This is my Christmas present for all S/T fans. If it makes you forget just for a few minutes about Fellowes' bullshit, I'll be very happy. I don't know whether there will be further chapters; it all depends on my mood in the next few days. It's of course an AU fic with a very much alive Sybil. Though is it really AU? The more I think about it, all post 3x05 DA is only a crack!DA. Anyway, hope that you'll enjoy.

As always, bear in mind that I'm not a native English speaker.

Star

Christmas 1921

The first snow decided to fall on Yorkshire just three days before Christmas. It wasn't enough, however, to make Tom Branson turn his attention from his work. He was far too engrossed in his writing to even notice his wife's entrance.

'I didn't know that I married a workaholic,' muttered Sybil quietly.

'I'm not a workaholic, just…'

'You really don't need to prove yourself to anyone. Especially to me and Saoirse,' Sybil stated and sat on the edge of their bed.

'I know. But it doesn't change the fact that I want to give you both the best future I can. Moreover, I really like my job. I'm not the sort of person that does things only for money and recognition.'

'I know. That's why I love you'

'Only that?' Tom teased.

'That and many other things. Where's Saoirse?'

'I asked Mrs Hughes to look after her while I'm working. She's practically her surrogate grandmother right now.'

Sybil smiled feebly. 'Well, after Mary gives birth, I'm sure that Carson will become a surrogate grandfather. All equal in the universe.'

They were both aware that it would not be truly equal. Especially if Matthew and Mary's baby is a boy. Neither of them, however, wanted to dwell further on that.

This was not their first Christmas at Downton. It was the first Christmas, though, that they were spending at Downton alone. Of course they would prefer to spend Christmas in their London flat and then devote the following days to visiting their friends from work. But, as Sybil reminded her husband, they owed her family something after they had found refuge at Downton last year. Keeping an eye on Downton during her family's absence was not asking for much.

The last two years had been very eventful for them – marriage, settling into new life and jobs, pregnancy, exile from Ireland, the birth of their daughter, finally moving to London and settling into new jobs once more. Parenthood also proved to be quite a challenge.

To spend a few days in the country would certainly do us no harm. My family is not here, so Tom should feel perfectly comfortable, Sybil thought while walking down the stairs to fetch Saoirse. To be honest, she was starting to slightly worry about her husband – after what had happened last year, he was pushing himself very, very hard now. Too hard for her liking. She knew that Tom wanted to recompensate her for all the problems caused by his political involvement. He was aware that she didn't expect anything like that from him or even blamed him for anything – but he still wanted to do everything in his power to make his two women as comfortable as possible. That's what he was like. To her, he was the most wonderful man walking on Earth; it hurt her that her family weren't aware of just how exceptional he was. Yes, they did warm up to him, especially after he had helped to free Mr. Bates, but they still didn't appreciate him even half as much as he deserved. It was always only Matthew. Matthew was undoubtedly a good man; but he didn't need to fight for everything in his life as much as Tom. Frankly, he didn't even need to work at all. His future was completely secure.

When Sybil entered Mrs. Hughes' sitting room, she was greeted by the most endearing sight – Saoirse was sleeping comfortably in the older woman's arms, while sucking her thumb unconsciously in a rhythmic, unhurried manner. Mrs. Hughes greeted the young mother with a small, but at the same warm, smile.

'Lady Sybil…'

'Mrs. Branson,' Sybil corrected and sat in the opposite chair.

The housekeeper smiled again, 'Right, but do not expect Mr. Carson to address you in this way… Mrs. Branson. Now, until she wakes up, can I offer you a cup of tea?'

'Certainly.'

Both women were very well aware that such intimacy would not have been accepted between them just a few years ago. Now, however they both were similarly very well aware that neither of them had anything against it.

'Baby in the house is such a joy,' Mrs. Hughes remarked.

'Soon there will be even more joy. Especially Mr. Carson will be thrilled,' Sybil responded, without any trace of bitterness in her voice.

'I'm sure of it. I think that it's time to make a confession now, Mrs. Branson. Whatever everyone else in this house may think or say, it's you who've always been my favourite of the Crawley girls. You've always been the brave one and the one with the biggest heart. I must confess also one more thing to you – do you remember the garden party, the one when the war was announced?'

Sybil's cheeks suddenly grew hotter and a tender smile appeared on her face. 'How could I forget it?'

'When I noticed how close you and Mr. Branson were, I warned him that he would end with a broken heart. I've always had the highest opinion of you, Mrs. Branson, but it was inconceivable to imagine any young woman in your position to do what you did. So, you've simply exceeded my already high expectations of you. If there is any man in the world to deserve you, it's him. Both of you have very good hearts and do not shut themselves in your own private worlds. You're open to the world even though it sometimes rejects you.'

Sybil blushed even harder. 'Tom is an excellent man,' she whispered adoringly.

'He is. Mr. Carson may worship Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley, but you two are my personal favourites. Same can be said about this little one,' the housekeeper gestured towards the sleeping child.

Sybil was too touched for words. Someone in this house seemed to be aware of Tom's worth. Someone in this house was so accepting of them. While neither she nor Tom needed the world's approval, it was still extremely comforting to have someone's support.

The young woman was suddenly woken from her reverie by Mrs. Hughes, who was pointing at the child again – Saoirse was awake and desperately wanted to be in her Mama's arms.

It was a beautiful evening. The village had turned into a true winter wonderland, inviting people to walk in the fresh air under the starry sky. Yes, it was very cold; but the poetic beauty of the frosty evening was enough to warm the heart of any dreamer. The Bransons were enjoying their quiet, family stroll; it was one of those moments when nothing meant more than just feeling unity and closeness with another human being. It was one of those moments when nothing else mattered; it was just here and now.

'If that's not eternity, then I don't know what else is,' whispered Sybil quietly, gazing at the stars.

'I'm afraid that you're not the first person to say those things,' her husband teased.

'Maybe. But the point is that the most cliché statements are usually true. Will you say that I love you is a cliché statement as well?'

Tom was silent for a moment. When he finally opened his mouth, his answer was simple and totally predictable, but oh-so-honest and endearing.

'I love you too. Both of you. So very much,' Sybil responded, looking at her daughter, who was sleeping again, but this time in her father's arms.

'Confessing undying love under the starry sky in the winter scenery. For the first time in our lives, we are so conventional and predictable,' Tom smiled and took his wife's hand in his.

'We cannot always be unconventional. Striving for originality may sometimes deprive you of the most wonderful things. If we were always unconventional, you would never kiss me under the starry sky in the winter scenery.'

She didn't need to say anything more. She could only wonder how, even two years after their marriage, his kisses still filled her with indescribable warmth and complete blissfulness.

'This is eternity,' Sybil heard Tom whispering against her lips. And once more, she had to admit that the simplest statements were also usually the truest.

Christmas 1913

'Branson, I didn't know that you were such a star-gazer,' shouted Lady Sybil Crawley as she was approaching him through the snow.

'There are many things that you still don't know about me, milady,' Branson answered, but he did not turn his attention away from the starry sky.

'Hopefully, I'll manage to learn all of them. You're not the most secretive person on the planet. And not as unpredictable as Mary.'

They stayed silent for a moment and simply stood in the snow, gazing. No longer were they gazing at the stars, though – now they were just looking at each other.

Ultimately, the young lady decided to break the silence. 'How do you feel about your first Christmas at Downton? Are you coming to the Servant's ball?'. She blushed while uttering the last sentence. She didn't know why.

'Do I have any choice? Someone must drive you to all the Christmas parties. Yes, I'm going to the Servant's ball, even though I'm not a good dancer.'

Sybil didn't believe him, but nodded understandingly. 'I can assure you that out of all those Christmas parties, Servant's ball is the most fun. The least stiff.'

Silence fell between them again.

'It feels like eternity,' the youngest Crawley girl whispered quietly.

He knew that she didn't expect any answer to this. He just felt it. It amazed him that he understood so well a person that he had known for no longer than a year. However, he decided not to dwell on that at that moment.

'Merry Christmas. I must go. They'll be soon searching for me. Time to dress for dinner.' The girl turned on her heels and started walking towards the house.

Tom knew just one more thing – that wasn't her eternity.

He had so many dreams, but now he realized that they weren't just about making something of himself or introducing change into the world – he also wanted to just have someone by his side to watch the starry sky on the winter day just like that one.

Quietly he made a wish.

One of the stars fell.