Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

I feel I'm putting these characters through the mill, but things must get worse before they can get better! :D

Thanks again for the reviews! They make me write faster & it's much more fun doing this than the history essay I should be writing :D x

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Sybil woke up with the familiar feeling of dread she'd had ever since Branson had told her he had enlisted. Today was the day he was set to leave, and she still couldn't bring herself to accept it. She had heard her father wanted everyone, both the family and all the downstairs staff, to send Branson off. Her father had been to war and knew what Branson, along with Thomas and William, had signed up for, and he knew the dangers as well. It wasn't a comforting thought. Sybil wasn't particularly happy at this arrangement as she wanted to say goodbye to him personally, though she supposed she could still do that. As she would be unlikely to run into him before he left, she decided to slip out and find him. She supposed he would most likely be in his cottage, but decided to pass through the kitchens on her way in case he happened to be there instead.

Branson wasn't too fond of everyone sending him off. He'd prefer it if he could say goodbye to everyone separately, but he could not say no after Lord Grantham had informed him what he had planned. He supposed he would do both; say goodbye to everyone separately, then have the whole unnecessary procession. Thomas had received the same treatment, though Branson hoped people would be slightly less glad to see him go than they were the footman, and William was remaining at Downton a week more before he left.

Branson had been worrying about leaving all morning. Not because he was concerned about what lay in store for him at war, though that would probably come to him later, but rather how he was going to say goodbye to Sybil. He doubted they would get a chance to talk alone, so he considered writing a letter to give to her before he left. He was pulled out of his reverie by a knock on the door, and upon opening it his worries disappeared as he was confronted with Sybil on his doorstep.

"Lady Sybil" he stated, pleasantly surprised by her appearance.

"Please Tom, you know me well enough, and you won't be working for Papa soon, just Sybil will do" she replied with a smile.

He couldn't help but notice her use of his first name again and it sent his mind racing at what it meant. He noticed she seemed unsure of herself, and gestured for her to come inside.

"I- I came to say goodbye" she began, whilst heading further into the cottage, "I hope that's alright, I-"

"Of course it is", Branson interjected, watching as she removed her hat and placed it on the side table. There was a slight pause, so Branson continued, "So are you still knitting for the war effort?" he asked light-heartedly.

"Oh, yes, Mama is getting quite into it, though I must admit I'm quite dreadful at it"

Branson couldn't help but give a short laugh, "Well I hope some get sent my way".

This seemed to bring Sybil back down to earth and she realised why she was there. Not for a light-hearted conversation, but to tell him how she felt.

Unbeknownst to her, Branson wanted to do the same thing.

"You'll write to me, won't you?" Sybil asked.

Branson was surprised, "If you'd like me to"

"Yes, I would", she said, giving him a warm smile that made his stomach flip, a smile that no one could possibly refuse.

"Then of course I will" he replied, overjoyed at her request. Her presence made him think about the two of them. He knew how he felt; she was the one person he looked forward to going to work for, the one who he loved talking politics with, and teaching her a thing or two at the same time. She treated him like an equal, rather than a servant, and he knew he would genuinely miss seeing her when he left. But how she felt towards him was entirely unknown to him. Was it possible she felt the same way?

She was a mere step from him, but in reality she was a world away.

He knew full well he'd set his sights too high when it came to Sybil, but despite this he still found himself reaching for her. His head and his heart were engaged in a constant battle; his head kept telling him to give up, that she was too good for him and nothing could ever happen, yet his heart urged him on, telling him there wasn't much time and he should take the chance.

"I wish you didn't have to go" she said softly.

Her words made his decision for him. He chose his heart.

Before he let himself think about the consequences of his actions, how she would react or what would happen to either of them if someone found out, he brought his lips down to hers. It was his last chance to show her how he felt. He may never come back and she needed to know how much she meant to him, even if nothing could ever come of it. He knew it was improper, against the rules of society, but in that moment he didn't care. His heart soared when she didn't resist, her hands reaching up to his neck to pull him closer.

Sybil was just about to tell him everything, she wasn't sure how she was going to put it, but she was going to say something, anything. And then he kissed her. She was surprised at first, but soon gave in. She realised it was the perfect way to tell him how she felt, and now she knew he felt the same as well. She put everything she couldn't put into words into that one kiss. At least now things were out in the open between them. It wasn't like anything else had changed, they still wouldn't be allowed to be together, but right then, in that moment, anything seemed possible.

In that moment their class differences were forgotten.

It was then, and only then, that Sybil finally accepted the fact that he was leaving and that they may never see each other again.

He broke away and looked into her eyes. A small tear left a trail down her left cheek and he wiped it away. Matching his gaze with her own, she reached out her hands to his.

"Promise me you'll come back" she pleaded, "for me".

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and nodded.

"I promise"