of them had become very close during their training, and she felt as if, for the first time, she had a real friend, who appreciated her for who she was and who wanted to help her achieve her dreams, not try to force her to mould herself to dreams others had for her. Well, the first female friend, anyway…

"Yes, thanks Margaret – quite ready." She picked up her case – her trunk had gone down earlier – and looked around the little room, with its faded curtains and its peeling wallpaper. She was really going to miss this place!

"All right, let's go. How are you getting home – do you need a lift to the station?"

Sybil breathed deeply – she had told Margaret about her family background, but she was always nervous about revealing too much of the detail of her privileged life as an Earl's daughter. While she was at the nursing school, she was a student, just like any other, never asking for, or receiving, special consideration. Everyone called her Sybil here, except for one of the sisters who called all the students by their surnames, and she loved being there purely on her own merits and not because of who her father was. Admitting the manner of her return journey would break that little barrier Sybil had built around herself, but she hoped Margaret would see it for what it was – a convenient way to get home, no more, no less.

"Papa is sending a car up for me. We live a long way from the station, so it's really much easier to drive the whole way home, especially with all the luggage we have."

Margaret took this little snippet with equanimity – she knew Sybil now, and she realised that she couldn't change her whole life overnight. In fact, she was proud of her friend for having the courage to break away from the stifling expectations and routine of her life at Downton Abbey by coming to nursing school.

"Need a hand carrying anything?"

"No thanks, I am all set." Sybil headed downstairs after her friend to the little alcove where, a couple of months before, she had heard something that had taken her breath away, and that had been on her mind ever since…

"I'd better go – Mam and Dad are expecting me by the noon train." Margaret reached out and gave her friend a hug, which Sybil returned eagerly – she didn't come from the kind of family where hugs were readily exchanged, so this sign of spontaneous affection really moved her.

"Stay in touch, Sybil, won't you? I'd love to hear how you get on when you arrive home and tell your father you are going to work at the local hospital! I know you will really shake things up when you get back there." Margaret's smile was warm as she pressed Sybil's fingers in her own, before wishing her a safe journey and turning away.

Shake things up? If only she knew just how true that was….

Sybil waited, fidgeting with her gloves – Where was he? Surely he should be here by now? What if he left Downton Abbey and didn't tell me? He wouldn't do that, would he?

When she finally saw the familiar shape of the Renault come around the bend into the courtyard, she felt the breath she didn't even realise she had been holding escape from her lungs. He was here!

The car drew to a stop and her heart turned over in her chest when she saw Branson step out of the car. Tom, his name is Tom, she told herself. She was so nervous about seeing him again, she hardly knew where to look….

Tom had spent the whole drive to York thinking about what he would say to Lady Sybil when he saw her again.

I hope you can forget about what I said, milady…

I hope we can put what happened last time behind us, milady…

Nothing seemed right. He knew he needed to smooth things over with her, so that they could continue to be friends, but he also didn't regret what he had said last time they had seen each other. He had been desperately in love with her since before the war, and he wanted nothing more than to devote every waking minute to her happiness if she would agree to marry him, just as he had promised her. If he could live that moment with her over again, he would do the exact same thing – take his heart in his hands and give it over into her keeping, and let her decide what to do with it.

At least she didn't say no – that's one comfort anyway. Maybe I can still win her over one day…

He decided to take his cue from her, rather than trying to plan everything he would say - "Good morning, milady. How are you today?

Was he imagining things – was she deliberately not meeting his eyes? Had he made her too nervous even to look at him? He moved his gaze to the rough stone of the alcove behind her. Seeing it, his thoughts immediately jumped back to the moment a couple of months before, when he had been standing in this exact spot, pouring his love out for someone who didn't seem to want it, who seemed to be embarrassed by him even speaking to her about it. That awful word "flattered"…

"Hello, Branson. I am fine, thank you, and you?"

Her voice seemed strained, but at least she was speaking to him.

"Thank you milady, I'm also well. Are these all your cases?"

"Yes, that's all of them."

Could this conversation get any more awkward?

He busied himself lifting her luggage onto the car, securing everything in place with long ropes. Satisfied, he turned back to her, wiping his hands on a handkerchief.

"All ready to go?"

She cleared her throat – "Well, Branson, I know you like history – perhaps if you have time, we could go and have a look at York Minster before we go? It's just wonderful, I think you might like it. Is there anything you need to rush back for?"

What on earth….

"Thank you, milady – I like that suggestion. You're right, I do have an interest in history and that's one of the most historic buildings in the North of England."

Her cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of rose at that, which he couldn't understand at all – what had he said?

"It's just a few streets away – we can walk there."

They walked out of the courtyard and into the ancient streets of the city founded nearly 2,000 years before. Sybil started to talk about her nursing training, and Tom was glad to see her becoming enthusiastic and excited as she told him about the things she had learned, seen, done. That was one of the things he loved so much about her – her passion to do something more with her life, something that would challenge her mind and her body, something that could free her from the bonds that held her in a life she didn't belong in and with a family who loved her but who didn't understand her.

"This way, Tom," she said, and blushed again – She called me by my name! She has never done that before. I wasn't even sure if she knew it...

They came into a large, beautiful square, framed at one end by the glorious Gothic west façade of the famous Minster. He started to head towards it, when she took his hand to stop him. He looked down at her hand, clasping his, and then up at her face, disbelief in his eyes.

She met his gaze this time, tightening her hold on his hand. She started to speak, stumbling on her words and trying again –

"Let's just go in here first, Tom – there's a lovely Catholic church, St Wilfrid's, which is worth a look too."

What was she up to? She obviously knew he was Catholic – was this her way of trying to make him feel that she was still his friend, taking an interest in his life?

Feeling as if he were in a dream, he followed her through the doors of the church, immediately at home as he smelt the familiar scent of incense, even though he only went to Mass once in a while, mainly so he could tell his mother he went if she asked him. A choir was rehearsing down near the altar, and the strains of a hymn he remembered from his childhood filled the air, adding to the peaceful atmosphere inside the church.

Her hand was still in his, her small, soft fingers entwined with his own as if they had always belonged there. She brought them to a stop about halfway along the nave of the church, that lovely flush creeping back onto her cheeks again as she turned towards him. She lifted her eyes to his -

"Tom, I want to say something to you before we go home."

"Yes, milady?"

"Oh, please, call me Sybil."

"Yes, what's on your mind, Sybil?"

"I never gave you an answer to that question you asked me the last time we met."

He gulped – he certainly hadn't expected her to be so direct. "That's true, Sybil, you didn't."

"I want to answer you, now."

He held his breath – Could it be?

"Tom, I'm ready to bet on you, to be with you. I want to marry you. If you still want me, that is?"

A huge grin broke out across his face - he wanted to jump, to shout for joy. He put his hand up to her face, touching her cheek – It's even softer than I had imagined it would be - and his eyes locked onto hers.

"Sybil, I've dreamed of nothing else for years. I love you so completely, I can't even put it into words properly. If you are really saying what I think you're saying, you have made me the happiest man who ever lived, and I promise you, as your husband I will do everything, anything, to make you happy, to take care of you and to be worthy of you."

He saw the gleam of tears in her blue-grey eyes, and as she put up her own hand to sit on top of his, he felt as if he had to pinch himself to prove this wasn't a dream….

"Tom, I hope you won't mind, but if you want to, we can get married right now, today. There's a little chapel just here in this church, and the priest has said he would marry us without needing to call the banns, since I am from Yorkshire and you are a baptised Catholic. That's why I brought you here, to surprise you. Who knows when we might have the chance again?"

"Sybil, I don't know what to say – yes, I do! I would love to marry you now. There is one thing to think about, though – what will we tell your family?"

"That's just it – we aren't going to tell them yet. For now, we will have to keep our marriage a secret, until we can find some way of leaving Downton Abbey and making a life for ourselves, a life of our own, far away from my family."

"We will do it, Sybil – I promise you. I'll work night and day to find a way to support you and give you the life you deserve."

"Darling, we're a team – I want to work too, and thank goodness I know how to do something I can earn a living from now."

She called me darling… His eyes glazed over slightly as his love for the beautiful, smart, passionate woman standing before him rolled over him like a wave.

"Come on, this way – Father Ryan is waiting for us."

Soon, they were before one of the small side altars in front of a kindly, middle aged priest. They took off their hats and laid them on a nearby pew, then stood before the priest, who opened his prayer book and began to speak the words of the marriage service. Tom's heart was racing so fast, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He heard himself saying the age old words:

"I, Tom, take thee, Sybil, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

Hearing Sybil make the same promise, her eyes shining like stars, her hands clasped tightly in his, was the most amazing moment of his life.

There was no wedding ring – he was determined to buy that for her himself when he could afford it - so the service closed with a simple, life changing sentence –

"I join you together in marriage, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen."

And it was done – she was his wife!

Sybil looked into Tom's eyes and she must have seen how much he wanted to kiss her. Her eyes lit up -

"Tom, you can kiss me, I want you to."

Slowly, unbelievingly, he put his arm around her waist, pulling her towards him as he had dreamed of doing so many times.

Their eyes remained locked as she lifted her hands to put them on the back of his neck. As he leaned down to her, feeling her rise up on her toes to meet him, he put one hand on the side of her face, gently stroking her, letting her come to him despite the urgency of his longing for her.

It felt almost like a sacrament to him as their lips finally came together in a kiss that consecrated the vows they had made to each other. He knew it was her first kiss, so he took his steer from her as to how far and fast he wanted to go, and he was surprised and thrilled when he felt her arms tightening around him and her curves pressing into his body, saw her eyes closing, smelled her lilac scent, tasted her beautiful mouth.

His tongue traced along her full bottom lip, asking for entrance, and as she granted it, he felt slightly dizzy. All rational thought left his mind at that point as they were both lost in a world of desire and joy, questions asked and answered, love freely given and received, their union sealed forever...

"Hm, hm!"

Sybil faintly heard something and realised that they were still standing in front of the little side altar, and that the friendly priest was waiting for them to conclude the necessary paperwork. She broke their kiss with a sigh, and moved out of Tom's arms reluctantly, taking his hand in hers.

They quickly signed the register, witnessed by a couple of friendly old ladies on their way to afternoon prayers, and it was official – they were Mr and Mrs Branson. The priest handed them their marriage certificate, and Tom took it carefully – without needing to discuss it, they both knew it would be safer for him to keep the evidence of what had happened today in his cottage, where no-one else ever came, until they were ready to reveal it.

Still holding her husband's hand, she led him back out into the sunshine. They both blinked at the brightness of the day – amazingly, as the clocks of the city struck two, she realised they had been together for less than an hour so far. But what an hour! A smile she couldn't hide broke out on Sybil's face and she turned to Tom, who was in a similar state of breathless happiness so intense he couldn't speak.

By mutual consent, they went to sit on a bench in the square opposite the ancient Minster. He slipped his arm around her so she could rest her head on his shoulder and they just sat quietly together, silently contemplating the enormity of what they had just done, and what it meant for the rest of their lives.

Sybil had never been more sure of herself than she was in that moment – all the doubt, worry and uncertainty that had plagued her during her training in York, when she thought of what Tom had asked her, and how she would answer him, had evaporated like the morning mist when hit with the clear sunshine of the certainty that had broken over her a few mornings before, after another restless night. The certainty that she loved him, had loved him for so long without realising, and that she wanted to be with him for the rest of her life, as he had asked her to do. She knew they had many obstacles ahead of them – finding a way to leave Downton Abbey and support themselves, finding a way to tell her family that she loved and had married the chauffeur, finding ways to be together as husband and wife in secret until then. But she had confidence in him and in their love for each other – no obstacle existed that they could not overcome, together.

Her heart was so full of love for this man by her side, she could hardly bear it. She was moved to speak words of love to him for the very first time -

"Tom, I love you so much, I loved you for years without knowing it, and it took being away from you for my mind to realise what my heart already knew. I'm sorry I took so long to come to my senses!"

"Sybil, oh darling, I would have waited forever for you, surely you know that? I can't begin to tell you how much I love you, have always loved you, right from the first moment we met. I swear I will love you for the rest of our lives, just as I do now."

They moved into another kiss, sweet and gentle at first, arms wound tightly around each other. Sybil felt herself begin to tremble, wanting to get closer to him, and her breath became ragged. What she was feeling, she wasn't really sure - it had only happened before late at night, when she awoke from stirring dreams of the man who was now her husband, and all she knew was that she wanted more. Tom sensed this change in her, and their kiss quickly deepened, full of promises to be redeemed in the moment when they could at last be alone and show their love for each other with more than just words...

Their journey home was quiet. She sat in the front seat of the Renault with him, in a similar pose to the one on the bench – resting her head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around her. Every now and then one or other of them would murmur a word or two but they had reached a consensus before leaving York that they would not speak of what was to come next until they had the chance to be together again and talk everything through, properly. For now they just wanted to bask in the warmth of each other's beloved presence and the joy of their unexpected marriage, storing up memories and feelings to keep them going through the hard times they both knew lay ahead.

He stopped the car once, just outside Ripon, for her to move into the back seat. Now, the pretence had to begin – to the rest of the world, they became Lady Sybil Crawley and Branson, the chauffeur, again.

When they arrived at Downton Abbey, the entire family was waiting for Sybil outside. She felt a lump in her throat when she realised that she wasn't able to share with anyone the most important event of her life – that she had to return to a family with whom she knew she could never be her true self. She would have to concern herself again with dress fittings and dinner invitations, all the useless trappings of a life she so wanted to leave behind...

As if reading her mind, Tom whispered – "You are a nurse now, don't forget that. I am so proud of you, my darling!"

She smiled as she anticipated the battles to come with her parents, once she told them that she wanted to go out and work as a nurse at the local hospital and do something real with her life, as she had always wanted. And that would only be the beginning...

The car drew to a stop and Tom, now back in his role as Branson, came around to open the door for her. Alighting from the car, she placed her gloved hand on his, secretly sliding her thumb into his palm and pressing it there as their eyes met for a brief moment before Sybil picked up again the mask of her life as Lady Sybil Crawley…. It won't be forever, just for a while until we can leave Downton Abbey for good ….

The End?

A/N -

The title of this story came from a beautiful song by Neil Finn, the talented NZ singer/songwriter. It's not the first time I have named a story this way - see also "Private Universe" in my Erin go Bragh! collection. I've also taken some artistic licence regarding how easy it would have been for Sybil to have organised a surprise wedding in a Catholic Church in 1916.

A couple of thank yous - to repmet who gave me her thoughts on which idea to write to mark this occasion, and to a couple of fansites: allenleechonline for the lovely s2 screen caps in the photoset I used on Tumblr, and jessicabfindlay for the cover art for this story.

Thank you so much for reading - as always, I'd really love to hear what you think! :)