Chapter Song - Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

' And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming, or the moment of truth in your lies '

. . . . . . . . . . .

The first morning had been the worst. The second almost bearable. And the third, fourth and fifth. The sixth was a little better, she had escaped the tears on that occasion. But the seventh, today, had been the best so far; no tears, no flashbacks, she was just, numb. Numb to the icy December cold, to the cheery songs of the closing in Christmas in which she would spend nursing a bottle of Château Lafleur, to the looks of pity at her exhaustion haggard face, to everything really.

Twisting her wrist experimentally in front of her glazed eyes, Sybil tried to feel the chill of the air on her skin, but when she found she couldn't, she twined her fingers back around her warm latte. Well, she assumed it was warm from its curling swirls of steam, she couldn't tell otherwise. Taking a possibly hot sip, Sybil shuffled on the chilled metal chair outside Starbucks, realising that she and she alone had chosen to sit in the cold. Even the smokers, who often sat huddled, grumbling, outside the busy coffee house had chosen takeaway; to walk and drink for warmth. But if she couldn't tell hot from cold, what did it matter?

Taking another foamy slurp, Sybil slid her frozen hand into her small bag, her eyes forward on the buzzing view of Regent Street, knowing the exact location of her phone, especially as it had so recently become the key object of her latest obsession; him, Tom. Since that fateful night, a full, exhausting, endless six nights ago, Sybil had thrown herself into the murder of the man that loved her. Not an hour went by when she didn't check the internet for news, scour the television for reports, scan every paper for the tell-tale headline. She told herself all she needed was for his body to be found, for his family to take him home to Ireland, to lay him in peace, then she would stop, then she would finally let go... Let go...

Twining her hand around her phone, she swept her fingers over various coloured icons until she tapped on the blue bird image; the link to the Twitter account Grantham would kill her for having, but something she was willing to risk. Within minutes the phone was back in her bag, having tried and failed to find results for 'London Murder', 'Train Killing', 'Man Shot' and finally, one she had not been brave enough to try until this very moment 'Tom Branson Dead'. The lack of information only brought her a seconds relief that his family had been spared the inevitable for a little while longer, before it was once again replaced with the feeling of a hollow stomach and a layer of grief.

Sybil had found that grief was a funny thing. It wasn't just tears, and sadness, and despair, like her parents would express every miscarriage anniversary, and she had to admit she had had her fair share of each this week. No, grief was a sort of drive, of passion, an all consuming emotion that banished the conscience and welcomed recklessness. In fact, it was this grief, the product of Tom's death, that had undeniably saved her from revealing her mourning of him.

The first day after Mary had fulfilled her request, she had laid in bed, puffy eyed and empty, wondering how she was going to pull herself together and carry on with her role as Lady. But then, when Grantham had called her, requesting that her and Carlisle see to a drug dealer who hadn't been paying up for his patch of LL territory, Sybil had found that her grief could easily be morphed into dedication to her side. She had thrown herself into her gang member role, relishing every debt she had to demand, revelling in the power that backed up every threat she made, silently smug at Grantham's pleasure.

By the third day after Tom's murder, Sybil had realised she was not angry at Lords and Ladies, nor Satan's Servants for that matter,well... she did still have that ingrained hate for them, always would, but that was different. She just wasn't angry at the gangs for causing all that had happened between her and Tom. They, her and him, had chosen their lifestyle and chosen to get involved with each other. They had no one to blame but themselves. Yet after she had realised this, she had come to the conclusion that she wasn't angry at herself or Tom either, what had happened between them had been out of their control. He had fallen in love, and she, well-

Her heart clenched a little with this consideration, and for a horrifying second, her sense of touch returned as an icy tear dripped from her frantically blinking eyes. "Excuse me?"

Flicking the dropet from her cheek before it could do any damage to her immaculate make-up, something she had grown tired of having to repair multiple times in the week, Sybil looked up at the voice. "Yes?"

The Starbucks barista was a young boy, no older than sixteen and clearly didn't know how to deal with an emotional woman yet, well, did men ever learn to deal with emotional women? Taking pity on him however, Sybil put on her brightest, and most strained smile as he dropped a slightly damp Starbucks napkin to her table. "This is for you."

A blush creeping to her cheeks as the boy looked on, Sybil cringed as she opened the soft sheet; if she saw eleven digits blotting the folded tissue she planned to abandon the latte. But as it was, there were no numbers, only words, words she did not understand, but words her suddenly rushing heart seemed to.

'Have you used the calm to consider?'

o o o

Tom Branson could not keep the grin off of his face. There she was. Sybil. God how the week apart had tortured him. Had it tortured her? He hoped so, he hoped she had been preparing to find him. He knew he should of stayed away longer, like Mary said he was supposed to, but the bubbling happiness he had felt all week had finally reached boiling point and before he knew it he had been sneaking and dodging into every part of LL territory he knew, desperate in his search. And now he had found her. The woman he was in love with. Sybil Crawley.

Taking his eyes off of her for the briefest second in order to follow the young barista's journey back inside the coffee house, Tom caught his eye and beckoned him over again. "Sorry, I really should get back to work-"

"I know, look, take another fifty. So, what did she say?" He was already half out of his chair as he asked the question.

But with the boy's reply, he sat back down. "She screwed it up and said I must have the wrong person."

Tom's enthusiasm at having found Sybil wavered only slightly before he felt his grin return, spreading across his face. Reaching for another sheet and searching for the pen in his Hugo Boss suit, he scribbled out his newly formed idea; 'Don't tell me I should have waited longer m'lady?'. "Here take her this."

He watched as the boy dove into the cold, walked up to Sybil, backed away as though in fear and ran back to his table. "I don't know what you did to her, but she's not happy. She told me to fuck off then left."

Tom made it out of his chair fully this time, out of the coffee house in fact, and onto the dangerous territory of Regent Street. In one way he was lucky he had the hoard of last minute Christmas shoppers for cover, but also unfortunate as they blocked his view of the woman he had ached for for too long to lose now. So, running in the general direction he expected Sybil to have taken, wincing slightly as his wounded thigh was pummelled by the crowd, he thanked his lucky stars when he saw a tumble of dark hair sweep into Oxford Street.

He felt utterly unstoppable as he knocked people aside in his race to get hold of her. And reaching out when he finally closed in on her, he came to the conclusion that he would have to kiss her before he could talk to her, too consumed by his elation at having her close again. Would she smile, laughing with joy? Would she cling to him, unwilling to let go? Would she kiss him back and, and- Burst into tears and drop to the floor?

Keeping his grasp on her forearm, Tom was able to stop Sybil falling fully to the pavement, and used his strength to pull her to her feet. "Sybil?" Still holding her tightly, Tom sidestepped when she pressed a fist to her mouth and gave an empty gag. "Are you alright? What's wr-?" Her attempt to shake him off only caused him to hold on with a tighter grip. "Is it because we're in-" He glanced over his shoulder. "-LL territory? Don't panic, it's too busy for anyone to-"

He slackened his claim on her arm when she finally spoke, well, screamed actually. "You're dead Tom! You're supposed to be dead!"

Her cry had not only curdled every river of blood in his body, but had also captured the attention of a few passers by, including two policeman. Smacking his free palm to his neck, Tom slid his other hand further down Sybil's arm and locked around her wrist. "Shh, look, I- just-!"

In a haze of utter pain and confusion, Tom was able to retain his grip on a hysterical Sybil, who seemed to have realised struggling would only make things worse. Weaving through the crowd was easier without the fuss of such resistance, but the form of her full weight, which she seemed to have no control over, was difficult to manoeuvre. Finally however, his head filled with her scream and the look on her face as he had turned her, Tom was able to sweep Sybil down an alley way and into an arched crevice built into its wall.

The sight before him was so pitiful he almost felt choked up himself. Sybil's mascara had created what could only be described as a map of the London underground down her face, her lips were dyed a watery grey from the streams, and she was shaking so violently, so uncontrollably that Tom, who was aware of her past problems, was certian she was on the verge of a- Yup, here was the panic attack.

"One- o- Tom- tw- you're dead Tom-!" What was she talking about?

Her breathing came so fast that he knew if he didn't calm her, she would probably collapse for real. So, remembering how she usually dealt with this, and how she seemed to be trying to now, he helped her along. "That's it- shh- One, two, three- Yeah, one-" Releasing one of her wrists, Tom took her face in his palm. "-two, three. Yeah, that's it, you've got- One, two-" Her body was definitely calming, and he felt brave enough to bring his other palm to her face. "One, two, three. One, two,-"

"-three. One, t-two, three." He felt a rush of- of something, when she covered his hands with hers and began to sob as the attack subsided.

"Sybil, please, tell me what's wrong." Knowing he was taking advantage of her weak state, but too desperate for some sort of comfort of his own to care, Tom leant forward and pressed a kiss to her creased forehead. Not backing away, his lips against her skin, he made his request again. "Please."

In what was definitely turning into the strangest day of his life, Tom was almost thrown off balance when Sybil slipped her trembling hands beneath his blazor to pull him into a suffocating hold. And he was trying, really trying, to connect to her tears, to understand her screams and sobs, but the feel of her form in his arms had him highly distracted. The last time he had held her like this, crying against him, gripping him tightly, he had- they had- he shook his head to the present.

Her face now burying into his chest, he wound an arm around her waist and tangled the other in her hair. "I- I thought- I thought you were dead."

And just like that, it was all clear. So everything he had believed too good to be true, really had been? He would have started a hunt on Mary there and then if he didn't have a sobbing woman clinging to him like a lifeline. Instead, he took a calming breath, and pushed her ever so slightly against the wall. "She didn't tell you she had let me go did she?"

It took another few minutes, in which the words 'Dead', 'You' and 'Tom' were mumbled into his chest, before Sybil pulled her face away to look at him. "She killed you."

Resisting the urge to comeback with a sarcastic comment about how he was clearly not dead, and very much alive and partly insane with anger and worry, Tom locked his blue eyes with her weeping ones. "She didn't kill me Sybil. I'm here, I'm here with you."

"She didn't-? She shot you!"

Sarcastic comment restrained once again, Tom slipped the hand from her hair to cup her jaw, desperate to bring her around to his happiness at being reunited. "No. No, she shot at me. She did catch me a little on the thigh but- What am I saying? No, she didn't shoot me Sybil. I'm alive."

He closed his eyes for the first time in what felt like hours when her cold thumbs traced his cheekbones, her little nails running along the sensitive skin beneath his eyes. He didn't need to have them open to know hers were dragging over every inch of his face; he felt her gaze like the lick of a flame. "You are aren't you? But how-? I don't-?"

Sensing a fresh wave of tears, Tom ploughed on with what he hoped would be a quick and straight forward story, desperately trying to push away his fury at Mary. "After I threw you out- I'm sorry for that by the way- Mary had me down-" He revisited the scene for a moment; down on his knees, hands behind his back, a gun to his temple. "-when I told her that killing me was fine as long as you were okay, that she wouldn't go for you too. I don't know why, maybe it was because she found us holding each other, or because you were crying or because I kissed you goodbye, but she suddenly started asking me if I really cared-"

"Tom, you are alive yeah?" He wasn't sure if Sybil was even aware she had asked a question, as she was suddenly looking at him inquisitively to continue.

"Yes, I am. So I told her exactly what I felt. I told her it wasn't casual, that it wasn't a trick or scheme, I told her that I- well what I told you before we got on the train. Then she asked if you had said the same to me, and when I told her no, well, I don't know why, maybe it's because if I was trying for sympathy I would have said yes, but I felt her gun pull away a bit-"

"But she shot you. Three times."

"No, she shot at, at me, Sybil, three times." This was going to take some time, he could feel it. "I think- I think she realised that it- that we were serious Syb. And I would like to say, that when she eventually pulled the gun away, she was doing the decent thing, but I know she was thinking that even if she killed me there and then, you would still have betrayed Lords and Ladies."

Tom nearly fell to the floor with relief when he saw a little clarity in Sybil's eyes. "Me? What do I have to do with her kill- not killing you?"

"Look." He slipped his hands beneath her coat and to her waist. "In a weird way, she cares about you Syb, and she's bloody dedicated to her side. And I think she wanted you to be able to redeem yourself. If she took the problem away by killing me, then you would have gotten away with it. But by keeping me alive, she gave you the chance to properly decide who's side you were on-"

"But-" Fresh tears began forming in Sybil's flickering eyes. "-she didn't tell me you were alive. She let me believe you were- you were d-dead."

Pressing his forehead to her own, Tom tried to keep his recently surfaced wrath at Mary from his voice. "Well, she told me to fuck off home to Ireland. She told me she would tell you that I had gone away, and that way, her words exactly, you could use the calm to consider. So then, if you realised you wanted me, you could come to me and face the consequences, and if you didn't, well, I guess the idea was that you were a loyal LL member again and I would come home to Satan's and end up killed by one of your lot eventually anyway."

"She didn't T-Tom. She didn't say you had gone away. I- All week- I-" Her tears had stopped but her breathing was still a flurry, so Tom pressed his lips to her soft neck, hoping to calm her rushing pulse and thought of how he would have felt to believe Sybil dead and gone forever.

"Shh, shh." He kissed her neck and felt her relax a little. "I should have known she would do something like that. Before I legged it, I asked if she was confident she could bring you round, and she said she'd certainly try. I guess making you believe I was dead rather than swanning it about in Ireland was a pretty sure bet that you would choose her side."

"Then, then why not just kill you? For real? She didn't did she?"

"No, Sybil, I'm definitely here. I guess, I guess there was always the chance that you could turn around and still pick me even though I was dead." The idea had his skin prickling. "Can you imagine the shame to Lords and Ladies if you did that? That you would rather a dead man than them? No, I think she was hedging her bets, so even if you did turn around and say that, then she could keep Lords and Ladies reputation by making them think you had known I was alive all along. Does that make sense?"

For a minute or two, Sybil simply stared at him, blinking slowly, and he began to form a more simpler way of explaining to her in his head when she began to nod. "So, you're alive? Mary didn't kill you? You're here, aren't you? You're not dead?"

The end of her sentence was clipped with laughter, a sound that had a warm tingle running through Tom's body. "I'm here. I promise."

"The shots were a trick?"

"Ahh, well, yes and no. She gave me ten seconds to run. And uhh, she meant it. Cos after ten seconds, I started getting shot at. She caught me on my leg, but nothing major." He grinned at her and her return smile had him weak at the knees. "You should know Sybil, I didn't leave London. I stayed, just laid low. I wanted to be with you again, to be around when you decided it was safe to come looking for me. I just couldn't bear the thought of being so far away from you when I knew we could have a chance... That we might have our chance to be together."

o o o

Sybil thought she had past the worst, what with the panic attack in reaction to discovering the man she had next expected to see a fuzzy photo of on the news to be alive, but she had been wrong. What was worse was that the man she thought to be dead, suddenly expected them to be together, to make a stand as a couple, and the only result of such a thing really would be death, only, the permanent kind this time. And she could not, would not, go through that again.

"Tom I-" She what? She was glad he was alive but now needed him to go? She couldn't be happier he had survived but couldn't have anything more to do with him? She knew he loved her, but she had yet to decide if he was worth it? That was what she should say, she knew it. Now was the right time to end this. He was alive, Mary would think she was over him, they could return to their own gang roles, could accept that what they had almost been just wasn't meant to be. Together, they had played with fire and been burned, but now they had been offered the chance to come back from the ashes...separately. They should take this offer, they really should.

So why, why, did she suddenly ask him her next question? "Do you love me?"

The shock she felt at having asked the question was reflected back in Tom's eye ten times over, but while her shock was of utter surprise, his was of delight; as though she had given him a chance to finally let out all that he had held back. "Yeah. Yeah I do."

And it happened again, she spoke without thinking. It seemed she needed answers, no matter how bad of an idea she knew it was, how it could complicate things. "But- but when you told me, you were dying. I've seen- I've heard people say things they don't mean when they thought- when they thought- Well, did you mean it or...?"

She suddenly felt very small, yet protected, when Tom slid his arms so tightly around her he could probably reach out to himself and nuzzled his nose on hers. "I said it because it was my last chance to, not because I thought it wouldn't have consequences."

"So... You meant it?" Her heart was racing, beating like a little red drum, and the voice in her conscience was getting quiter and quieter, especially when she slipped her fingers beneath his collar. "You love me?"

"Mmm hmm." She felt the vibration of the sound on her thumbs. "Sybil? What is it?"

Having just turned away from his advancing kiss, Sybil wondered how to go about what had stopped her accepting it. His inquisitive, and slightly put out eyes, had her smiling before long, and she felt the dried black tears on her face crack. "What- what about Gwen?"

"Gwen? Really? You're asking about Gwen? Jesus, you women. Bloody nightmare the lot of you! Do you have any idea what you just put me through? And now you're asking about Gwen?" He was laughing now, pushing her against the wall in an attempt to get closer. "Forget her- Sybil just let me kiss you!"

She was on the verge of giving in, some magnetic field drawing her closer to him, but the undeniable female jealously within her was too strong a barrier. "Tom, do you have any idea what I've been through? I'm serious. Gwen?"

Sybil stood firm as Tom sighed in exasperation, a slight twinkle in his eye. "She's probably off somewhere making love to a tub of Ben&Jerrys."

"You finished with her?" She tried to the keep the wicked grin from her face, but found it impossible.

"I didn't need to." He kissed her jaw. "Someone gave me a lovebite, and my girlfriend was pretty sure it wasn't her..."

What followed could only be described as the best kiss of Sybil's life. It started when she finally tilted her head to meet Tom's desperate advances, yet, she found the moment they touched lips was anything but. The first press was so soft, so chaste, that she wouldn't be sure they had even made contact if not for the swell of her bruised and battered heart. And all she wanted, craved, was for him to kiss her again. She would not move to him though, as each time he leant into her would act as proof of his existance, of his life. And lean in he did. Over and over, scattering kisses to her lips, jaw, cheek, nose, neck, making every spot hot and tingly. She, however, simply closed her eyes to heighten the intensity of each brush, too lost in his embrace to react.

Before long though, his gentle caresses began to linger a little longer, and she could feel damp little spots to her skin after each touch of his tongue. But it was not until he pushed against her even harder to gain a better angle to work on her neck with a little more haste did she decide she wanted to kiss him, and badly. So, taking his face in her hands, she opened her eyes, still struggling to believe they had just met his own, and waited for him to take the hint; she still needed that proof. He gave it.

The moment they finally kissed, Sybil felt something she never thought she would feel again; warm. It was impossible not to with his hands beneath her shirt, rough fingertips grazing beneath the waist of her skirt, moulding his lips to hers, tracing the soft inner skin with a light tongue, sighing and groaning, kissing her like he never thought he would be able to again. Huh, right.

And though he may have been leading before, Sybil couldn't stop herself giving as good as she got. Her fingers curled around his shirt collar, tugged at his tie, pulled him if possible closer. She leaned in, inhaling his Tom scent, smiling into their kiss as she gave hint that she wanted it to be slow, and deep, dragging her tongue, pulling his hair. Her stomach was flipping, and bouncing, and twirling, and jumping, and before long she started to laugh.

"I honestly think this is the most insane I've ever seen you." Smirked Tom, using a thumb to wipe off the remnants of her kiss from his curved lips.

"I'm s-sorry! It's just you were dead, but now you're not, and you're here-"

"Yes I am."

"- and I didn't think I'd ever see you again." The kiss and laughter had her a little breathless.

"In-" Tom pulled her into another deep embrace. "-sane"

"S'cuse me?"

Feeling like a naughty school girl caught behind the bike shed, Sybil turned to the croaky voice, leaning forward a little to press herself to Tom's jaw. "Yes?"

The straggly haired, grimy looking man before them shuffled on his feet slightly, glancing down at the small Jack Russell cocking his leg up to the wall. "This, uhh, this is my spot."

For a moment Sybil didn't understand his meaning, until he held up a small guitar. "Oh right, I- umm-" She looked up at a grinning Tom.

She closed her eyes briefly when he ran a palm through her hair and whispered, "I have a robbery to get on with."

Her lip found it's way between her teeth for a moment as she mumbled. "I have an arson attack to commit."

And then, like everything was normal, like really normal, like they were normal, a normal couple, they kissed briefly then parted ways, each taking a direction down the alley way. Sybil had her mouth tightened to supress her grin, wiping her hands roughly down her face to wipe away her smuged tears when she heard the street busker pinging his guitar and singing his song, almost drowning Tom's shout.

'And If I start a commotion'

"Sybil!"

'I run the risk of losing you'

"What?"

'And that's worse'

"What are you doing for Christmas?"

'Ever fallen in love with someone'

"Nothing!"

'Ever fallen in love'

"Fancy a trip to Ireland?"

'In love with someone'

"O-okay!"

'Ever fallen in love'

"Good. Oh Sybil!"

'In love with someone'

"What?

'You shouldn't have fallen in love with'

"I love you."

He shrugged casually in his suit and Sybil felt a pang in her stomach as he gave a sideways grin and slid into the busy London street. He loved her. Fact. Did she love him? Maybe. But even if she did... was it enough?

Please Review... If I broke your heart last week ^^

Am I forgiven for last weeks chapter now? Say I am! In the week, btvs told me I should see it as a compliment that people were affected by my writing, which I have done, though I am sorry to those who cried! Hopefully this redeems me, and I hope Christmas Day will too...

Next Monday's huns =)

( www. youtube watch?v=vv0U4Tmj5AE&feature=plcp Amazing video based on this chapter by btvs )