Thomas stood outside Jimmy's door, civvies on and money hidden safely in his pocket. He raised his hand in hesitation, tempting himself to knock, whilst wondering what god he should thank for this unusual development in his life.
The night before, Jimmy had fallen asleep mid-sentence, with his head in his hands, leaving Thomas free to sneak back into Journey and return home. He still wasn't completely sure how the cupboard worked, but figured it must have been somehow linked to desires, subconscious or otherwise, seeing as he ended up in Future-Jimmy's house the first time, when he could have arrived anywhere.
Crammed inside the cupboard, frozen stiffly into place and breaking out into a nervous sweat, he imagined his bedroom cloaked in darkness at the end of a long day, a time in which everyone else had long since retired to bed, as he shut the doors to Journey firmly, blocking out the sight of Jimmy lying across the bed.
The room he came to was exactly how he'd left it, with his pyjamas draped over the back of a chair, and bed haphazardly made. After quickly jumping into his civvies, he pulled two suitcases out from under the bed, buzzing with the anticipation to fill them with all the valuables in Downton. Just as he was about to turn towards the sealed door, he stopped, and changed his mind at the last minute, allowing a smarter tactic to blossom. In theory, Thomas hesitated wonderingly, suitcases gripped firmly in hand, I could just hop back into Journey and have her take me to each of the rooms I want to go in.
Years of servitude had taught him how to sneak around rooms, like a ghost drifting through a haunted house; there but barely noticed. Thomas had taken anything that was small and easy to stuff inside the case. He would've liked to have cleared out entire rooms, stealing every single piece of furniture so that a real loss was felt, but the logical part of his mind had argued no, that just wasn't possible.
In the end, Thomas stole from ten rooms in total, everything from the best silverware, to Cora's finest Jewellery.
"This is quite the collection!" an old antique dealer said, standing behind the counter of a shop down York highstreet.
Thomas smiled curtly, his prepared lie blossoming sweetly on his tongue. "Yes my Great Grandmother died recently, and I need to clear out some of the things from her house quickly." He said, gazing down at the mass of goods spread out across the table.
The dealer nodded politely, holding up one of the rings to look at through a jewellers eye glass, before placing the item down again and beaming enthusiastically. "I'd be very happy to buy all of it."
"Good" Thomas replied sincerely, meaning the word as fully as humanly possible; to be honest, he'd had his doubts about whether the items would even be accepted at all. Then he paused and asked, carefully, "Can I get the money in cash?"
"No bank account?" the old dealer queried, attempting to appear baffled, but coming off as rather too pleased with himself. "Normally these things are done by wiring the money across to you-but I suppose we could do it cash-in-hand for a more" he'd dropped his voice to a murmur, leaning over the counter slightly "tax-free profit." The dealer finished, clasping his hands on the desk and straightening back up.
"Sounds good." Thomas nodded enthusiastically in response, not fully understanding what the dealer had said to him.
When evening came around, the dealer sat with him at a pub they had agreed to meet in, hidden away in the corner of the room. The old man hadn't hesitated as he slid a large roll of money over the small, beer stained table, in exchange for the suitcases full of the Abbey's valuables.
"Ten thousand on the nose" the dealer said in hushed tones, briefly opening the case to peer inside, before nodding his head and standing up with a proffered hand.
And when their handshake sealed the deal, Thomas worried that he might just have a heart attack, as he slid the overwhelming amount of money into his jacket pocket, attempting to appear calm. For the first time in an age, he prayed silently in his head, hoping that the man wouldn't come back looking for his money, as he made his way to Jimmy's house.
"You're back!" Jimmy beamed, beautifully sleepy and hungover, as he stepped back to let Thomas in.
Thomas wasted no time as he slipped the money out his pocket and held it out for Jimmy who closed the door, the latch clicking with a possessive snap.
The blond man's eyes widened slightly, as he took the bundle gently from Thomas' hand, their fingers brushing along the way, slow and purposeful.
"Great." Jimmy said, but his voice sounded far out and distant as if he were lost in other thoughts and only barely taking in the scene before him. "Great." He repeated again, this time louder, more confident, as he sauntered over to the coffee table, dumping the money down unceremoniously. "Sorry I'm a bit-" he waved a vague hand, bending down to unlatch a briefcase by the wall and pulling out a document. "It's just-I didn't know whether you'd be coming back or whether you maybe just accepted my offer 'cause you were drunk or something."
Plonking himself down on the couch, Jimmy handed the paper to Thomas who sat next to him unflinchingly. His strong resolve melted as Jimmy began to speak more on the sheet he was holding.
"I've got the legal document and everything completed already, all yer have to do is sign it." the former-footman stretched forward to grab a pen from the corner of the table and put the document in front of Thomas. "Everywhere marked X" Jimmy informed, leaning back casually. Thomas's heart began to race; surely he couldn't sign something like this if he technically didn't exist? And something told him that the future –which he must be in, surely?- didn't let things slide so easily to allow people get away with not existing or what have you.
When Thomas handed Jimmy back the document, the other man kept his face very blank for a moment as he flicked through the pages, and then laughed, nervously.
"Y'know…yer supposed to sign your real name on there, not the character you were dressed as last night - you must know that-" Jimmy gasped suddenly. "Oh my god!" Jimmy's face fell into his hands as he shook his head, suddenly mournful. "I don't even know your real name!" Jimmy's voice descended into a muffled murmur "Jesus, I've been such a fool, so desperate to find another business partner that I'm about to sign a contract with a delusional stranger. What am I doing?"
"That is my name!" Thomas protested before realising that he could have lied, and really should have. But he couldn't bear to lie to Jimmy. What was the point in living here if he still had to live a lie to exist? He was fed up of pretending.
"Just let me prove it to you!" Thomas pleaded.
Jimmy stormed to his feet and cried out "What is this? Some kind of cruel joke? Did one of Alfred's friends put you up to this?" Jimmy demanded, flying into hysteria, as his face scrunched up in anger, far too much like that awful night of the sleep kiss. "Alfred always did have a bloody awful sense of humour! Well, is this his last hah hah? He was always saying I was vain and manipulative, so he sends you-" Jimmy pointed at him furiously, accusingly, his eyes clouding over with tears, "the most vain and manipulative character he could find…to turn the tables on me" Jimmy's voice broke into a sob, voice deeply hurt and offended "so that I can get a taste of me own medicine and see how it feels to be manipulated and played for a fool-and just when I thought I had finally found a nice guy." he finished in a whimper, as he picked up the roll of money, tears streaming down his cheeks, and lobbed it at him with full force, screaming out "I bet this isn't even real money, you bastard!"
As Jimmy slumped to the ground, crying for the cruelness of humanity and the mistakes he'd made himself, Journey appeared, behind the sofa, whispering anxiously, take me home…take me home…take me home…
But this was his home how, and he'd come too far to just turn around and leave. Journey seemed to understand this as she let out a gentle hum that vibrated softly through the room.
Jimmy's eyes grew large as he stared at the majestic cupboard, standing protectively behind him like a warrior by his side. "What-?" he began to say, but Thomas cut him off.
"I'm afraid I haven't been entirely truthful with you Jimmy." He said solemnly, turning around briefly to acknowledge Journey's presence before casting his eyes back to Jimmy. In awe, the once-footman got up and stroked a hand along the length of the purple wood and smiled softly as he spoke again, as if in a daze.
"No, I don't suppose you have."
Epilogue
They spoke of everything and anything under the sun in the years that past together. At first they talked solely of Downton, allowing Thomas to finally reveal his story that he had left locked up in his heart for far too many years. He spoke of his life in ways he never had before. Jimmy in turn nodded, fascinated, and showed him the bizarre show they had made about the Abbey. Thomas wasn't sure why everyone, except him, had been re-invented with a new name, but didn't question it, seeing as his life was now filled with time-travelling wardrobes and futuristic boyfriends. Thomas felt a closeness he had never felt before, not even from the Jimmy back home, and every day he thanked the heavens for letting him have a second chance at life. The feeling of being able to tell someone everything, and hide nothing from the world, was liberating, addictively so, like a drug or the buzz alcohol creates as you approach a drunken state.
They ran the shop together, although Thomas never did sign the papers or become a technically-real person. Journey became their shared secret, the sweetest kind of burden to carry, completely unlike all the bitterness and sorrow that had trailed Thomas for most of his life. On dull, quiet days in the shop, normally in the late afternoon, Thomas would often look up from his newspaper spread out across the front desk, and ask nonchalantly 'where in time do you want to visit today?'
One time they even went to Downton and stood in the shelter of the stables opposite his bedroom window in the dead of the night. Sharing a kiss, Thomas watched the light in his once-bedroom flicker out and didn't feel guilty at all about forcing Carson to replace him.
Shortly after this, on a rainy Monday morning he remembers distinctly, Jimmy had found an old newspaper hidden in a box of junk, with the headline 'Under-Butler suspected of burglary' and they had laughed about the strange course of fate, with cigarettes in hand, cuddled up on Jimmy's ugly sofa, that had slowly deteriorated with age.
When their days of work were over, each evening- until the day Mr Magio's Emporium passed hands- they'd lock up the shop and Thomas would gaze up wonderingly at the redesigned façade, styled to look like it had the first time he'd seen it. It was strange the way things worked out; how if the woodworm had never eaten his first wardrobe, this new journey would have never begun.
There comes a point, however when all journey's must end, and, of course, as much as either of them loathed to admit it, there came a time when old age had officially made itself known and the shop had to go.
Still dressed very much as a man from another time, Thomas sat behind the front desk, his hair grey and joints rickety, waiting for the right person to come in and claim the Journey that Thomas no longer needed, for he had had more than enough to last him a lifetime.
