I apologize in advance that this chapter is so depressing. I didn't intend to write it that way, but it somehow wrote itself and I couldn't help it. I hope to add another chapter with Thomas though and I hope it will be more cheerful. The drinking bromance continues!

I have to thank Scarlet again for her editing.

May 1922

"Morning, Tom." Lord Grantham entered the breakfast room on this nice spring day. The weather was wonderful and everything looked particularly sunny.

Except...

"Morning," came a very short reply from his son in law. He was pale and quite frankly looking extremely unwell today. Was he ill?

When it came to Tom Branson, Lord Grantham never really knew how to treat him. He no longer disliked his son-in-law. In fact, deep in his heart, he liked Tom. He had always known "Branson" was a very intelligent man, even back when he was a chauffeur at Downton. Even though he had always been a bit suspicious of his political views, he had always been impressed with how much and especially what the chauffeur read in his spare time. But now almost two years after Tom lived and worked again at Downton, Robert had also learned to respect his son in law's sense of duty, his honesty and his loyalty to the family. He also admired how he treated his little daughter.

Still they never talked about personal things. That was Cora's territory, who seemed to have found a motherly relationship with Tom. But the fellow really did looked bad today...

He put is fork down. "Are you ill? You don't look well, if you don't mind me saying so."

Tom sighed. "No, it's nothing." He looked on his plate and looked as if he wanted to add something, but decided against it. "Actually you're probably right. I don't think I can eat much today. I think I'll skip breakfast."

He stood. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to work."

When he closed the door behind him, he stood still for a second and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Her father really had no idea. Well, how could he, he hadn't even been there three years ago. But he had and he would never forget. He had to go through this day somehow. Working like crazy seemed like the best idea. And getting drunk in the evening, too. He didn't do that often and when he did it was always for the same reason. Today definitely was the day for it.

He worked at his desk for the rest of the morning, then spend the afternoon driving to various tenants and when he came home, he was too late to change for dinner. He asked Carson to excuse him to the family, visited Sybbie in the nursery for half an hour until she had to go to bed and then went right up to his room. He hadn't eaten the whole day. He was exhausted and feeling like hell. Good. No reminder of the feelings he had three years ago. And a good guarantee to get drunk very easily.

Now all he had to do was taking that bottle of Whiskey he had bought just for this day out of his cupboard and find a place where no one would disturb him. That was the difficult part. But he couldn't stay here. Not in this room. And not sitting on a bed. He needed a cold place and an uncomfortable one.

But where to find it? The house was still busy, the servants downstairs, the family in the dining room. As large as this house was, there was no privacy. Even in your own room you never knew whether one of the servants would come in to check on the fire, carry blankets, fetch dirty clothes or something. How he longed for their flat sometimes... how he longed for the past anyway...

He decided to go to the back of the house, behind the servant entrance. Nobody would be there at this time of the day, especially not on a chilly spring evening. He took good care that he wasn't seen by anyone when he moved down to the servants hall and quickly left the house through the back door.

It was pretty cold outside. Not yet dark, but the sun was just disappearing behind the stables. He went along the house around a corner where he thought he could be sure that no one would see him and sat down on the ground. He leaned his head on the wall and looked up into the sky.

"Sorry, love", he whispered quietly. "I shouldn't be here, sitting in the dust and in full intention of blowing my mind out of work for tonight. I should be with you, damn it..."

He took the Whiskey Bottle in his hand and opened it. "To our third anniversary!", he said loudly and took a big gulp.

"Don't tell me you're doing that again", he suddenly heard a voice say next to him. Thomas.

Tom sighed. "Not you again", he mumbled. "Don't you have anywhere else to be?"

The Under butler shook his head slowly. "Not really." He approached him and took his place next to Tom on the ground. "Anniversary, huh?"

"Yes." Tom took another sip from the bottle. "And actually, I don't want to talk about it. If you don't mind?" He indicated with his hand that he'd prefer the other man to leave, but Thomas remained seated.

"Good reason to drink, I guess", he agreed. "Come, take another sip, it'll go faster then."

They didn't talk for a while, just sitting there, while Tom worked on drinking as fast as he could and Thomas just sitting next to him in an strangely comforting silence. Finally Tom felt the effect of the liquid. His head was spinning, his feet were warm and heavy. He leaned his head back with a sigh and closed his eyes.

"Thanksss", he slurred. "It's working."

"Good for you", Thomas said. He hesitated. "Mind if I ask you something?"

Tom didn't say anything, but the under butler took that as a sign to continue.

"Why are you here outside? With me? Isn't there anyone in the family you could drown your sorrows with?"

Tom smiled unhappily. "They don't even think about it... none of them remembers the dddate." He took another sip and looked at Thomas. "And I didn't ask you to be here either."

"They don't know the date?" Thomas asked, ignoring the last sentence.

"Nope. Obvis...obvous... nope." Tom closed his eyes again. "I'm sssso sick."

Thomas smirked. "So soon? I thought that would follow tomorrow?"

Tom shook his head. "No, not that ssick. Just sick of these bloody cold fishes. Her father doesn't remember the day she married, Thomas. She was the sssweetest girl in the world and she thought of them all day. He didn't lead her down the aisle. My b-brother did. And I know she was sssad that her bloody father didn't come. She cried on her wedding day for Christ sssake! God, I can't bear it sometimes..."

"You're right, that sucks", Thomas agreed. He looked at Tom and pointed to the bottle. "Come on, a few more and you'll be okay. I'll help you to get in the house later."

He did as promised, thirty minutes later. It was difficult, but they managed to get in unseen somehow. Tom was far gone by that time. He would feel dreadful the following morning, Thomas knew, but not as dreadful as he probably felt that evening.

Thomas was not a man who allowed himself feelings of empathy very often, but when he saw the other man finally stumble in his room, his shoulders hanging, his normally handsome face blank and the blue and intelligent eyes glazing over from alcohol and cold from pain, he closed the door behind him and felt deeply sorry for him.

THE END