Just in case anybody is wondering, no I don't own any of it. If I did this would not be the last season they are filming now. And Andith would be going strong. In fact if JF is reading this (lol), BRING ANTHONY BACK! And I'm not talking Gillingham either.


As Robert left, Grace poked her head through the door. "Mr. Sinclair is expecting you half past."

Anthony sighed as he glanced at his watch. He had ten minutes to make his way up to Sinclair's office. "Alright then. Oh and…fill in my calendar for Friday evening. I'm having dinner with Lord Grantham and his family."

"Got it," Grace said cheerily. After all, it wasn't often Sir Anthony actually took a night off to just be with friends. Most of his social dinners were really business meetings.

As he rode up to the top floor in the elevator, it stopped two floors above his. The doors opened and a young woman stepped in. She smiled at him warmly but shyly. From her expression he knew that she recognized him but he couldn't place her at all. She was very pretty though with reddish blonde hair and very expressive brown eyes. Anthony's mind wandered in directions long since abandoned as his eyes moved over her body, which had just the right amount of curves in just the right places. If he were ten years younger, he'd be tempted to stumble his way through an awkward conversation in an effort to ask her out for drinks later; certainly not something he'd attempted in recent years. Consequently he simply returned her smile, said something inane but polite and enjoyed watching the view as the doors opened again and she exited on the communications floor.

Anthony arrived early for his appointment with Sinclair, as was his habit. Once inside the office of the head of MI-5, everything took on a more somber mood. Another British citizen had been captured by still yet another terrorist organization.

"Good grief," Anthony exclaimed when Sinclair gave him the details, "seems they grow new organizations faster than rabbits can mate."

Sinclair looked across his desk at Anthony and laughed. "Strallan, you can find the most unusual ways to express the most obvious facts."

Anthony stiffened slightly feeling awkward, as he often did. "Well, it's true. A new group every week it seems…"

"Quite right. I heard that Dennison is back?"

"Yes, he'll have his report in good order. Briefly though, he's made contact with a group in Syria that may prove beneficial. Oh and," he paused as he reached into his jacket pocket, "I received this just a few minutes ago from Lord Grantham. Seems they've come across some information about illegal weapons trade," he finished as he showed the list to Sinclair.

"Anthony you know we can't get bogged down in…" but Sinclair quieted as he glanced over the list. Then looking up at Anthony, he frowned. "You're sure about this?"

"It bears looking into. If even half of that list gets delivered, we're in for a very active few months ahead of us."

"Months? This could be a problem for years. Yes, do follow through and be sure to put some good people on it. We want to stop this before it happens and not try to tidy up after the fact.

"Quite right. Anything else, then?"

"No, just…welcome back. I'm glad you've had a holiday because it appears we won't have any more for the foreseeable future."

Anthony ventured back to his office, his mind deep into thoughts about stopping the arms sales listed in his pocket.

Two days later, Robert Crawley's middle daughter, Edith, sat at a table in a tea shop around the corner from her new workplace with one of her new coworkers, Thomas Barrow. He had been in his job for over ten years and knew his way around things. Edith thought he was perfect for the agency since he was good at collecting information. She knew he was fishing about to see what use she might be to him, but she had a use for him as well. He knew things and she wanted his knowledge.

They were chatting about their fellow co-workers when Thomas looked up, his eyes focused at something outside, across the road. "Blimey, what a beautiful man," Thomas said quite emphatically.

Edith glanced out the window and saw who he was talking about. The man indeed was quite handsome, tall, slimly built, with wavy blonde hair. He was making his way down the road at a quick pace. "Yes, he is, quite handsome," she agreed with a smile. "Is he your type?" she asked as she turned her attention back to Thomas.

"What?" he asked, looking guilty.

"It's alright, I know you're not a ladies man, Thomas. I imagine half the office is aware of it."

"Right," he said guardedly. "I just never know how new people are going to react is all." Then glancing back out the window, he smiled. "He might be my type if he had any interest at all. But he's firmly in the other camp so I'd never stand a chance."

"You've asked him?"

"No, but I know. Besides, he was married."

"Oh, so you've checked up on him? And you like tall and blonde?" Edith teased.

"In his case, it is the whole package. But it doesn't matter; he'd make me disappear if I approached him. I've heard stories about what he is capable of. And yes, I have …checked up on him."

Edith laughed at that. "But a woman would be safe with him?"

"Depends on how you define safe. He has a bit of a reputation, from before he was married you know. Seems he has a history of asking women out, having a bit of fun with them, and then disappearing. " Thomas teased in return. "But he seems a bit old for you."

"Just a small part of the package," she rejoined. "But he probably wouldn't be interested in me anyway, even for just a bit of fun."

"Oh, I don't know; you're… unique and from what I can tell, he doesn't go for the usual. I've seen him avoiding the women around the building. But then, he apparently hasn't gone for much since his wife died."

"How very sad…" Edith said wistfully.

The week went by far too quickly and on Friday afternoon, Anthony found himself wondering where the days had gone. Dennison had finished his report and he, along with another seasoned agent, Wainwright, was off to look into the arms sales. They had requested Perkins, a younger, less seasoned but highly promising agent as a third set of ears and eyes. Anthony had finished the last of the Monday morning stacks on his desk on Wednesday and spent the rest of the week digging further into the newest terrorist cell along with several other concerns that cropped up. By Friday afternoon he was ready for the less pressured, non business-like dinner at the Crawleys.

Just as he was about to leave his office he realized he hadn't the slightest notion about time or dress code for the dinner. Grace had him connected with Robert Crawley in just a few minutes.

"Sorry old Chap, I forgot to give you the details," Robert chuckled. "Not our usual affair with dinner jackets and the like. That's at Edith's insistence. More casual, she insisted, so just a jacket. You could even get away without a tie, I daresay. And dinner is at eight so if you can arrive somewhere around seven thirty that should suffice."

Anthony thanked him and left his office on a mission. Since formal attire wasn't required, he wanted to pick up his blue jacket from the cleaners. The jacket was comfortable, stylish, and like an old friend.

In the lobby of the building, he spotted the girl from the elevator at the first of the week. She seemed to be dashing out hurriedly. "Off to a date with some handsome and very lucky chap, no doubt," he mumbled as he watched her dart out the front of the building.