Chapter 1

Thomas watched the storm from his bedroom window, smoking his cigarettes end-to-end. The wind was blowing snow and ice in thick, rolling waves across the grounds, covering all of Downton in white. Thomas couldn't even see the trees or much of the road anymore, but it didn't matter; it was the side door he was really keeping an eye on.

Today was he and Jimmy's half-day, and Jimmy had gone into town for a drink. He said he'd return before dinner, but it was nearly 6 o'clock and there was still no sign of him. Thomas hoped Jimmy was smart enough to stay in the tavern until the worst of the storm passed, but he suspected that was too bloody sensible for him. Jimmy was a reckless sort, especially with a bit of drink in him— and drink was something Jimmy often had.

That worried Thomas. Lately Jimmy had taken to buying cheap spirits and drinking them in his room, or going out at odd hours when he could get away with it and returning with alcohol on his breath. He seemed almost depressed, but wouldn't tell anyone what was bothering him.

Now he was out there in that wretched storm, probably drunk… anxiety twisted Thomas's stomach.

What if something happened to Jimmy out there? The snow was so thick he could easily become disoriented in it. What if he lost his way and froze to death? Thomas had heard that happened to people sometimes, even in their own front lawns. Or perhaps Jimmy would make it back only to fall ill because he'd gotten so cold… and he'd been wearing that silly coat too, the gray one that was terribly fashionable but not-so-terribly warm.

Thomas scowled and put out his cigarette. Damn Jimmy Kent and his vanity… damn him and his drunkenness, too. Thomas would have words with him when he got back. They were friends now, it was allowed.

Ah, but we're not such very good friends, are we? Thomas thought with a pang. When I asked if he wanted me to come with him, he said no straight away, and didn't even make up an excuse to soften the blow.

Worst of all, that hadn't been the first time Jimmy had turned him away without a word, or treated him coldly. Thomas knew it was because he still made Jimmy uncomfortable sometimes. Of course it was impossible for Thomas not to love Jimmy, but he tried his best not to ever show it, he really did.

He supposed he'd just have to try harder.

Distantly he heard the sounds of rattling cutlery and chattering voices coming from the servants' hall— dinner was ready, then. Thomas hoped Jimmy had come in and he just hadn't seen him through all the snow. It was possible.

With that thought in mind, Thomas hurried downstairs and poked his head in the door, looking for golden hair. He didn't want to ask but he opened his mouth anyway.

"Jimmy back, yet?"

Several people shook their heads, and Mrs. Hughes said something vague about being sure he'd turn up soon. Thomas nodded, wondering why no one else seemed worried, and slipped out of the room. He'd have to ring the tavern and see if Jimmy were still there, if only for his own peace of mind. There was no way he could sit down to dinner without knowing if Jimmy were alright first.

He rang using the telephone in Carson's office. Thomas asked after Jimmy and discovered he wasn't there, but the barman told Thomas Jimmy had come and went about two or three hours past—and that he'd been drunk and "behaving strangely."

Ice trickled through Thomas's veins as he hung up.

Even if Jimmy had walked very slowly, he still should've been back long ago. Something was wrong. Jimmy was out in the storm, drunk… perhaps depressed…

Heart in his throat, Thomas rushed back upstairs and bundled himself in his warmest clothing. Then he found and lit a sturdy outdoor lantern from one of the storage closets. When he was as ready as he could be, he dashed back downstairs to the servants' hall.

"I'm going out," Thomas said briskly. "to look for Jimmy."

Mr. Carson's eyebrows shot up. "What's this, Mr. Barrow…?"

Thomas did not feel like stroking Mr. Carson's sense of authority at the moment. Still, he had to tell someone where he was going in case he didn't come back, either.

"Jimmy said he'd return before dinner, sir, and he hasn't. I'm concerned something's happened to him in the storm." Thomas said. Belatedly he realized he was making a spectacle of himself in front of everyone—standing there by the table looking ridiculous in his hat and coat—but Thomas didn't care one wit what they thought.

This was an emergency.

Mr. Carson frowned. "While your concern is admirable, Thomas, it's very likely that James is simply waiting out the storm somewhere in town. You don't need to go trudging about in this weather looking for him."

"I called the tavern and the barman was sure Jimmy had come and went about two or three hours ago." Thomas said tightly. "And I know Jimmy; he's foolish enough to go out in the storm without a light, and get lost, especially if he's had something to drink."

"Perhaps Mr. Barrow is right to be concerned," Mrs. Hughes agreed, sounding worried.

Mr. Carson pressed his lips together, thinking. Thomas knew he was trying to decide on some course of action, but he was much too slow for Thomas. There were only two choices: look for Jimmy, or leave him out there in the storm to fend for himself.

Thomas didn't wait for a decision—his had already been made. He turned and left the servants' hall, opened the outside door, then closed it firmly behind him.

As soon as the cold hit him it took his breath away. He quickly wrapped his scarf over his mouth and nose and raised the lantern, squinting against the cutting wind. The whole world was white, and the wind sounded like distant shrieking.

This is dangerous, and no mistake, Thomas thought grimly.

He took a steadying breath and started heading for the village. The snow was not as deep as he'd expected, but the wind was so strong it had swept the snow thin in places and collected it into mountainous drifts in others. As long as Thomas stayed out of the drifts he should be able to manage. Luckily the road was easy enough to find, although it too was partially covered by towering snowdrifts, making it impassable for motors or carriages. He suspected even a sleigh would have difficulties.

For a moment he considered taking the shortcut into town like he usually did—there was a narrow path through the forest, and the trees would help keep the wind off him—but almost immediately Thomas nixed that idea. In the woods it would be too easy to veer off course and lose your way… especially as the sun set and it grew dark, which wouldn't be long now…

Thomas stopped in his tracks. Suddenly he knew what had happened to Jimmy.

The walk to the village had been much colder than Jimmy expected. The wind cut through his new coat like it was made of cobwebs, making him shiver till his teeth chattered. Thomas had been right about the bloody thing being too thin—in the shop when he'd tried it on, Thomas had looked him up and down and declared it "very handsome, but not thick enough for winter at Downton." But Jimmy hadn't listened to that— he'd been too busy enjoying the way Thomas had looked at him to pay much attention to his words.

But that was exactly it, wasn't it? It was things like that that had him running away from Downton every chance he got, and downing liquor wherever he could find it. He'd go mad if he didn't. It was the biggest mystery to Jimmy how Thomas lived with— with this— with so much grace and aplomb.

Jimmy felt torn to pieces at the best of times.

Out of habit Jimmy studied his reflection in the mirror behind the bar as he drank. Not a hair was out of place, his clothes were tidy, and even his expression was misleadingly neutral. He wondered how he could still look so good when he felt this bad. Perhaps other people felt like this, too, and he just never guessed because they looked perfectly calm on the surface. Jimmy glanced around the bar, wondering if any of them were like him.

He ordered a round of shots in hopes of washing all unwanted thoughts from his mind. Unfortunately it had the opposite effect: the more he drank the more he thought of Thomas.

Lovely, brave, foolish Thomas…

Jimmy hadn't meant to hurt him, but it kept happening over and over. He'd done it again today, snapping at him like that. If only Jimmy could do something to show him he was sorry.

Jimmy imagined taking Thomas's wounded hand in his and kissing it. Oh, that would be—

Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and finished his shot, then opened them again.

You can't ever have him, Jimmy told his reflection sternly. So stop thinking about it. You know there's no such thing as a happy ending for your sort.

Jimmy ordered another round of shots, and downed them in quick succession.

When he finished those he looked in the mirror again, feeling dizzy. He was making a terrible face now, wasn't he, all twisted up and miserable. It was really very ugly. How could Thomas care for him so much when he was such a fundamentally unattractive individual?

Don't ask why, just be grateful he loves you and is a friend to you, Jimmy told himself. Enjoy it while it lasts, don't be ungrateful. Jimmy pointed a finger at his reflection and wagged it.

The barman came over to Jimmy, clearly thinking the finger wag had been for him. Jimmy ordered a pint this time and thought about Thomas loving him, and how one day he wouldn't anymore. Maybe he'd find another man to love, one who was just as mad and romantic as he was, and he'd leave Downton forever. Or maybe he'd just fall out of love with Jimmy bit by bit, and Jimmy would die inside a little each day until he finally kicked it for real.

Jimmy slumped over his pint, feeling weepy and ill. There was an actual, physical ache in his chest, and it hurt. He looked at his reflection again—ah, now he looked almost as wretched as he felt.

How long had he been sitting here? It felt like years.

Without even realizing he was doing it at first, Jimmy began to sing "Tain't Nobodys Business If I Do" under his breath, his fingers idly tapping the notes on the bar as if he were playing piano. God, he didn't even like that tune, really… it was sad and disturbing… what the bloody hell was it in his head for…

Jimmy took another long drink.

"You alright, Mr. Kent?"

Jimmy blinked and struggled to focus on the barman. He was giving Jimmy a funny look, as if he were worried Jimmy had gone round the twist while he wasn't looking.

Well, maybe I have, Jimmy thought bitterly. In any case he decided he'd had quite enough to drink today; it was only making him feel worse than he already did. Jimmy nodded at the barman and paid his tab, miscounting the money twice before he got it right. Then he slid off the bar stool and made for the door. He swayed a bit, but he wasn't stumbling, and that was good.

As soon as he walked out of the tavern he regretted leaving its warmth. It had grown even colder in the time he'd been indoors, so cold it hurt to take too deep a breath. Sniffling miserably, Jimmy bent his head and trudged through the heavy snow, glad he knew a shortcut through the woods back to Downton. The trees would block the wind a little and it would get him home faster than the road.

Besides, Thomas was there, and it was better to be near him than not, no matter how much Jimmy's chest ached.

Daylight was fading fast, and Thomas knew it would be full dark soon. He concentrated hard on keeping his wits about him, looking for tracks in the snow by the light of his lantern. It was difficult; the air was so cold it hurt his face and his feet, though the wind had lessened considerably under the shelter of the trees.

At times he couldn't keep his thoughts from straying to all the dreadful things that could've happened to Jimmy and it made him feel sick with worry. Still, he forced himself to stay calm. He'd gambled that Jimmy had left the tavern and used this path, only the snow and the drink had obscured the way too much for Jimmy to follow. Jimmy was probably wandering around the forest now, lost and cold and frightened.

If Thomas's guess was wrong, however, Jimmy could be passed out in snowdrift somewhere far away, freezing to death…

No. Even the thought was intolerable.

For a long time there was nothing but silence, broken only by the wind and Thomas's own footsteps. Fear churned in his stomach, and his heart ached. Oh Jimmy, please be alright…if I would've known the storm was coming I would have followed you like I did at the fair, and kept you safe…

Finally he saw a very faint footprint in the snow, one that hadn't yet been erased by the wind. The outline of it was softened almost to obscurity by fresh snow, but Thomas could see more of them receding into the distance. They'd come from town and seemed to more or less follow the path, but now Thomas could see the point at which they'd made a wrong turn into the trees.

These had to belong to Jimmy.

Quickening his pace, he followed the tracks off the path. He needed to hurry and find Jimmy before darkness fell— it was already quite dim under the shade of the bare-limbed trees—and hopefully they could be back at Downton in an hour. Then the two of them could sit in front of the fire together and have tea, or perhaps hot cocoa if Mrs. Patmore was feeling generous, and Thomas would scold Jimmy, and Jimmy would promise never to be so foolish again. Yes, that would be very nice.

Thomas paused for a moment to catch his breath, and when he looked up he realized where he was.

The river was not far from here.

It was a smallish river and not very deep, but Thomas had heard stories over the years of a couple local children losing their lives in its waters: one who went swimming in the summer had turned up drowned a week later, and another who'd tried ice-gliding on it in winter had fallen through, and was unable to climb out before they froze to death.

What if Jimmy had wandered onto the ice and fallen through?

Thomas felt panic rise up to choke him. "Jimmy?" he yelled. The scarf muffled his voice, so he yanked it down and called Jimmy's name again, as loudly as he could. When he received only chilling silence in response, Thomas lurched forward and broke into a run.

He ran for what felt like an eternity. The lantern swung wildly in his grip, tossing mad shadows over the ghostly trees, but still Thomas followed Jimmy's footprints as best he could and never stopped calling his name.

Then a miracle happened—Jimmy answered back.

"Thomas?"

It was faint, but it was undoubtedly Jimmy. Thomas called for him again and staggered to a halt to listen, but his own gasping breaths were so loud he had to smother his mouth with his gloved hand to hear.

"Mr. Barrow? Where are you?"

"I'm here! Stay there, I'm coming to you!"

Smiling like a lunatic, he tromped through the snow towards the sound until he saw Jimmy. Love and relief swelled in his chest at the sight of him, bringing hot tears to his eyes.

"Jimmy!" he called joyfully, waving his hand. Jimmy was alright, Jimmy was safe… he looked very cold and scared but he clearly wasn't hurt. Thomas could take him home now and all would be well.

On legs weak with relief, Thomas wobbled down the small hill towards Jimmy, who stood on a similar hill not far away. The tears in Thomas's eyes blurred the world around him, making everything appear as if it were underwater, but he kept his eyes fixed on Jimmy as he walked—he could see him perfectly clearly, wearing that silly gray coat—

"No Thomas, stop!"

Thomas kept going, bewildered by the command. "What?"

"Thomas! You're standing on the—"

Thomas heard something crack under his feet.

Oh.

He'd forgotten all about the river.