Jumping ahead about...7-8 months? Hmmm, what could be happening? ;oP Also, the fate of Matthew is revealed...

HANG IN THERE EVERYONE! Only two more chapters after this one.

Prompt: "Do you trust me?"


November 1918

She's hunched over a chair, gripping it tightly while her brow furrows and her eyes squeeze shut as another wave of pain flows through her. This is just the beginning, she has many more hours left to endure this agony, but endure it she must and endure it she will.

…Today she will finally meet the face of her child. Her child, born of love between an English nurse and an Irish ambulance driver.

Another wave of pain courses through her and she grits her teeth. Still, the physical pain is nothing compared to the broken heart she still carries. Her son or daughter will never know the extraordinary man who was their father, though she will do her best to tell them everything about him, about his courage, his kindness, his compassion, his stubbornness; how even though he never supported the war, he was determined to do what he could to help the boys who were fighting it. How he was proud of his Irish heritage, and yearned for his country's freedom. How he was a hard worker, who sought fairness and equality for all people, especially the poor. She meant what she said to her family all those months ago; if anyone asks, she will not lie about Tom's occupation, or pretend he was something he wasn't. She has no shame…but that doesn't mean others feel the same way.

She knew, long before this day came, that she couldn't stay at Downton, not indefinitely. While her father did speak to Murray, and together they managed to make Granny's ruse a reality, complete with a false marriage license and wedding ring, she is only "Lady Sybil Branson" by name, a name that her child will receive upon his or her birth, but for intents and purposes, is still (legally speaking) "a bastard".

Which means she is still "a fallen woman", or "damaged goods". And yes, she knows her family loves her and always will, at the same time, she knows that the shame she doesn't feel, others do, and she will not have them look upon her child with piteous or contemptuous eyes.

No, before her son or daughter has any comprehension about such things, they will leave; though she knows not where. America, perhaps? Go and live with her grandmother in New York? No one there will know her, and it will be easier, perhaps, to make a new start.

But then she thinks about how far away that is from everything…including Tom's beloved Ireland. And she thinks about his family, particularly about his mother, who he told her stories about. A portly woman, with a red-hot temper and a heart of gold…

She's about to gain another grandchild, fathered by the son who she has lost.

"Sybil?" she grits her teeth and turns to the door to see Cousin Isobel enter. "When did it start?"

She breathes heavily before answering. "About…sometime after…four this morning?"

Cousin Isobel does the math in her head before nodding and coming over to Sybil's side. "Well, let's take a turn around the room; walking does sometimes help. Do you trust me?"

Sybil simply nods as she sucks in another breath as another wave of pain peaks, then subsides.

"Good, concentrate on your breathing, just like that, and take my hand, and…there we go, just a simple stroll…we even have a garden view," her cousin chuckles, attempting to bring humor to the situation, which Sybil does appreciate.

She glances towards the window that looks out at the gardens behind the house. There's a clear view of a bench, where Mary is sitting, with Matthew beside her. She's reading something to him…and her left hand is in his right.

It can't be seen from here...but there's a ring on Mary's finger.

A fortnight ago, they were married. Despite the fact that she felt like she was "the size of Downton itself", Sybil stood proudly next to Edith as their sister held Matthew's hands and repeated the vows Mr. Travis read to them, in the beauty and privacy of those very gardens.

It was not the elaborate wedding ceremony their mother had always wanted to give her, but in that moment, nothing could have been more perfect.

Well, one thing…but sadly, that was not possible.

Despite her own depression, Sybil is happy for her cousin and her sister. She always knew they loved each other and hopes that maybe, if something good can come out of tragedy, the realization that yes, life truly is too short and precious to second-guess what the heart clearly knows.

"The ceremony in the Hall was very nice," Isobel tells her as they make another lap around the room. "When the clock struck eleven, we had a moment of silence."

Sybil nods her head, wishing she could have been there. It would have been a way to honor Tom, as well as all the other men whom she has tended to over the years.

There's another knock on the door and Sybil glances up as Dr. Clarkson, followed by her mother, enters the room. "How's the young mother doing?" he says, ever friendly. He's changed from his military uniform, something Sybil has gotten so used to seeing him in, that it's odd to see him now in his white coat.

"The contractions are getting closer," Isobel informs him and Dr. Clarkson encourages her to lie down so that he can examine her.

The next few hours are some of the most excruciating Sybil has ever had to endure.

"Keep pushing Sybil!" Isobel tells her. "The head is crowning!"

God it hurts! She's crying because of the pain, and because of all the people gathered downstairs, waiting for news, Tom isn't one of them.

He's not downstairs, but he is here. Think of that! He's watching over you, right now! Telling you to push, whispering loving words in your ear, holding your hand and stroking your hair and urging you on, just a few more pushes, just a few more pushes, just a few more—

The room erupts with the sound of a child's wail.

Sybil collapses back onto the bed, the sheets drenched with her sweat, her entire body feeling like rubber. But the second time she hears that cry, she somehow finds the strength to sit up, and her arms are already reaching out, desperate to see her child, to see Tom's child

"It's a boy!" Isobel gasps, beaming and smiling as she meets Sybil's eyes.

A boy.

A boy!

Oh Lord, does he have Tom's eyes? His nose, his chin?

"Please," she begs, needing to see, needing to hold him…

"Here," Isobel grins, bringing the newly cleaned and ever screaming newborn to his mother.

Her hands are trembling, and yet they've never felt stronger.

"Ohhhh…" she manages to gasp as she looks down at her perfect treasure. Yes…yes, she can see so much of her Tom there! And the tears flow freely, but all she can feel is happiness; wonderful, wonderful happiness!

Her son…their son…is here at last.

Tom, can you see him? Isn't he beautiful?

"What are you going to name him?" Isobel asks her, a tearful smile on her own face.

There was never any doubt. "Tom…" she answers, before looking back at her son, whose cries have faded as he now gazes up at her with wide, handsome blue eyes. "Tommy," she giggles, before lowering her lips to brush against his brow.

To be continued...