Author's note:

I've had this story in my mind for a few days and as no one else has written it so I decided to give it a try. This is set before Thomas gets his hand shot in the war and he's kind of ooc later on. Comment please! There might be more chapters-depends on how many people like it.

It was as if everything he ever wanted always slipped through his fingers like water. He wanted to be a valet and then Mr. Bates came along. He wanted to avoid being sent to the trenches so he trained in the medical corps. And then was sent to the trenches. Two years in war could do a lot to a man. He'd seen his fellow 'comrades' go crazy. He wouldn't call any of them his friend in fear of growing too close and risking the pain of them dying in his arms. He learned that lesson the second week in the trenches. It had just rained and the barrage of bullets was said to be over when they rejoiced by lighting some cigarettes. He had grown rather close to this young man and he reciprocated the feeling a night before the barrage where both slept together (and actually slept) for a good ten minutes. He caressed the man's face and rubbed his thumb over the contours of his cheekbones.

So anyways, they were just lighting their cigarettes when the bullets started again, and within a second, his friend was shot through the neck. He collapsed onto Thomas, blood pouring onto his uniform from the clean shot. He screamed, loud and girly. The other medic next to him pushed the dead man aside and dragged Thomas to where the wounded lay in a pile on top of one another.

And then a year and a half later he saw the future Earl of Grantham, Matthew Crawley. He made a joke about telling his mother about serving tea to an earl and was rewarded with a comment about social classes. It was that night when the German soldiers decided to cross No Man's land and enter into their trenches. They'd heard rumors but no one thought it would actually happen. He was playing cards with a chap from Britain when they heard the pounding footsteps and the gunshots. Not that the gunshots ever stopped, but now they were growing louder, closer. His card mate peeked above the soil and nearly got his face blown off. Thomas, not as dumb, clung to the underside of the wall, holding his helmet over his head. Even after two years, Thomas wasn't used to the noise. He didn't think he'd ever get used to it and hoped not. He ran over to get the stretcher and found himself next to Matthew Crawley yet again that day.

Now the soldiers were almost upon them completely. He reacted before he thought which admittedly, wasn't very much like Thomas, but he thought of Lady Mary Crawley and her brown hair and her harsh eyes and thought of Matthew's dirty blond hair and his blue eyes and realized that he wanted them to be together. He saw they made each other better and he wished so badly, oh how he wished, he could find a love like that. So he didn't do it for Matthew per say, he did it because he wished he could find a love like theirs.

So anyways, he saw the soldier coming with the German uniform and pointed his barrel at Matthew and pushed aside the dumb captain with a grunt. The bullets entered quickly, tearing through his stomach and his left soldier like nobody's business.

Except it was somebody's business, it was Thomas' business and Matthew seemed to care quite a bit too. He heard shouting. Well, to be specific, he heard more shouting-right in his ears. Matthew killed the officer and those that followed while Thomas lay dying behind him.

The blond turned around and pressed on his wound in his stomach.

"Thomas? Talk to me"

Thomas' lips quivered upward but reverted to normal after a second. He opened his mouth but only coughed up blood. His eyes started to glaze over, looking up at the cloud filled sky.

"Say anything. Tell me about working downstairs!"

His eyes wouldn't focus on Matthew and all at once he realized how disgusted and angry he was. He just gave his life for this man and he had given his life serving the family of this man!

"What's it like?" Thomas whispered, his voice barely audible.

Matthew kept screaming for a medic, not listening. He reached up and clawed at the man's uniform. His breath was coming in short bursts and he hated how disheveled he must appear. Carson would never forgive him!

The medic came over, conversing with the captain and getting bandages out. Thomas tried talking to them, but either his lips weren't moving or he was imagining talking.

"Can't you do something? Just, stop the bleeding!"

His eyes rolled upward and he went limp in the mud. He stopped listening. He couldn't see. He didn't care. He felt like he was floating, or sleeping on one of those fancy down filled comforters. He felt like he was drifting on the ocean, just slipping away like water.

-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-

He woke up blinded by the light. He blinked his eyes a few times until the light started receding. He smelled antiseptic ointment, and heard shouting. More shouting. He collapsed into unconsciousness again, welcoming it like an old friend.

The second time he came around he felt Death's hand on his shoulder. He felt his breath down his neck. There was no scythe like everyone said. There was no black robe. In fact, Thomas couldn't even see Death. Death stood behind him with all the fondness of his father. He heard running water.

But Death didn't want him. He felt a shove on his back and all of a sudden the peace and quiet was gone and the shouting was back. And then as easy as before, he slipped under.

The third time he awoke he was in Downton's hospital. There was Sybil sponging off his fevered brow and O'Brien.

"Thomas, how are you feeling?"

He glanced at Sybil, wondering why she wasn't in bed and he was serving her.

"Where, where am I?"

"Downton Hospital of course. It's only supposed to be for officer but Granny and the Doctor managed to pull some strings for you."

He felt his eyelids close again and then a sharp pinch.

"Oh no you don't. You just woke up. I'm fetching the doctor. O'Brien keep him awake."

The lady's maid looked at her partner with seriousness.

"When they said you'd been shot twice, and saved Mr. Crawley I couldn't believe it."

His eyebrows rose.

"Twice?"

His voice was cracked and dry. She gave him some water.

"They say you've been drifting in and out of consciousness ever since you got shot. They even lost you once on the operating table."

He took a minute to think. To think without people shouting at him, without someone ordering him around or someone trying to kill him constantly.

The doctor came in, asked him all sort of questions. He answered as best he could, but he didn't know most of the answers. He felt disoriented and out of place.

He couldn't move his left arm where a bullet struck him. At least, not very well. The bandages on his shoulder and stomach still bled through so the nurses had to change them often. He wasn't allowed to where a shirt in fear that the blood would stain the clothes.

He started walking around the second day at the hospital. He walked to the garden where he had to sit on the bench and catch his breath. He couldn't walk without the stitches across the front of his stomach hurting. While he was resting on the rusted bench in the garden Mr. Carson walked outside. He started to talk but Thomas held up his hand, his breathing still labored.

"Mr. Carson, I'd like to apologize. I was rude to you and shouldn't have stole."

Mr. Carson looked at him curiously and fiddled with his coat.

"Whatever sparked this Thomas?"

He plucked a flower off the ground.

"When I was at the front, I realized I never had it so good at Downton. When those bullets-"

He swallowed.

"When those bullets hit me, I thought I was going to die. Technically I did for seventeen seconds according to the doctor. I regretted not being able to apologize."

The butler sighed heavily and sat next to Thomas on the bench.

"They told me you've been shot twice."

Carson looked at the shirt, hanging over his bad arm and showing the growing red patch on his shoulder and stomach.

"Sir Crawley speaks highly of you. Says you saved his life."

Thomas' eyes roamed the ground, searching for the right words.

"Help me back inside?"

Carson nodded as he held tightly onto Thomas' good arm, steadying him.