Sybil stared at the door, wondering when Tom would walk through it. She had already showered and was now sitting on the edge of their bed running lotion up and down her legs. She knew he hadn't followed her and she had expected that from him; she too had conflicting feelings about their conversations, and they grew to be all the more menacing the longer he was gone.

In reality, it had only been fifteen minutes or so. Sybil knew this because when he walked in she looked away, her eyes instead catching on the clock on the wall. His shirt was untucked and he quickly began to unbutton it altogether but before she could comment on any of it, he spoke.

"I went to the bodega…"

"Are you back to smoking now?" she inquired, referring to the smell of cigarettes he brought in with him. Sybil then explained: "I smelled it on you when we were in Dublin too…"

Tom looked to the ground. "I'm not...I'm not picking it up again or anything. It's just habit and I'm sorry but it calms me down." Sybil looked to him. Her eyes narrowed as if to tell him that she only half-believed what he had said. "Nula and I had a fag. It's...I don't know. It reminded me of old times. There's comfort in it." Tom looked away now, his eyes concentrating on removing his watch and setting the gold down onto the nearby dresser.

Sybil stood slowly and walked to her own vanity to put her bottle of lotion back. Her sweetness mixed with his ash highlighted the tension in the room. Their actions were also contrasted, for as slowly as Sybil moved, Tom was darting about. He was shirtless now, grabbing for towels from the nearby linen closet before heading toward their bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Sybil called.

Tom stopped. "The bathroom. The smoke...I was going to take a shower," he explained. But he always showered before bed and the explanation was more about his acknowledgement toward the work he was doing to constantly keep Sybil happy. Smoking did remind Tom of his old life, but amongst the nostalgia there was hurt there too. Sometimes the smell made him more queasy than Sybil could imagine.

"Can we talk about this?"

He was still once more. Apparently he had read her wrong and was now adding that to the list of things he was ashamed of. "Sure...Sure, love..." He had other things to say but he could only concentrate on walking to her. "Sure."

Sybil was sitting at her vanity now so Tom took a seat on the corner of the bed, occupying the space she had just been. He waited, doing his best to be patient when his body seemed to crave the warm water of the shower the longer he was away from it. Tom blinked, over and over again, doing his best to keep his eyes from closing altogether. Apparently he wanted sleep now too.

"I...I'm sorry," she managed softly.

Tom sat up. "You? Syb, I...I'm sorry," he emphasized. "I shouldn't have said any of that and—"

"Why? I mean, why do you care? I don't care!" she said, a hand pressed inwardly toward her heart.

"Because I...I'm not sorry for what I did but I'm not proud of how it makes you look."

"How it makes me look?"

"You know, like...your parents think you fucked a felon. I don't like the way they look at you because of what I've done. It's shit."

"Yeah well they weren't much kinder before we told them all of that, were they?"

"We? No, me, Syb. And again, I am sorry. Really, I am. I should have kept my mouth shut and—"

"Tom, I didn't keep my mouth shut either!"

"But they're your parents!"

"And you're my boyfriend!" Sybil tossed back. "I love you, Tom! You're the father of my child and most of all, you're my best friend. You and Isla are my family. They gave up that right a long time ago. I don't...I don't care what they think so there's no sense in you caring."

"I don't like the way they talk to you, Sybil," Tom said strongly, this time with more confidence. Slowly he was shedding the scared boy he had become when he walked up West 74th Street to buy a pack of fags.

"Yeah, well neither do I. But that's the way they've always talked to me. That's...that's why I left," she said, breathing out and simultaneously lifting a weight from her chest. It was the first of many that would be lost.

"Do you...do you want to go somewhere?"

Sybil piqued an eyebrow. "Go somewhere?"

"I don't know...you said you wanted to pack your things. Maybe we could go to the beach for a bit...you know, until they leave."

Sybil smiled. She stood and went to him, her hands immediately pressed to his face. "You're sweet, Tom."

"I was hardly sweet to your parents…"

"Yes, well I'm not talking about them right now. I'm talking about you. You're thoughtful and kind and gentle and…" She breathed out once more. "I don't care what they think but I guess I just wished they could see what I see."

"I don't blame them. I shouldn't have called Thatcher a cunt."

Sybil giggled, dropping her head down to do so. Her hands remained on Tom's naked shoulders now and her thumbs toyed at the gold chain of his cross necklace. "Well, maybe not," she shrugged. "But she is."

Tom was previously staring at the floor but something in her tone had him smirking. He pressed his tongue into his cheek and as his eyes scanned upward they took all of Sybil in. Her pale legs and the way her arms disappeared in the soft wool of one of his sweaters, that of which was now hanging off her shoulders. "She is what?" Tom finally asked, clearly teasing.

Sybil laughed again. "I'm not saying that word."

"It's a good word," Tom conceded with a chuckle. "You should say it…"

"Tom…" Sybil warned. Though her voice told of ceasement, she did not move. In fact, when Tom reached out for her hips, Sybil only softened into his grip.

"I like when your mouth says dirty things."

"I know you do," she said breathily. "You like when my mouth does a lot of things."

Tom's eyes widened. He was so shocked he removed a hand from Sybil's backside to point in her direction. "You said that! Not me!"

Sybil dropped her head back. "Alright you, off to the shower."

Tom sighed while they detached completely. The moment was gone with Sybil going back to her vanity to apply eye cream. He wasn't too far before he turned back to her and asked the question that was to blame for the smile she was already wearing. "You wanna come?"

Sybil continued to smile. If she looked to him it was likely she would have agreed but with her eyes concentrating on the mirror, she shook her head.

"You're missing out, Sybil Crawley."

Even though a large part of her (her heart, mostly) was sad, Sybil couldn't help but to smile. In a way she wished her parents could see this, how Tom banished any form of self-doubt and did nothing but support and build-up the woman she wanted to be and now was — all because of him.

She wore this smile, and his cardigan, out of her room. The house was quiet and she found herself wondering how everyone had disappeared so quickly. If she didn't know any better she'd think this was all a dream. For a while she hoped that was the case but when she shut the refrigerator after retrieving a glass of water, Sybil nearly jumped back. Thankfully it was not her mother or father standing before her.

"Mary," Sybil whispered, her breath halted to the back of her throat making it so she couldn't manage much else.

"I...I've been waiting…"

Sybil's forehead creased. "Well that's creepy…"

Mary gave a small smile. "You can say what you want and you have the right to say it but I don't like to see you cry and I know how Mum and Dad can be and I'm sure they weren't kind and I guess…"

Sybil nodded. "S'fine."

"Well it's not though, because—"

Sybil reached forward and placed a hand to her sister's shoulder. "Mary, I...I love you. I do. You're my sister and you're my family and I truly do adore you. But this, right now...you apologizing," she tried to explain, "is about you. You feel bad...and I get that. I appreciate it but I'm tired. I'll let you do all of this tomorrow but tonight I just need to be alone. I've done what everyone else wanted me to do today so I'm going to be selfish right now and do what I want to do…"

Without sound or fanfare, Sybil walked away. Mary was speechless but she watched her go, wondering when in the world her baby sister had grown up so fast. Even when Sybil was back in her room, Mary did not retreat. She remained in the still-dark kitchen, her back leaning against the island while she ran a hand over the swell of her stomach.

Back in her room, Sybil was quiet shutting the door. Maybe she expected Tom to be in bed or maybe she didn't want to disturb the calm that existed beyond the large white door she had just latched.

Tom wasn't in bed. Somehow he was still naked, standing in nothing but a towel while he finished brushing his teeth. When he saw her he was smiling too, and happier now that his hands and mouth were free to approach her and preposition her with plans for the rest of the night.

He stepped into her, all of her softening underneath his touch while his hands wrapped around her waist and his lips immediately began to suck at the skin of her neck. She shied away from his kisses but soon she was moving her hair, giving him even more room to assault her skin into beautiful shapes of lavender and blue.

"How are you not dressed yet?

Tom lifted his head. "Are you complaining?"

"Never complaining," she said, giggling.

"I missed you in the shower," he admitted. His voice was gruff, mimicking the way his hands now ran up and down her back, all before slipping into her sleep shorts to rest on her bum.

"You smell good," she commented.

Tom could only grin before placing another kiss to her collarbone. Her lips had gone untouched and somehow she didn't mind. "Better than smoke?"

Sybil nodded. "Much."

Without prompt Sybil jumped up onto Tom and the two stumbled backward, with Tom pressing a strong hand to the mattress before settling them both down upon it. Even when he wanted her, even when the two believed their intimacy could erase all evil in the world, he was still so unbelievably gentle.

When their lips did meet, it was chaste at first. Each kiss was short, with both nipping at one another, slowly and softly with lips that didn't seem to want to part. Soon though Tom's cardigan was pushed off of Sybil's shoulders and while his hands began to inch underneath her shirt, Sybil pressed her tongue against his causing his hips to involuntarily buck into her.

Sybil dropped her head back to laugh. "This is nice, you know…"

Tom was distracted, but his curiosity stunted the way his palm was now cupping her breast. "What is?"

Sybil's mouth fell. She must not have thought he would have asked for an elaboration because she was suddenly hesitant to give one. "You still wanting me."

Tom blinked quickly. "What?"

"I don't know…"

He shifted upon her. "Yeah, me neither. Of course I want you. Always," he assured with a seductive kiss pressed to her shoulder.

"Even when I'm a witch to my parents?"

"Especially when you're a witch to your parents," Tom growled.

Sybil giggled, giving in to his ministrations now that his hand had brought her chest to two stiff peaks and was now working to push her camisole off her shoulders so his mouth could remedy the situation he'd procured. Sybil was impatient so she nudged him off of her if only to rid herself of the clothing she wore. Tom found himself even more aroused when Sybil flipped them over so she was on top. He stared up at her, amazed by her beauty but surprised to find she was still so willing to give herself to him in this way. He turned hours to days in prison wondering if she regretted what they had done. All the while he savored those memories, especially the silent moments they shared thereafter when her brow was dotted with beads of sweat and he dismissed her doubts with a kiss to her eyelids. While Tom was lost in her eyes or the freckles on her arms, Sybil found herself wondering how Tom was so capable of love after losing so much.

"Hey," Sybil finally tried, causing the two to pull away. Her hands kept a strong grip on his neck while her thumbs caressed his cheeks and kept him close. Tom felt powerless beneath her but he couldn't help but let the pads of his fingertips get acquainted with her skin as if it were the first time. Despite what she thought, Tom did nothing but wake up each morning to find he only wanted Sybil more.

"Yeah?" Tom lifted his head.

"I'm sorry, I...I got distracted."

"S'okay," Tom nodded before kissing her forcefully.

Sybil reciprocated but when the two pulled away it seemed she was not done talking. While he waited, Tom pondered about whether or not Sybil wanted to bring up his language again. He figured she was still bothered by the things he'd said or even open to admitting that she preferred he hadn't told her parents about his past. Instead she gave a different sentiment, one that negated all Tom could have dreamed up. "I love you. I don't know if I...I love you, Tom," she settled. "I'm sorry my parents were so unkind. They don't...they don't know what they're talking about."

"Sometimes my mum doesn't either," Tom said with a nervous laugh.

"Your mother's bias is tame compared to my parents. I just...I don't want you to think of what they said, alright? You have to forget it. They don't know what they're talking about and—"

"Syb…" Tom tried. He was naked beneath her but somehow that didn't stop them from starting this conversation. "Love, are you telling me this for me or for you?"

"What?"

Tom chuckled again. "Do you need to validate that that all doesn't matter before we sleep together or—"

Sybil shook her head. "What? I mean…"

"Sybil, love, stop thinking about it. That's what this is, right? Let's just forget for a bit, yeah?"

She nodded. Really, she had no other choice. Even that was difficult as soon his hand was pressed steadily to the back of her head, keeping them joined at the lips. He wasn't even inside her and already the two were rocking against one another. When that closeness finally was achieved Sybil tossed her head back but only long enough for the both to get comfortable — mere seconds, maybe. Soon they were attached again, with Sybil keeping a strong grip on Tom's shoulders so the rolling of her hips taunted him in the way he liked. He licked his lips at the mere sight of her, bare skinned and sleepy even as she moved against him. At one point he had her bottom lip between his teeth and when he thought that perhaps the pain was too much, Sybil only returned for more, her fingers pleading as they raked at his scalp.

The pair nearly came together, loudly and without apology. It was all a haze but both were brought back to reality by the other laughing, inviting an unreal amount of peace into the room. Sybil didn't even bother to roll off of Tom, she just settled into his side, her lips seeking out his neck with the simple extension of her own.

"Branson," she whispered.

Tom blinked, stretching so his eyes could rest directly upon hers. "Huh?"

"You called me Sybil Crawley before. I want to be Sybil Branson."

Tom laughed. "Are you proposing to me?"

"No," Sybil dismissed with a giggle. "Well…" Her voice trailed off. "Maybe."

"You can't do that because I have plans."

Sybil gave a cheeky grin. "Plans?"

"Don't worry about it. But—"

Sybil kissed him fiercely. When they broke apart their eyes fluttered open and neither could contain just how elated they felt in this moment. "I just...I didn't care but after tonight I don't want their name anymore. I want your name...and Isla's name," she added.

Tom nodded. "Alright then."

"That's it?"

"Yeah," Tom stated energetically. "Let's go to the courthouse tomorrow. If you want my name I will very happily give you my name. Just know that—"

"I know," she nodded quickly. "And I don't want to ruin any of those plans you have. I mean, whatever they are...I'm sure I'll love it. But I'm done with my past. You're my world now and like I told my parents, you and Isla are my family. I'm ready to be Sybil Branson. I don't want to wait any longer."

~!~

Before dawn, Sybil had slipped from out of Tom's embrace and moved to slowly sit up. In her nakedness she searched around in the darkness for her robe and as she moved to slip her arms into the sleeves, Tom awoke and reached out for her.

"Sun's not even up…" he commented. His face was still very much facing down into his pillow and he squinted an eye shut making Sybil giggle at the sight of him.

"I know," she said softly, reaching out for him. "I haven't seen Isla in a few hours and I've just been laying here thinking of her so I figured I'd get up and make us breakfast."

"How does that involve Isla?"

"I heard her on the monitor not too long ago. She'll help."

Tom chuckled. "Yeah, she's a big help in the kitchen, I imagine."

"She is!" Sybil laughed with him. "But you know what would be even better? If her Daddy came to help too."

Tom groaned and turned away from Sybil once more. All she could see of him was the freckles on his shoulders and the muscles on his back just below. He settled further into the bed but his eyes remained open, blinking at the slit in the curtains, attempting to reveal a new day.

"I was really enjoying laying here…"

"Yeah, me too but we have to face the world sometime—"

Tom disagreed, or at least his body did. He grabbed Sybil's midsection and pulled her toward him. She shrieked but did little to put up a fight. In fact, when she was completely enveloped in his arms once more, she wondered how in the world she had escaped his grasp so easily just moments before.

"I don't want to face the world today," he finally admitted with a kiss to the nape of her neck.

"Love, we have to."

"I just—"

Sybil turned to him, their faces practically touching as she looked at him over her shoulder. "Do it for me?"

It was all Tom needed. Soon he was throwing off the comforter and padding toward his armoire to grab for a pair of sweatpants. Sybil watched him go, never quite tiring of the sight of his backside. Constantly she was reminded of their first night together and how she was so shy then. She'd told Tom many times since then that she wanted to and would have slept with him that first evening out on the hideabed. He didn't believe her but it didn't keep his mouth from going dry.

By the time he was ready, Sybil was still brushing her teeth. Already he was seeing flecs of her, flashes where the old her was trying to reemerge. She said she didn't care about her parents but she still spent time fixing her hair and the outfit she planned to wear into the kitchen was far nicer than her usual attire. The couple may not have had plans to sit down with the Crawleys but even Sybil couldn't deny the way she felt the need to impress them. In their world, her old life, the person you presented to everyone was far more important than the way you felt inside.

"I'm going to grab Isla."

Sybil popped her head out of the bathroom. "Am I taking too long?"

Tom smirked. "A bit. But I'll use the time to change and dress her. Take your time…"

Sybil grinned. "Thanks, love."

Outside Tom spotted Martha heading up the stairs. She looked at him sympathetically, and instead of their usually shared sarcastic grins Tom responded with a forced smile.

"How is she?"

Tom sighed out. "Fine."

Martha's face fell as if to ask Tom for the truth once more. He was steadfast. "She's fine...we're fine."

"I heard you called Maggie Thatcher a—"

Tom's mouth turned sour, but he was clearly just as amused as Martha seemed to be. "I did. I guess that one's going to follow me around for awhile."

"How did Sybil take that?"

"Well she agrees with me so—"

"Tom," Martha began, deliberately cutting him off. "They're still her parents. You understand that, right? And she can say what she wants and act a certain way, but she cares and I don't think it's fair for either of us to pretend like she doesn't."

"I'm not pretending. I'm following her lead. I apologized and she got mad at me. It's like I'm not allowed to talk about it. She just wants to act like none of this is happening and…" He stuttered, like a car sputtering the longer it's dead engine was forced to run. "I don't know what to do," he shrugged in earnest.

Martha gave a small smile of her own and even moved to Tom to press a hand to his cheek. "She's lucky to have you, Tom. And I'm happy that she does. Sybil has always needed someone to challenge her and she certainly met her match when she fell in love with you. Don't give up on her now just because that's what she has asked you to do."

"But—"

Martha shook her head, ultimately causing Tom's mouth to still once more. "She's going to have to get a hell of a lot more angry before any of this gets better. And I think you need to help get her there. It's not going to be easy and it's certainly not going to be fun but she'll thank you in the end." Martha paused. "That girl is going to regret it if she doesn't say the things she has always wanted to say to them. You and Sybil have worked so hard to be where you are and she deserves to truly leave her past in London if that's what she wants. But she needs to make that decision and I don't know if she's there yet."

Tom sighed out. "She's not…" His voice trailed off but sharply turned a corner, reapproaching the situation. "Or maybe she is. She's...she's to that point. She's made the decision. She doesn't want to let go of London. I guess...I guess that scares me a bit."

"No, my boy, don't let it scare you. You may not want to believe it but the girl you fell in love with was a girl from London. Even if she does decide to cast off that world completely it'll always be within her. But she chose you and that won't change. Just know that if her parents disapprove of you, she'll side with you and won't dare apologize to them. If you're fine with that being her decision and if you're okay with Isla not knowing her grandparents or her aunts, then so be it. I think some days Sybil's fine with that too. Just know you're not as much of an outsider in all of this as you'd like to be."

Tom's shoulders deflated as he let out another sigh. He was halfway down the hallway when he heard Martha call back to him. "Oh! And Tom?" He only looked to her. "Maggie's nickname? That wasn't the only thing I heard last night. If you want to make this as easy as possible for her, I suggest you two keep it down."

~!~

It was with bright red cheeks that Tom greeted Isla. She was sitting idly, sucking on her stuffed giraffe but she stood when she saw her father enter. Many mornings were just like this one, making it easy for Tom to grab for her and get her ready for the day. As they returned to the bedroom Tom and Sybil shared, Tom nearly chuckled thinking it was likely Isla would be the most well dressed between the three of them.

When they entered it didn't take long for Sybil to approach. Her hands immediately reached out for Isla and Tom was far too enamored watching his girls together to ever feel sad at the loss of contact with his daughter. While he continued to observe them, Sybil now bouncing Isla on her hip, he noticed that beyond her nicer sleep sets, Sybil had changed completely.

"Syb? Are...are we sitting down then?"

Sybil paused, looking to him in confusion. "Huh?"

"Should I…should I change?" he asked, now pulling at his sweatpants.

"No!" she brushed off. "Why would you change?"

"Because I look homeless next to you and Isla…"

Sybil smirked. "Love, you look like we always do for breakfast."

"Yes, but you don't." He stood now and padded for the closet. "It's fine," he said, slightly begrudgingly and with a hand raised as if to block a rebuttal. "I'll change."

Sybil forced a smile. "Oh...okay." Soon the roles were reversed with Tom getting ready and Sybil and Isla waiting for him. When he emerged he looked quite smart and Sybil told him this with a strong kiss - their first of the morning. As they walked down to the kitchen, she looked to him. "I'm sorry...you didn't need to change. I guess I didn't realize that I—"

"Look like you're going to a dinner party? Yeah, well you do."

"Tom…" Sybil tried. "Are you mad at me?"

"Hardly, love. I'm just trying to do what you want to do but it seems you don't know what you want to do. One minute you don't care and the next you're taking nearly an hour to get ready. Let's just call this what it is."

Sybil stopped in the hallway. The way she held Isla on her hip made it easy for her body language to push him away. "How is it then?"

"You care, Syb! And that's okay! But let's stop pretending like you don't."

"I don't care, Tom!"

"You're not some weak person for admitting this! You're human and you have the biggest heart of anyone I know and I don't buy, even for a second, that this just isn't affecting you. Admit it is and let's confront it."

Sybil's eyes narrowed. "Did my grandmother talk to you?"

"What does that matter?"

"You weren't like this last night. Were you agreeing with me because you wanted to get laid or—"

Tom blinked — hard. Her words hit him at such an uncomfortable angle he was hesitant to open his eyes back up again. "You did not just say that…"

"You're right," she said, now beginning to walk again. "I didn't."

Outside of the kitchen the pair paused. Tom looked to Sybil, now wondering what it was he had done and how amidst all of this all he really wished to do was kiss her. If last night were any indication, she was his fiance now, and he refused to believe their first day with this new title would be filled with tension.

"I'm sorry," Sybil muttered quickly.

Tom looked to her. "Syb, it's fine, love…"

"It's not. I'm sorry. Just please say you understand because none of this is sitting well with me and I don't know how I feel about it and it's all making me feel very, very crazy."

"Syb…" Tom wanted to envelop her but the way in which her features and posture remained stoic made doing so seem out of place.

"It means a lot to me that you're here to help me and I'm sorry if I'm all over the place but I don't think I could do this without you, alright? So...so thank you."

Tom smiled. Gently he reached for her neck, pulling her toward him so he could press a kiss to her forehead. "I have excused your insanity from the day we met."

Sybil couldn't contain her amusement, even going as far as to drop her head back in laughter. "You arse," she whispered, now nudging him with her elbow as they entered the kitchen.

Inside Paolo moved about preparing breakfast for the rest of the house. He smiled at the pair and instantly asked what it was he could get them. Sybil could only manage a sweet grin, explaining rather softly that she appreciated the gesture but that they were going to prepare their own meals. Paolo shrugged and Tom watched the chef, realizing that in his world such a negation of service was almost offensive.

It did not stop Sybil from dancing around, first cutting fruit and then making Isla's oatmeal at the stove. All the while Tom had Isla on his hip. Just as soon as Sybil was done the two would trade and he'd go to making them french toast and bacon. While he did, Sybil fed Isla. Really, aside from Paolo's existence, this was a pretty typical morning.

Though Sybil insisted that they remain in the kitchen, she kept her eyes trained on the door leading out to the formal dining room. Her interest in possibly being interrupted came with intense apprehension on Tom's behalf; he bit at his toast and slowly kept his eyes trained on her, as if to ask that she remain with him and Isla.

When she finally sat back down, now with a fresh cup of coffee, she merely smiled at Tom as if to display just how oblivious her intentions were. "Did you want to go eat with them?" Tom asked simply.

Sybil smirked. "What?" she tried, feigning conviction. "No, of course not," she laughed.

"You can if you want."

"I can?" Sybil asked, pressing a hand to her breastbone. A simple cross hung from a delicate chain, a show of her new alliances, silently encouraged by the same man who'd purchased the item for her recent birthday.

Tom shook his head, scoffing off a laugh he tossed over his shoulder as he concentrated his gaze out the window on the city below.

"Why are you laughing?" Sybil demanded.

"I'm laughing because I don't know why you're lying."

"Lying?"

He laughed again. "You're even really bad at lying about lying."

"I don't know what you're on about," Sybil dismissed.

"If you want to go sit with your family then—"

"I am sitting with my family, Tom."

"Alright well if you'd like to go join your grandmother's guests in the dining room, I wouldn't mind."

"Would you come?"

Tom noticed a change in her causing him to sit back. The plate before him was practically cleared already. "I don't know if that would help."

"Well I'm certainly not facing them alone."

"Because of what I said?"

"No, because you're a big part of my life now...you are my life," she corrected adamantly. "And it wouldn't hurt to have a bit of support."

"Sybil, love, I'm always going to support you." He exhaled and leaned into her, reaching out for her hands so he could hold them in his own. "That's why I'm telling you that it's fine if you go. I'll take Isla to the park...or the library. I'm not saying it's going to be easy but it might be a good place to start. You know, without me."

"Tom…"

"I'm sure they have questions and it'll just be easier to get all of that out if I'm not there. If you want to get over this then you have to let them speak their piece. I know you have things you want to say and this might be a good way to get them out."

"If they'll let me even talk."

"Make them listen," Tom tried. He stood now and began to collect their dirty dishware. "It worked with me and I'm almost as stubborn as you."

Sybil's mouth dropped open. Even with the cup of coffee she cradled in her hands she awkwardly kicked at Tom as he walked away from the table toward the sink. They shared a laugh, one that highlighted Sybil's resolve when it finally dissipated from the air. "You're right. I'll talk to them."

~!~

Everyone stared when Sybil entered the dining room. Her appearance drained all of the humor from the room, something that became all the more pronounced when a member of Martha's staff finished clearing the table and promptly excused himself, leaving the family alone. They were all enjoying their tea and when Sybil sat down, her mug of coffee sat on the linen tablecloth in stark contrast with the porcelain of their china. She also sat with her feet tucked beneath her, with an upper body that was twisted toward the group, using the chair backing as an armrest.

"Does anyone have plans?" Sybil asked simply.

Mary looked to her sister. "No, but it seems you do," she quipped.

"Tom—"

"Where is he?" Cora inquired.

"He's taken Isla to the park."

Robert seemed confused. "The park?"

"Yeah Dad, it's that massive group of trees out that window right there…" Sybil said, pointing and then sipping at her coffee to hide her amusement. Without Tom she felt less confident in her sarcasm.

"Does he work?" Edith asked. Sybil looked to her sister, wondering if there was genuine curiosity behind her otherwise snarky question.

"No, Gram actually…" She laughed, stopping her own speech with a hand pushed through her messy curls. "Yes, he works," she tried again. "He has a very good job with The New Yorker."

"You don't have a nanny?" Cora wondered.

"No. We're trying to save for a flat so—"

"Your grandmother would pay for it, I'm sure," Robert said.

"We don't need a nanny."

"Sybil, darling, no one needs a nanny but that still doesn't mean it's not a nice thing to have. Why are you looking to move out anyway?"

Sybil blinked; she was a different sort of confused, almost as if she was a true outsider amongst people she once considered family. "This was temporary. We've already overstayed our welcome—"

"Gram's asked you to leave?" Mary tried, clearly shocked.

Sybil gave a pause. Though Tom was not here she felt his hand on her knee, encouraging patience with their ignorance. "I'm twenty four, Mary. I have a child. I'm more than capable of living on my own—"

"Yes, dear, but it's like the nanny. Why forego all of this if you don't have to?"

Sybil gave a face to show her clear disbelief at how aloof her family was. "Is it difficult for you to believe that maybe this isn't what everyone wants? I'm asking that honestly. Is it so hard to believe that not everyone wants the life you have?"

"Is it a bad life then?" Robert asked, slightly appalled.

"It's hardly a bad life and I'm glad I grew up the way I did and I'm lucky that Isla has had those same luxuries. But this isn't the life that's meant for Tom and me—"

"Is he asking that you move?"

Sybil shook her head again. "Hardly. We don't ask much of one another. He is my partner and my best friend and we make decisions together. We're both incredibly grateful for Granmama's hospitality but we'd like to build a life of our own."

"Even if it means struggling?"

"Struggling? I am sorry that your privilege makes such a thing seem so rare but most people do struggle. It's actually more common than not for families in this city to struggle. But no, it won't be a struggle. Tom has his salary and I'll have a position as soon as I graduate. We have money saved and…" Again Sybil found herself pausing, mostly for her own benefit. She felt empty, unloading all of these truths in a way that did nothing to benefit her. "He's a good man…"

"With a sharp tongue," Robert added, all with an eye roll.

"Yeah, he does," Sybil laughed, "we both do." Then: "You do too."

"Excuse me?"

"Someone who has opinions that differ from yours is not someone who is wrong."

"Sybil, the man's been in prison!"

Edith leaned in. "Is that true, Sybil?"

"It...it is. But it was a misunderstanding...and an unfortunate one at that."

"You were there?" Cora tried with a weak voice.

"Where?"

"When he killed that man…" she explained.

"He was barely a man. He couldn't have been much older than eighteen. But yes, I was. I was also there moments earlier when that same boy put a gun to someone's heart and carelessly pulled the trigger. That someone was Tom's best friend...also a good man."

"A man who goes to prison is—" Robert began.

"A man who stands up for what he believes in, no matter the consequences, is a good man, Dad," Sybil insisted through a tense jaw.

"But Sybil," Cora chided, "he's still been in prison. And he left you alone when you needed him most."

"He did no such thing! He didn't have much of a choice in the matter."

"Of course he did!" Robert laughed. "He could have calmed his temper and kept his hands off that man."

Sybil laughed too. "His temper? If you saw the things I saw, you'd think Tom's reaction was tame."

"Sybil," Cora sighed, "we told you...I just can't believe you'd go to Ireland."

"It's not some foreign place!" Sybil tossed back. "It was my home for three years!"

"Then why did you leave?"

"Tom…" Sybil thought of her declaration only moments before. "Tom asked me to."

Mary scoffed. "And you listened to him? I thought you two never asked anything of one another..."

"It wasn't safe for me there."

"See!" Robert pointed. "It's not safe!"

"Well you've made it that way! If people came into your home and demanded you live a certain way I think you'd find yourself to be a bit miffed as well."

"Miffed?"

"Did you know that the men on the street can just request a search anytime they'd like? Of your home or your vehicle or your person...how is that civilized? And why? Because we're different?"

Robert leaned in, stunned. "We?" He let out a breathy laugh in disbelief. "Are you one of them now?"

"I'm not Irish but my daughter and her father are so I might as well be. And Tom and I are raising Isla Catholic—"

Robert coughed, nearly choking on his mouthful of hot tea. "What was that?"

"We are. I don't know why that's much of a shock. We never went to church if it wasn't a holiday."

"And you go now?" Edith tried.

"We do. Every weekend. It's a big part of who Tom is and that's important to me."

"So you're Catholic now?" Cora clarified.

"I'd say I am, yes. There are classes I have to take if we want to be married in a Catholic church and I know we will so I'll have to do those, but—"

"Sybil, why are you so quick to give up who you are?" Mary asked simply.

Sybil's gaze narrowed. "Who I am? Do any of you actually know who I am? Or who I was?" She tossed out a laugh coated in offense. "I don't know if I knew who I was. That was the problem. I couldn't...I couldn't breathe," Sybil insisted, now with tears coating her eyes. "I literally felt like I was suffocating. I couldn't figure out who I was because I was so busy trying to be what you wanted. All I knew was that all of that...the gowns and the fundraisers and the parties...that's not what I wanted. And the only way for me to figure it out was to leave. That's it."

"And you figured it out in Ireland then?"

"I did. Some of it. And I'm still figuring it out. But I like my life now. I'm proud of my life and what I've done and who I've become."

"You're proud that you've had a daughter before marriage?"

"I'm proud to mother a beautiful baby girl, yes."

"Was she planned?" Cora asked. Her eyes were still so wide Sybil wondered how long she'd take to recover from this conversation alone.

"No," Sybil gave — boldly but with rouged cheeks. "And Tom didn't know about her. I didn't want him to worry."

"Why? You spent time worrying about him, no doubt!"

"I did. I still worry about him. He's experienced things I can't even begin to understand. But he was a victim of circumstance. There was no sense in giving him news if he couldn't be there for it either way."

"Why didn't you have the child in Ireland then?"

"I told you," Sybil gave through gritted teeth, "that Tom didn't want me in Ireland."

"If he loves it so much you'd think he'd want to keep you there."

"He loves what it used to be, not what it is now. It's unfortunate to see what we've done to their culture."

"So you're back on our side now?" Mary sassed.

"There are no sides!" Sybil nearly yelled. "There shouldn't be! There should just be people living the life they want to live without other people meddling."

Robert's fist clenched upon the table. "You don't know what you're talking about, Sybil. He's brainwashed you."

"Ha!" Sybil let out in jest. "Here we go again, Dad! I must be crazy to disagree with you."

"You must be crazy to—"

Sybil stood up and abruptly pushed her chair in. "Any other questions?" When no one said anything she turned back to her father. "I know I said that it's right and fair for people to have differing opinions but I think this is one situation in which I can confidently tell you that you are wrong. You don't even get to have an opinion here. It's not your country. It's not your religion. You don't know the people and you certainly don't know the culture. And worst of all, you don't care to learn any of it! Even if it's something that your daughter deems important, and I do! This is who I am, Dad! Like it or not, this is who I want to be and this is the life I want to lead. I'm going to do it with or without your permission. I don't even ask for your understanding. But if you want to be a part of it...if you want to see your granddaughter...I'm going to ask that you at least respect it."

I KNOW it's been forever since I've updated this and I'm sorry! I've had some of this written but I got carried away with the momentum of Faith in Fate. These chapters are also meant to be far longer than FiF's so that factored in as well. Anyway! Sorry it was late - thanks for reading - go review now maybe?

x. Elle