A bit of Branson angst before the reunion.

Tom pulled the car into the garage as the first rays of light peeled over the horizon. As the engine whirred down to silence he leant his forehead on his knuckled fists, which had gripped the steering wheel too tightly the entire journey home. Home, he scoffed. While he had been welcomed to Downton and treated well, it had never felt like home and now, in the shadowy morning, thinking of where he had intended to be in this light, it felt empty. He felt empty. He should have known it would never have worked. It was too rash, too careless. Too perfect. Even now he could feel her against him; her tongue running down the hollow of his throat, her fingers clutching his shoulders to bring him ever closer, her warm breath on his ear as she cried out his name.

His cheek burned where she had kissed him goodbye.

He threw himself back into the seat, rubbing his fists into his eyes as though he could stem the falling tears with sheer force. He bit his bottom lip to hold in the cry that threatened to choke out. Why hadn't she looked back?

After his retort to Lady Mary – condescending cow – he had run to window to watch Sybil leave. She leant on Lady Edith's arm as they walked towards the car, their pale skin glowing ghost-like in the moonlight. He could see another figure in the car; a woman. Their mother? No, she was sitting in the front seat. A servant, then. Anna. And she would surely tell Bates. His only two real friends among the staff were now privy to his humiliation. But he was barely aware of this; his whole focus was concentrated on the shaking shoulders of his departing lover. Mary stepped into the light and replaced Edith's embrace as the middle sibling stepped around to the driver's door. God, he regretted those driving lessons now. Sybil leant into Mary's embrace, crying into her shoulder. Mary comforted her little sister, patting her dark hair and rubbing her back. Tom could see her whispering in her ear. Calming her. Or convincing her? Finally the women parted and Sybil turned to the car, opening the door. She lifted her foot inside and paused. The world was still. Tom pressed his hand against the cold glass, his breath held. Her shoulders shuddered again and she slid into the cab, her figure disappearing into the darkness.

Mary, however, turned and glanced up, her dark eyes seeking him out in the window. He knew she could see him and he held in his tears and pulled his hand back from the glass. He wouldn't fall apart in front of her, despite the churning pain in his stomach. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. He merely kept his chin high, staring down at her with defiance. She bowed her head slightly and slid in beside Sybil.

As the headlights disappeared down the lane he fell to his knees. He pressed his forehead against the window, the cool glass a frigid relief to his feverish skin as his sadness overwhelmed him.

He barely made a noise – this wasn't a cry for help, nor a cry to heaven. The only one who could save him from this pain had just driven away; on a promise, into a prison. Her family would never let them see each other. It had been difficult enough before to find a spare moment of blissful privacy, now it would be impossible. He crouched, doubled up, and choked out his sobs into the darkness. Her warmth had left the room. He was cold. Alone.

He left the inn hours later, before the housekeeper had risen. He couldn't bear any questions. He drove through the darkness with a foreign numbness. Would she be there waiting for him in the garage with apologies and fevered kisses? Or would she be locked in the house, forbidden to speak to him again? Or would she be in her room of her own accord, convinced into compliancy, her foolish affair over and willing to be forgotten? Surely, then, he would be greeted by Carson and a freshly printed letter of dismissal.

But the grounds were dark and the garage was empty, save for the car crookedly parked by Edith.

He stayed in the car until he was sure he was in control of his breathing. Numbly, he retrieved his suitcase from the back seat and retraced his steps back to the chauffeur's cottage. The key was where he left it, in a sealed envelope wedged into the door. He sat on the bed for a few moments staring at nothing, simply feeling the inhale and exhale of his breath. When the sun had spread across the floor to his feet he rose and changed into his old uniform. He had to know.

The night-frost crunched under his boots as he crossed the lawn to the Abbey. Smoke rose from the chimneys, so he knew that Daisy at least was up. He glanced up at Sybil's window and wasn't surprised to see the curtains were still drawn tightly. Lips pressed into a thin line he stepped through the servants' entrance, sat down at the table and tried in vain to concentrate on the newspaper in front of him.

Minutes later a steaming cup of tea was placed in front of him. Mrs Hughes was looking down at him, with a caring and curious look on her face. He realised she was waiting to the answer of a question. He hadn't even heard her come in.

'I'm sorry Mrs Hughes, what did you say?'

'I was only asking why you were up so early. We don't normally expect you in the house until the end of breakfast.'

'I hope I'm not intruding.'

'Not at all, I just hope I haven't forgotten an appointment.'

'Nothing planned that I know of, Mrs Hughes. I just couldn't sleep and thought I'd come up.'

'Yes, you do look a bit under the weather. Is everything okay, lad? You're not feeling feverish at all?'

'I'm not ill, Mrs Hughes. I'll be fine if I can just sit for a bit.' He paused, holding the hot cup in his palm. 'Do you know where Anna is? I need to talk to her.'

'Talk to her about what?'

'I…I found a glove in the cab of one of the motors yesterday. It must belong to one of the ladies; I was going to give it to Anna. She'd know where it should go.'

'Very well. Do you have it now?'

'No, it's in the garage.'

'Well bring it to me when you have the chance. Anna's not coming down today, she's not feeling well either. She looked like she'd been up all night when I saw her. Normally with Gwen gone to she'd have to fight through it but I'm not taking any chances with illness in this house, not after the past few months.' She looked closer at him and he flinched away from her gaze, fearing she'd see his redlined eyes and demand to know more. 'You know, you do look ill. Perhaps it would be best for you to take your breakfast in the cottage this morning. Rest up. I don't think they'll need the motor today.'

'Fine. Fine, I'll go now then.' He quickly swallowed the tea, scalding his tongue, and pulled on his jacket. 'I'll be in the garage. All day. If any one needs me.'

She wrinkled her forehead in confusion at his last comment, but nodded nonetheless. 'On you go.'

He swore under his breath as he stepped back into the cold morning air. No Anna meant no message. No message meant no hope. Jesus, he was tired. He shoved his freezing hands deep into his pockets and shuffled towards the cottage, deliberately scuffing his shining boots into the gravel drive. Out of habit he turned his head to glance at her window, expecting the cold white curtain front.

But there she was. Dark hair sweeping over her shoulders, pale skin, red lips and white nightdress. A beautiful ghost haunting him, always from above. Her hand came up to rest her palm against the glass just as he had done the night before. Their eyes locked, his chest burned. So close, but she may as well have been in Australia. His eyes were full and one escaped, spilling down onto his. She saw him wipe it away and it let loose her own tears. He could see her shoulders begin to shake again and her other arm wrapped around her middle as though to hold the sadness in.

He fought the urge to run back inside and up the stairs to hold her. That wouldn't help either of them. Even standing here, in full view of the curtained windows of her family he had to be careful. Who knew who was watching? But he needed to let her know that he was waiting for her. That he loved her.

He took a deep breath and brought his hands to his collar and casually loosened his tie, opening his collar with a quick smile. It broadened to a grin when he saw her laugh in recognition. He retied it and soberly placed his hand over his heart, with a nod. She nodded in return, and mimicked his pose.

The curtain in the window next to hers began to move so he nodded once more and turned away to walk quickly to the cottage. His job still wasn't safe. Their immediate future would be one of distance and insecurity. But he had hope. As long as she was there, as long as he had her whispered promises ringing in his ears and the memory of her lips on his skin, he had hope. He would wait, forever. She was worth it.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! I will try and update soon. Please review if you liked the story, it encourages me to get off my lazy ass and write. Lots of love, S. xx