Thank you, everyone, for all of your nice comments on the last chapter, which was a huge challenge to put together. Thank you, also, for your patience. I didn't mean to let so much time lapse between updates, but I ended up catching a wave of inspiration for my rewrite of season one period AU fic, If Things Were Different and that took my attention for a while.
As much as I have enjoyed writing this story, I have to say that this is the second to last chapter of this fic (probably, although I never really know for sure until I've typed "THE END"). I hope it's been an enjoyable read!
The next month went by in a whirlwind.
Tom was increasingly busy at the journal, with work ramping up on the HG Bank story, leaving less of his free time available for Sybil, who was getting increasingly frustrated despite how often she'd found herself "resorting" to Tom's photo for release.
Making matters worse, Edna had managed to find a boyfriend, and knowing full well that Sybil was in love with Tom but could not yet act on it, Edna took special pleasure in regaling Sybil with tales of her own sexual escapades any time Sybil came within ten feet of her.
"It's just such a lovely feeling to be truly sexually satisfied, but I guess you wouldn't know about that, would you, Nurse Crawley, what with having to keep your hands to yourself lest you get sacked."
If Sybil didn't enjoy her job so much, she might have punched the smug expression off Edna's face.
On a couple of occasions, in her regular meetings with Nurse James, she had come this close to asking for a reassignment for Tom, but she stopped herself, not wanting a change in status at this point, when he was so busy, to confuse things or to distract him from work that she knew was deeply important to him. So she soldiered on, trying to work as much magic as she could on that stubborn knee that continued to give him trouble.
Tom was no less frustrated than Sybil, but his work was taking up so much more of his attention that he had less and less time to think about how much he wanted her.
Michael Gregson and Cameron Foster had set out a plan. If they played their cards right, Tom's story could be the biggest story of the year and officially put the fledgling journal on the map. But if they took a misstep and Martin Grey found out about what they were doing before anything had gone up on the website, Martin's lawyers would get a preliminary injunction and the story might die in the ensuing court battle and never see the light of day. Their timing had to be perfect.
First, Tom, with help from Helen and Della, had to document and write the main story detailing exactly how HG Bank's suspect trade had been done; they looked into any additional evidence they could find supporting the charge of insider trading, as well as into evidence of other illegal trades. The first draft was written, re-written, edited, re-written again and edited again until Michael and Cameron—along with the journal's lawyers—were satisfied that the journalism and the facts were unassailable. That piece done and ready to post online at a moment's notice, Pete set to work on investigating what FSA had known about the trade and what, if anything, had been done about it, while Dan reached out to Elizabeth through Sally to ask if she might convince her son to give them an interview. If either Pete or Dan's efforts resulted in Martin Grey finding out that the journal was investigating him, Tom, Della and Helen's piece would go up immediately. Once it was up, Cameron and Gregson would defend the story in TV interviews, acting as a buffer for the reporters.
Pete made some headway in his efforts—enough for a short sidebar on the FSA's inaction—but he and Michael eventually agreed that a more substantial piece would have to wait until they could share their findings with FSA, and they wouldn't do that until the story was already online. So they were waiting on Dan.
Dan spent three weeks sweet talking Sally into sharing where Elizabeth was and how he could contact her, but despite the looseness of Sally's lips when it came to sharing gossip about the men in the family, the young secretary was deeply loyal to the woman who had taken a chance on her and would not divulge anything regarding her whereabouts or contact information. She did confirm that Larry had gone out of the country, but she said that he had returned two weeks prior. On hearing that news, Michael checked with his police source and learned that the Grey lawyers were working on quashing the hit and run charge that had led him to flee the country. Larry's return meant that despite the initial threat of arrest, the police obviously weren't keeping tabs on him. It also meant that once Dan made contact, tracking him down for an interview would be easier.
The day that the main story was finished was a Wednesday. The following morning Dan called Sally again first thing, and this time told her why he wanted to talk to Elizabeth.
"We have a story ready to publish that accuses Larry Grey of insider trading in his position as fund manager at HG Bank. We want to talk to him before we go live with it because we believe he's not the actual culprit. We think Mrs. Grey will be able to convince him to protect himself by talking to us."
Thirty minutes later, Dan got a phone call from Elizabeth. Worried about her son and confident as to his innocence ("I hate to use this as a defense, but I doubt he's stepped into that office once in five years."), Elizabeth agreed to meet Dan in the lobby of a London hotel later that morning and to persuade Larry to come without telling him why.
"How are you going to do that, if I may ask?" Dan asked.
"I'm going to tell him I plan to divorce his father."
"Will he believe you?"
"He'll have to. It's the truth."
Dan scrambled the team and he, Tom and a transcriber headed over to the hotel to prepare. They rented two rooms, side by side. Dan would invite the Greys into one, while Tom and the transcriber in the other would be listening through a hidden device.
When Elizabeth arrived, Dan was waiting for her in the lobby. Seeing her alone, he worried that the plan would fail, but the truth was it had gotten rather easier. Larry was passed out drunk in the back of his car, so Dan and Larry's driver brought him into the hotel room where they waited for him to sober up. When he woke up, of course, Larry realized he was trapped. And when feeling trapped, Larry's instinct had always been to blame everyone but himself, so he wasted no time in telling all—in greater detail than his mother had realized he'd ever been privy to—about his father's financial misdeeds.
When Dan got to the questions specifically regarding his illegal trade, Larry admitted that his father used his account to deliberately lose money as a way to help cook the books, which was why Larry had never had a bonus. Many trades had been made with his personnel ID number, but they were always supposed to be losing ones.
"The rest of the managers were just supposed to assume that I was crap at my job and only held it because he was my father. They didn't question the fact I was never there."
"What was different about this trade? Why would he leave the bonus money in the pool account?"
"Nobody knows how much money is in the pool account at any given time. It's set up that way so that no manager takes more than he knows he's entitled to. My guess is my father made the trade from that account and forgot the bonus would kick into the pool automatically. None of the other managers would ever know it was there. I didn't know it was there until I got a letter from one of the accountants at the end of the fiscal year."
"Why didn't you take it out right away?"
Larry smirked. "I was saving it for rainy day."
With that he stood up, lit a cigarette and said to his mother, "I'll be at the bar, waiting for you to call me a lawyer," then left the room.
Elizabeth sat on the bed and quietly began to cry. It was several minutes before she opened her eyes and when she did, Dan had gone and Tom was sitting next to her.
"What . . . what are you doing here?"
"I'm the lead reporter on this story."
"Do you mean you were spying on us? Before, when you were driving for Larry?"
"No. It's actually all just a big coincidence," Tom said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I did that before I started this job—this story just happened to be my first assignment."
"Oh." Elizabeth didn't know what to think. She might have felt anger at Tom if she didn't feel so sad about everything else. At a previous point in her life, she was the kind of person that would have blamed her son's impending troubles on the young man before her. Now, she knew better. Having watched Larry, still half-drunk, recount remorselessly the crimes of his father, she realized just how deeply he had fallen, and it was nobody's fault but his.
A fresh set of tears began to fall. She felt Tom's hand on her arm and opened her eyes again to see him offering a handkerchief. "Thank you."
"I want you to know that I will keep my promise and won't go to the police regarding the night at the club, but I'd like you to promise me something."
"What's that?"
"That whatever your husband tries to do to me, you'll do everything you can to keep him away from my family."
She smiled through her tears. "I will. But he won't have time to come after you."
"What makes you say that?"
"If you think he'll have his hands full with the government after this comes out, it's because you haven't met the lawyer who'll be handling my divorce."
Tom smiled. "Well, for your sake, I hope it's a quick one."
Then, Tom stood and went back next-door to help Dan finish writing up the story.
XXX
As Dan and Tom were writing furiously to try to finish the interview piece before the evening newscasts, Sybil was wrapping up things at work. Usually, when he was home early, Tom would text her to let her know in case she wanted to meet up. She hadn't heard from him yet today, so when a group from the hospital invited her out for a drink to help celebrate the birthday of a fellow nurse, Sybil had no reason to say no.
They'd gone to a small pub near the hospital and pulled three large tables together to accommodate the large group. She'd been there for about fifteen minutes when she saw, to her surprise, Nurse James arrive, wave to the group and head over to the bar to buy herself a pint. Sybil went to her to say hello.
"I didn't know you were coming," Sybil said with a smile.
"Well, I don't have much of a taste for beer anymore, but once in a while it's not bad. Besides, it's nice to spend time with everyone outside the hospital. Nice reminder we're real people not just workhorses."
Sybil laughed.
"Speaking of, you've been putting in a lot of hours lately."
"I have three new patients this month, and I want to make sure I've started them off on the right foot."
Nurse James smiled. It was easy to see what a conscientious worker Sybil was. Nurse James sometimes wished some of her other girls took the work as seriously.
The bartender brought over pints for both Sybil and Nurse James. "Oh, did you order me one? You didn't have to."
Nurse James smiled. "Don't they say it's never good to drink alone?"
"Well, thank you."
The two women clinked their glasses and took a drink.
"How is Mr. Branson doing?"
Sybil hesitated. "Good. Two days a week now. Just working on strengthening the ligament, which is being stubborn. Shoulder is good as new."
"What about the other thing?"
"What other thing?" Sybil asked, a bit nervous as to what she might be referring.
"I do remember having to warn you regarding fraternization with patients."
"Nothing's happened, I swear it!" Sybil blushed as the words came out of her mouth.
Nurse James narrowed her eyes at her.
Sybil covered her face with her hands. "OK, we snogged once, but that was necessary in the context of the conversation."
To Sybil's utter shock, instead of reprimanding her, Nurse James burst our laughing.
"If it's only been once, then both of you have greater control than I imagined you would."
"I don't understand," Sybil said nervously.
"I think it's a noble thing, you wanting to see to someone you care about, but I can't help but notice that in the last few weeks, it's made you a bit frustrated—and I don't mean sexually frustrated, though given the young man's looks I could understand if you were—I mean, frustrated that you want to live your life fully but you can't. I know that I gave you my permission to do this at the beginning and that I told you to wait when he reinjured his shoulder, but I've come to reconsider because it's obvious that while you liked him then, you love him now. Nurse Crawley, you're young, but nobody has forever. Don't wait around following my rules. If he's what you want, then be with him. I think you'll find he'll heal much faster with you as his girl instead of his nurse."
Sybil smiled gratefully. "So you'll reassign him?"
"First thing tomorrow."
With that, Nurse James lifter her pint once again, and Sybil clinked it with hers before taking a long pull. Once she was done with her drink, Sybil said her goodbyes. She had a special night to get ready for.
She was still on the Tube on the way home she saw his text.
"Check the website, then meet me at pub across the street from the journal office."
When she got to her stop, she ran all the way to her flat, opened up her computer and saw it.
"The Great Swindle" by Financial Columnist Tom Branson, with additional reporting by Peter Cheng, Dan Foster, Della Smith and Helen Stegger.
Sybil squealed seeing his name and title. She read the first four paragraphs, then scrolled down the lengthy article and decided to save the reading of it for later. She needed to see him as soon as possible.
XXX
The entire newsroom had been abuzz since Tom and Dan returned from the hotel hours earlier to file Larry's side of the story. Once that piece, Pete's FSA story and the main article were all cued up to publish, the whole team went into Cameron's office for what would be the final phone call before the story went live.
Gregson put the speaker-phone in the middle of the conference table and dialed.
"HG Bank, Martin Grey's office how may I help you?" Answered the secretary on the other end of the line.
"Hello, this is Michael Gregson, editor of the online journal Fleet Street Daily to speak with Mr. Martin Grey, please."
"I'm sorry, sir, but all press inquiries must go to our communications director. I'll—"
"But this affects Mr. Grey personally," Gregson cut in.
"Nevertheless, all press inquiries go to our communications director. I'll connect you now."
Gregson rolled his eyes.
"Robin Smith, speaking."
Gregson tried again. "Hello, Robin. This is Michael Gregson, I'm the editor of the new online journal Fleet Street Daily. You may have heard of us."
"I have, and I'm familiar with your past work Mr. Gregson. What can I do for you?"
"Well, in a few minutes, we're going live with a story about insider trading at HG Bank. Specifically, how Martin Grey used his son's trading license to short 1.7 million pounds worth of Smith Brothers stock the week before they went under, pocketing 276 million pounds in the return. Do you have a comment?"
Silence.
"Robin?"
After a few more seconds of silence, there was a click and then the sound of the dial tone.
Gregson looked around the room, smiling. "Everybody ready?"
The team looked at one another and then all nodded in unison.
Cameron stood up, opened the door and yelled out "GO!" to the webmaster, who'd been sitting across the newsroom awaiting his order. Cameron then took his mobile out of his pocket, dialed a number and after a few seconds said, "Hello, Carl, this is Cameron Foster. Hope you hear this message soon because on our website right now is the best financial story since the launch of the Euro. I'm giving BBC One first crack at me and Michael. If you don't call in the next ten minutes, you'll just have to see my ugly mug on TV on another channel."
Cameron threw the phone on the table, and just as it stopped spinning on the smooth surface, Molly came running in.
"BBC One evening producer on the line wants to know if you can be on via satellite in fifteen minutes."
Cameron turned to Gregson with a smile and said, "And you who didn't want to pay for the TV equipment."
Gregson rolled his eyes. "Good thing I brought my suit jacket in this morning."
For the first time, Tom noticed the cameras in the office between Michael's and Cameron's. The audio-video staff took about ten minutes to set it up to look like a TV studio.
"So while they're doing that, what do we do?" Della asked.
"The pub downstairs has a TV," Dan said standing, "Let's go get pissed."
Everyone laughed, and as they made their way to the door, Helen said, "You're buying, Tom."
"Why me?"
"Because you're getting a book deal out of this."
The team headed out as Michael and Cameron were getting mic'ed up and ready for air. About a half-hour, one breaking news segment featuring his two bosses and many shots of whiskey later, Tom texted Sybil.
When she finally arrived about an hour after that, Sybil could see from across the room that Tom was hilariously drunk. If she had thought that finding him in such a state was going to put a damper on her plans for later that night, the sloppy kiss he planted square on her lips when she greeted him told her otherwise.
"Hi," she said, holding back her laughter. "Having a good day, are we?"
He smiled goofily, leaning his forehead against hers. "The best—actually just very good. It would only be the best if I could take you home and have my way with you."
Sybil bit her lower lip, which led Tom to take one of his hands from her waist and cover her mouth with it.
"Please don't do that because it just makes me want you more," he said.
Sybil laughed, and he could feel the breath of her giggles between his fingers.
"You know, it's too bad about my knee, because if it weren't injured, I'd throw everyone out of this pub and take you right here on the bar."
Sybil laughed again. Drunk Tom was fun—and extremely sexy. "Speaking of your knee, where's you cane?"
Tom pulled his head up from against hers and looked around, then he remembered. "Oh, right. The bartender has it. I gave it to him for safekeeping because Dan was using it as a cue stick."
"So now that you're a big time reporter, are you going to have any time for your lowly nurse?"
"All of my time is yours, my darling."
Despite his goofy drunken smile, Sybil could see how deeply he'd meant what he said.
"Why don't we go home, then, and make this the best day ever?"
Tom's eyes widened. "Are you serious?" He asked in a whisper.
"Very," she said, giving him a come hither look that sobered him up immediately.
Tom bid a hasty goodbye to his colleagues, got his cane back and, with Sybil, ran outside as fast as his knee would let him to a taxi in which they managed to keep their clothes on—barely—on their way to Sybil's, a destination chosen on the assumption that the thicker walls of her flat would better shield the neighbors' ears because this was going to be a long night.
XXX
The first time was fast and intense. They were barely out of their clothes and hadn't bothered to turn down the bed sheets. After, as they lay in a breathless heap, they started laughing at themselves, at their situation, happily drowning in the silliness of being in love.
The second time was slow and deep and tender. They remained tangled in one another for several minutes after, simply looking into each other's eyes until Tom broke the silence with a soft whisper.
"Oh, my darling, I do love you so much."
Sybil gave him a sleepy smile in return and kissed him again, which led to the third time.
And at some point before the sun came up, they finally fell asleep.