Note: So little plot, so much time on my hands (er, but not really).

Thomas stood in Jimmy's room, late in the night, staring at an ink drawing that hung on his wall as Jimmy changed for bed. The picture portrayed a man in shirt sleeves sitting at a table, but only from the mouth down. It focused on his hands; the left was raised and his forefinger rested on his lip in a thoughtful attitude, while the right lay palm up on the table as if in supplication.

"I don't know how you can be so calm," Jimmy said behind him just as his livery shirt hit the wall beside the picture.

"You'll write her a letter," Thomas said, and turned to around. "Lady Anstruther. Tell her as many details as you can bear. She knew there was something between you and Jeffrey and that his father disapproved. She ought to know better than to bring him here. Tell her to invite her Ladyship up there if they must visit."

"She's naïve," Jimmy argued. "She always has been. She never did understand Jeffrey's madness."

"You're going to have to convince her," Thomas said firmly. He walked up and rested his hands on Jimmy's' shoulders, giving them a brief squeeze. "I'll help you. And if that doesn't work, we'll think of something else. It's going to be alright. I promise." Jimmy nodded. He paused and stepped into an embrace, wrapping his arms around Thomas.

"I'm glad you're here," Jimmy murmured, clinging to him. "Obviously, you're here, but I mean...like this."

"Of course," Thomas said. He rested his chin on Jimmy's shoulder and they stood locked together for so long that he started to wonder if Jimmy was falling asleep on his feet. Finally, Jimmy pulled away and turned, glancing around the room. He picked up the laundry he had been tossing around a moment before.

"Are you tired?" Jimmy said, fidgeting with the wrinkled shirt in his hands. "Or could you stay for a bit? Just to sit."

Thomas smiled and said, "I think I could manage it." He sat on the bed and went about lighting a cigarette, if only for something to do. Jimmy put his clothes away and sat up at the head of the bed.

"There's enough room up here," Jimmy said softly. There really wasn't, but they sat scrunched together anyhow. Jimmy sighed and leaned his head against the wall. "Lord, tell me somethin' funny, would you?"

Put on the spot, Thomas couldn't think of a thing and blew a puff of smoke before saying, "Somethin' funny... Well, Alfred still fancies Ivy and Ivy still fancies you a little."

Jimmy snorted. "That's absurd. But I don't know how funny it is. Tell me somethin' funny about you."

"Me?" Thomas couldn't think of anything about himself that he considered funny. But he said, "I hid Isis once."

"You...huh?" Jimmy frowned at him in the low light.

"I hid Isis. In a shed. In the woods. A couple years ago." Thomas smoked and his cheeks warmed. It was such a ridiculous story.

"Why would you do that?"

"The war was over," Thomas said. "I didn't have a place at Downton and I wanted to get on his Lordship's good side. I hid the dog so I could find her again. Only someone else found her first. I didn't know that though. I went mad trying to find her. Came back in a state, but his Lordship was impressed anyhow and none the wiser. So...it worked."

Jimmy stared at him fixedly and then burst out laughing. He laughed so hard, he had to cover his mouth to keep the noise down. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Jimmy whispered, when his guffawing finally faded to a chuckle.

"Oh, thanks ever so," Thomas muttered. "I don't think Isis has ever looked at me the same since."

That brought a fresh peal of laughter and Jimmy slipped down on the bed so his head was nestled against Thomas's shoulder. Thomas fought a smile; he hadn't seen Jimmy laugh since before Jeffrey's Anstruther's visit.

"Maybe you're a bastard after all," Jimmy said. "That's good. I'm a bastard too."

"I doubt that very much," Thomas said.

"I am. But... Well, you must be disappointed," Jimmy said seriously. He turned over on his side and leaned on his elbow, gazing up at Thomas with frightened eyes. "You probably had all these ideas about me. About my past or-"

"If I did they were stupid assumptions," Thomas said. He took a drag and blew the smoke out pensively. "The more I know of you, the more I love you. And don't give me any rubbish about how I shouldn't."

Jimmy nodded, as if trying to work out some difficult arithmetic, and lay back down. But he rested his head on Thomas's chest. Jimmy raised his arm and it hovered uncertainly for a moment before holding Thomas around his middle.

"I have a past too, ya know," Thomas said quietly, and he shifted his right arm under Jimmy so he could hold him. "Not eager to tell you about it. It would make your hair stand on end." He put his cigarette in a saucer on the nightstand and Jimmy took the opportunity to take his hand; his left. He wasn't wearing his glove and Jimmy traced over the scars. "It's awful, isn't it?" Thomas said.

"No," Jimmy whispered. "Everyone has scars."

"S'pose they do." Perhaps it was Jimmy's comment that made him think of the drawing on the wall, and he said, "Did Jeffrey do that picture of you?" He nodded at the drawing.

"Yeah," Jimmy said, and smiled a little. "How do ya know it's me?"

"I'd know your hands anywhere," Thomas said simply, and their fingers played with each other. "And your mouth."

"I'd know yours too," Jimmy said, sounding mischievous. "Especially your mouth."

"Oh really?"

Jimmy sat up to face Thomas. He reached up to run his fingers along Thomas's lips. His lips twitched and Jimmy's parted as if in answer. "Your mouth is wicked. I've dreamed about your mouth."

"Are you flirting with me?" Thomas said.

"Yeah."

"About time."

Jimmy kissed him sweetly, as if testing the waters. But it went no further, he just rested his forehead against Thomas's. They stayed like for a while and it might've been awkward, except that never in his life had Thomas felt closer to someone than in that moment. Though they had just been speaking lightly, something had shifted in Jimmy's kiss and in the way he was content to remain there in Thomas's arms.

If he hurts you, I'll kill him, Thomas thought. He was capable of such a thing. He knew that about himself.

"You've always been there, haven't you?" Jimmy said. "I've been so stupid."

"No," Thomas said, and stroked his hair. "You've gone through a lot. More than I can imagine."

"But I did hurt you," Jimmy argued in whispers. "Thomas, I'm so sorry. You have to know that, please-"

"It's alright." He squeezed Jimmy's hand. "I know. Just lie down, won't you? You should probably get some sleep. You look tired."

"Are you going?" Jimmy said, clearly distraught.

"I'll stay til you fall asleep," Thomas said. "If you want me to."

"Yes. Stay." Jimmy lay down, but he held onto Thomas, who sat up and leaned his head back against the wall, worrying about Lord Anstruther.. Jimmy was quiet for a few minutes and then he whispered, "Thomas..."

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

The next day, Thomas couldn't help but notice that Jimmy's eyes sought his whenever one of them entered a room to find the other there. He was sure he wasn't imagining the way Jimmy relaxed a little if Thomas gave him a nod or a smile. That night, they squirreled away in Thomas's room to write the letter to Lady Anstruther.

"Dear Lady Anstruther," Jimmy muttered, as he sat at the desk with a pen in his hand. "Your brother once stuck a pistol in my mouth. Please reconsider your holiday."

"So you're takin' the direct approach then?" Thomas said dryly. Jimmy snorted in response, but he went about writing his letter as Thomas smoked and paced behind him.

He waited, hearing the occasional rustle of stationary. He waited and waited.

"You're not done yet?" He finally said, after his third cigarette.

"Don't rush me," Jimmy mumbled. A few minutes later, he handed Thomas his letter; six pages double-sided. Thomas noted that Jimmy's penmanship was neat but angular, though as the letter went on, the writing became a little slanted and distorted.

"You address her as Agatha," Thomas said with some surprise.

"That's what I used to call her," Jimmy said.

Thomas read on. The letter spoke of Jimmy's grief over Jeffrey and his condolences for Lady Anstruther and her brother. But the tone shifted abruptly into pleading with her not to come to Downton and told the story of his confrontation with her brother.

I'm sorry to be the one to inform you of your brother's true nature...

I was certain he would kill me right then...

He said he would not let my perversions be the ruin of the Anstruther estate...

Reading the letter made his stomach turn a little and he absent-mindedly reached out to touch Jimmy's shoulder, as if to make certain he was still actually at Downton and alive.

"You didn't mince words, did you?" Thomas muttered. He was more than a little impressed by Jimmy's boldness.

"I-I don't know," Jimmy stuttered. He rose and fidgeted, half-sitting on the desk. "Is it too much? Should I-"

"No. She needs to the know the truth. You should scare her."

"I just hope it convinces her."

Thomas put the letter down and took Jimmy's hand in his. "I know it's frightening for you."

"It is. But... I feel a bit better." He tugged Thomas closer and gazed up shyly. "Now I've told you about it. No, a lot better."

"Good." Thomas smiled and Jimmy pulled him yet closer for a kiss. Thomas started to break away but Jimmy pressed in and their tongues met. "Thomas..."

"Ah, I don't know if that's a good idea," Thomas said, and took a step back.

"I know what you said before." Jimmy stood up straight and played with the sleeve of his pajamas. "But it's different now. I... I wasn't just talkin' in my sleep last night." Thomas looked up sharply. "And didn't you say you weren't letting me off?"

"I know, but..." Thomas swallowed and fixed his eyes on the floor. He couldn't manage to look Jimmy in the eye. "Maybe you do love me, yeah. Or maybe you just need somebody right now. And I would understand that-"

"No, you don't understand," Jimmy said, taking a step closer. He cradled Thomas's cheek in his hand. "I've been falling for you for a long time."

"Yeah?" Thomas said. "How long? Thirsk fair?"

Jimmy's thumb pulled at Thomas's lip. "Why do ya you think I was always lookin'' at you? Told ya... That's why I was so nasty. Anyway. Long before then." He kissed Thomas along his jaw down to his neck. "You and I together? It should've been different." Thomas pulled Jimmy closer and let his eyes close, inhaling that glorious scent. It was his brand of pomade or something. Whatever it was made Thomas a little delirious. "It should've been slow and...burning," Jimmy whispered, his breath was warm on Thomas's skin. "And sweet. All at once. Let me show you... Let me show you how it should've been."

Naked and on his back atop the pitifully small bed, Thomas looked up into a pair of blue eyes that glimmered in the low light.

Jimmy said, "You love me."

"You know I do," Thomas said. Jimmy was bracing himself, hovering above him, and Thomas ran his hands up Jimmy's arms, curling his thumbs into the tensed muscles.

"Tell me I love you," Jimmy said.

It took Thomas a moment to realize what he meant and he said, "You love me." Any insecurities that might've prevented belief in his own words went away when he saw Jimmy's expression.

He really does love me, Thomas thought. How did I manage that?

Jimmy lowered his head and as he spoke, Thomas felt the barest brush of his lips feather-light on his collar bone. "Say it again."

"You love me."

The deliberateness of his soft kisses seemed ceremonial, and then Jimmy pressed his mouth over Thomas's heart as if that were his only true purpose. His hair was thick between Thomas's fingers; slightly stiff from whatever that lovely smelling stuff was that he used in it.

"When you say it, it sounds so good," Jimmy said. "Like it could never be wrong."

Thomas tipped Jimmy's head up. "It isn't. Does any part of this feel wrong to you?"

Thomas was afraid Jimmy was about to start weeping just then, but he only shook his head and said, "No."

"Then kiss me."

Jimmy did take his time. Thomas thought he would go mad at every touch; fingers raking though his chest hair as Jimmy nuzzled his neck, their hardened pricks sliding against each other. And later, after they had rolled over and he was inside Jimmy, he thought perhaps he had gone mad. Because this was too good. Too perfect. Jimmy whispered his name over and over like he was attempting some enchantment and Thomas was brought back to the moment; it was real. He thrust in again, slowly, and leaned forward mouthing along Jimmy's cheeks and under his chin, tasting his sweaty skin.

"Thomas... Thomas..."

"You love me," Thomas breathed.

"Aaah... Yes... I love you..."

It was different, as different as it could be. It wasn't like a first time either, but it did feel like a consummation of sorts and afterward Jimmy was kissing his fingers as they faced each other in the bed, his hand on Thomas's hip as visions of every derisive expression Jimmy had ever cast him following the illicit kiss took on a different meaning in Thomas's mind. And he remembered everything.

Can't a red-blooded man compliment a pretty girl?

I'll go if there's a crowd, of course, but not otherwise.

I can never give you what you want.

"I'll give you everything now," Jimmy muttered. Thomas thought for wild moment that he had actually read his mind. "I want you to know everything about me. And I want to know everything about you."

"You won't think me so brave and good if I do that," Thomas said lightly.

Jimmy chuckled and said, "I think you're brave because you're not ashamed of who you are. I used to think that was foolish."

"And now you don't?"

"Well..." Jimmy played with a tendril of Thomas's hair. "I don't feel so afraid now I'm with you."

"I hate to ruin things, but in a bit you should probably go back your room," Thomas said. "But...not yet."

Jimmy groaned and kissed him. "It was the nightingale and not the lark," he said. "Believe me, love, it was the nightingale."

"Shakespeare?" Thomas rose an eyebrow. "I'm impressed. But I'd rather we don't end up like Romeo and Juliet."

"It's rubbish," Jimmy said. "All that tragedy over some slow post."

"From what I recall there was more to it than that," Thomas said, laughing. He rolled over onto his back and took a cigarette from the pack on his nightstand. "Star crossed lovers and all," he said as he lit up.

"Our sort's always star-crossed," Jimmy mumbled, snuggling up to him.

Thomas stuck the cigarette in his mouth and picked up Jimmy's left hand to put his own against it. Funny how Jimmy was left-handed and it was Thomas's left that was wounded. "And palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss," he said softly. "Stuff crossed stars. I don't believe in astrology."

A week later they were at breakfast when Jimmy received a letter from Lady Anstruther. It had been a glorious week during which Thomas sometimes felt dizzy whenever Jimmy smiled at him, yet still the anxiety over the question of Anstruther loomed. Jimmy had experienced a couple of his spells, having worked himself into a state worrying. But Thomas was always there to talk him down. A few times he had woken up in the night to Jimmy crawling into bed with him.

"I'll go back in a bit," Jimmy would whisper. "I need you near me now."

Thomas sipped his tea, glancing at Jimmy as he read his letter. Anna was saying something about Ireland but he'd stopped listening. When Jimmy clutched his arm, he almost spat in surprise, but no one else had noticed the gesture.

"They're coming," Jimmy whispered. "They're still coming."

"After all that?"

"She says he wants to see the place Jeffrey..." Jimmy mumbled and blinked. His hands were shaking. "He knows. He must know-"

"Shhh, careful," Thomas warned.

Jimmy nodded and said, "I know. I know, sorry." Under the table, he tightly gripped Thomas's hand.

Thomas expected fear or spells that day, or for Jimmy to lash out again. What he didn't expect, as they stood huddled in the hallway later, was for Jimmy to become so determined.

"We'll get you out of here before the Anstruthers arrive," Thomas said in a low voice, smoking furiously. "We'll say you have a sick cousin. Anything. They'll survive less one footman. I'll fill in."

"No..." Jimmy was staring over Thomas's shoulder, so intensely that Thomas glanced back to see if there was anything worth staring at. "No, I'm not goin' to run."

"It's not running," Thomas argued. Though he wasn't clear on his own logic, as technically, it was running. "Or we could ring her up, perhaps if she heard your voice... Unless you're willing to tell Lord Grantham-"

"Huh, no," Jimmy said with a snort. "I'm not doin' that either. Anstruther knows I'm here. She didn't say so, but I can feel it. He won't be satisfied until he's seen me."

Or killed you, Thomas thought, and a chill ran up his spine. It was himself he was keen on protecting. Because certainly nobody was laying a finger on Jimmy Kent as long as he was alive. He was content to throw himself in the line of fire if it came to that. He'd done it before after all. The wounds had barely healed. He touched the little scar on his lip.

They were standing close together and when Mr. Carson appeared from around a corner, Thomas took a step back.

"Cozy?" Mr. Carson said darkly. Thomas's stomach tightened. Had they been so obvious?

Jimmy's head snapped up and he said, "If you've got somethin' you'd like to say, Mr. Carson, you ought to just say it."

Thomas and Mr. Carson stared at him, gobsmacked. Mr. Carson only cleared his throat and, narrowing his eyes, said in his thundering voice, "You've got work to do, James. Remember that occupation for which you are compensated? Work?"

Mr. Carson walked on and Thomas said, "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"No," Jimmy said, smiling grimly. "I've just made up my mind. I don't believe in astrology either."

Thomas almost felt as if their positions had switched as, over the course of the week, Jimmy was often the one calming him down. They debated the situation constantly. Thomas used every rhetorical device at his disposal to make Jimmy disappearing for a bit sound like anything other than cowardice.

"It's survival," he said, sitting up in bed one night. "I believe in survival, you know. That's why I've got the glove." He held up his wounded hand and wiggled his fingers.

"No comparison," Jimmy huffed. "You could've lost your hand doin' that. And it wasn't on the first day. Bloody two years in the trenches? I wouldn't have lasted a week."

"This isn't a war, Jimmy," Thomas said, immediately contradicting himself.

"It's my war."

Then the day arrived as stubbornly as did the Anstruthers to Downton and Jimmy to his place between Alfred and Thomas in front of the great house when the motor pulled up. Thomas gave Jimmy a slight shake of the head when he started to take a step forward, and went himself along with Alfred to open the doors. Thomas helped out Lady Anstruther, noting that the she looked a good ten years older than the last time he had seen her, her face drawn. She was all in black. She nodded her thanks to Thomas and went straight to Lady Grantham, who murmured a welcome and embraced her. Alfred opened the door for Lord Charles Anstruther and Thomas walked as quickly as he could around the car without running, back to his place next to Jimmy.

Jimmy had only described Charles Anstruther as "intimidating." Thomas had imagined a large man, though Jeffrey had been thin and of average height. Yet Lord Anstruther was no taller than Thomas and of a slighter frame. But Thomas now new what Jimmy meant by intimidating. Lord Anstruther had grey and silver hair worn a little longish below the ears. His eyes were dark above narrow cheeks and a determined chin. There was something terribly severe about him. He carried himself like he might be commanding an army at any moment. He wore a black suit and held a thin black walking stick with the silver head of jaguar at its top. It was hard to imagine such a man producing someone like Jeffrey.

Lord and Lady Grantham greeted him, giving their utmost condolences and Lord Anstruther addressed them warmly. But Thomas saw his eyes go straight to Jimmy, who stood stock still, eyes fixed ahead, his brow furrowed.

Thomas took his place next to Carson and gauged Charles Anstruther.

Yes, I could beat him to within an inch of his life, Thomas decided. Easily.

"Downton is at your disposal, my dear fellow," Lord Grantham said. "We only hope you find some measure of respite here."

"I'm sure I will," Lord Anstruther said. His voice was deep and grave, his hard gaze still cast in Jimmy's direction. "I'm sure I'll find just what I've been looking for."