HUGE IMPORTANT CHAPTER PEOPLE! And emotional, just to give you fair warning. I'm not going to say much, just thank everyone for following and reading and hope you enjoy. One more chapter will be posted before the end of the month (and before the fic goes on hiatus for the month of May-ahh!) Dedication to fans of William/Daisy


Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Parting"

Chaos erupted.

Daisy's screaming echoed off the walls as the Walker attacked. The sound was only rivaled by William's painful wail as the monster bit down on his ankle, its teeth sinking deep. Sybil and Tom heard the screams and came bursting in, shouting themselves, as was Lavinia, but it was the blast of Matthew's gun that finally filled the room with silence, as he fired at the attacking Walker's head, its steel-like jaws going slack at last.

But the damage had already been done.

The Walker's teeth had not only torn into the flesh at William's ankle, but had bit so hard that it severed his Achilles tendon, laming him and causing him to fall forward as the pain ripped through his body.

"NO!" Daisy screamed. "WILLIAM!"

Blood was oozing out and pooling at his limp foot, and Lavinia had grabbed the crowbar William had earlier used to free them from the locked office, using it to break the jaws the now dead Walker, freeing William's leg…and revealing the ghastly sight of his injury.

"LADY SYBIL! LADY SYBIL!" Daisy hysterically shrieked, looking desperately for the nurse who had tended so many wounded when the house was a convalescent home. "PLEASE, PLEASE HELP HIM!"

Sybil flew to William's side, kneeling at his leg and gasping at the amount of tissue damage the Walker had caused. She ripped her apron off and quickly moved to wrap it around William's bleeding leg. William let out a howl of pain at the feeling. He was also shaking—convulsing even.

"I need a blanket, something—please!" she shouted, looking at the others who were standing around and staring down at poor William in horror. She turned her eyes to Tom, and he nodded his head, moving away to go in search of one. "He's going into shock," Sybil muttered under her breath. "We need to stop the bleeding," she said more to herself before turning her attention to the footman. "William, I'm sorry, this will hurt but I need to apply pressure, to stop the bleeding!" Without warning, she lifted his leg, her hand squeezing the apron to his ankle and heel, causing him to howl even louder at the movement and the touch. The apron looked as if it were soaked through already.

"Daisy, come around to him, let him rest his head on your lap—good girl!" she continued to direct, happy that Daisy was listening and didn't hesitate to do as Sybil said. "Tom, did you find a blanket?"

"Aye!" he came, rushing back. It was actually a large burlap sack, but it was thick and it would do for the moment. He had ripped the sack down the seams to make it larger, and then he quickly wrestled his own jacket off, so it could be placed over William's chest, on top of the sack.

"Good, good, um…I'm going to need dressings…and, and my tools are in my bag—I'll need to sterilize the instruments; Matthew?" she turned to face her cousin, who was still standing and looking down at the scene in horror. "Matthew, give me your matches; let me use the flame to sterilize the tools. And Lavinia! Is there a sink or something back there behind the counter? We're going to need hot water! It should be boiling, but unless there's a stove anywhere around here, we'll need to make it as hot as possible. And ale—or any kind of alcohol; the stronger the better! I could use that to sterilize the instruments actually, as well as for William to drink to block out the pain as best as possible…"

Matthew watched in awe as his cousin spoke, never once loosening her grip on William's bleeding leg, never once flinching or gagging or anything of the sort at the sight of the torn flesh, the pooling blood, or the reality that his tendons had been shredded by the teeth of a Walker.

The teeth of a Walker.

Matthew turned his eyes to Lavinia, who was standing frozen beside him, still clutching the crowbar she had used to pry the creature's dead jaws away from William's leg.

She was pale, and shaking…and she was gazing at William in a way that made his blood run cold.

No…no, not William…

She must have felt his gaze upon her, because she lifted her eyes and stared back at him, and in their green depths, Matthew had the answer he had been dreading, but that he recalled Reggie explaining to him once…

"If they bite you…you're as good as dead."

If they bite you…you become one of them.

"Matthew?" Sybil called out to him once again, her eyes pleading. "Matthew, the ale? Or whisky or wine, or—or something, please, I…" her voice suddenly began to trail off, no doubt because she was beginning to see and read his expression.

Daisy looked up from where she was kneeling, William's head on her lap, his hands gripping hers as he trembled beneath the bag and the Tom's jacket. The kitchen maid stared at him, and Matthew saw her eyes, large and hollow looking, and he suddenly felt a tight stab of pain hit his chest and squeeze his heart.

"Matthew?" it was Sybil's voice again, and he wrestled his eyes away from Daisy's to look back at her. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"Please!" Daisy's cry broke the air before he even had the chance to respond to his cousin. "Please, please, we have to do something, we have to help him, please Capt. Crawley, please!"

He felt so helpless. He honestly didn't know what to do or say right now, because it was clear that none of them, with the exception of Lavinia, knew what had just happened. They didn't understand William's fate; they didn't understand that even if they stopped the bleeding and somehow managed to take away all of poor William's pain…the lad was still going to die.

And become one of those things.

Like Molesley. Like Mrs. Bird. And you'll be forced to deal with the same dilemma as before…

And God help him, he wasn't ready. Not with William.

Tom muttered a curse under his breath and went to go in search of the alcohol Sybil required. Matthew swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced over at Lavinia again, her eyes full of sadness, but also full of truth. Without saying the words, she was confirming what he feared.

"Matthew," Sybil repeated his name once again, her voice firm but even. He didn't have to look at her to know that she needed an answer from him. They all did. They all knew something was wrong. And as painful as it was to reveal, they all deserved to know.

"We can try to make him as comfortable as possible."

It was Lavinia who spoke, breaking the strained silence that filled the room. She put on a smile and began to kneel down beside Daisy, but Sybil reached out and stopped her, looking frantic (and not caring that her hand was bloody and now staining Lavinia's sleeve).

"I can do this, I know I can do this," she insisted, her eyes holding Lavinia's before moving up to Matthew's.

"I'm not doubting you, Sybil—"

"Then stop speaking as though there's nothing to be done!"

"NOTHING can be done!"

Everyone seemed to flinch at Matthew's sudden roar, even Tom who had just returned with a bottle of wine he had found a few shelves over.

All of them stared up at him, fear and horror in their eyes, as well as confusion and disbelief.

"What…" Daisy began, her large eyes only growing wider. "What…what do you mean?"

During the War, Matthew had always wondered how those officers, the ones that delivered the dreaded telegrams to announce that a someone's son or husband would not be returning…he always wondered how those men prepared themselves, before delivering the news that no one wanted to hear, but that needed to be given. There had been an officer, a Lt. Reynolds whom he had been friends with in the early years during the war. Lt. Reynolds was injured sometime in 1915, and unable to return for duty, yet the Army gave him the job of delivering these telegrams. Matthew couldn't begin to fathom what that must have been like, and prayed that if he was ever injured and unable to return to duty, that he would never be asked to join his friend in what he could only imagine as the worst job a man could have.

But now here he was. And it was worse than he could imagine, because William was still with them, though barely conscious it seemed.

Matthew looked at the private, whose skin was pale and clammy, a layer of sweat covering his brow and cheeks, and his eyes were struggling to stay open. Was that because of the shock and the blood loss of what had happened? Or was that the monster's poison? Was it already spreading throughout his body? Was he transforming right now, as they spoke, as they looked at each other?

Oh God in heaven. Not only was he going to explain to all of them, including William, what was happening, but that he would also have to…have to shoot William, in the head, before the transformation was complete.

And this time, Matthew knew he had to be the one to do it.

"If you're bitten by a Walker, you become one of them."

The words came out of his mouth so quickly, and yet their understanding must have been clear, because the way everyone stared at him revealed the horror they were feeling at such a revelation.

"W-w-what?" Sybil stammered.

Matthew closed his eyes to try and collect himself, before speaking once again. "Reggie—Lavinia's father," he began again. "He…he told me that when a Walker bites you…you…you become infected with…with whatever it is that they have, that makes them…them."

"No…" Daisy whispered, shaking her head even before the word had left her lips, even before Matthew had finished speaking. "No…no, no, that's…that's not true…"

Matthew swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes clouding with tears. Dear God, he couldn't put it any plainer, and he didn't want to explain it a third time if he could help it.

"It is…" Lavinia whispered, her hand gently resting on Daisy's shoulder. "My…my mother was bitten by one," she murmured. "And it happened to her."

Matthew stared at her, surprised by this revelation. But then he recalled how Reggie had told him that he couldn't leave London, not yet, not until he completed some "unfinished business".

Now it all made sense. Now he knew what that unfinished business was. And he couldn't help but wonder…had he been able to do it before he died?

"No…no, that can't be…"

Matthew looked down at Sybil, who despite all of this, was still clutching William's leg, was still holding her blood-soaked apron to it, still trying to keep it upright and elevated, still trying to save the footman's life, bless her.

"No, I…I tended all those officers when the house was under attack, and…and there were men who had been bitten, and I…" she paused, shaking her head like Daisy, refusing to believe what he had said was true. But he could see the doubt clouding her brain, and while he had not been there when those attacks had taken place, and while he had not witnessed someone transform from human to Walker, he believed in what Reggie had told him. And what Lavinia now confirmed. Sybil lifted her eyes then to Tom, who was standing close, still holding the wine bottle she had asked someone to fetch. "Have you…?" she began and then shook her head and tried to rephrase her question. "Do you know…do you know anything about this?"

Tom looked at him, and Matthew swallowed, setting his jaw and gazing back at the Irishman. He could tell that Tom believed him, that Tom had put the puzzle pieces together and realized that yes, this was true, and this was possible.

"Capt. Crawley?" Matthew turned his eyes once again to Daisy, whose nose was red and her cheeks swollen and pink from the tears she had shed. And he felt his throat tighten even more because he knew there was nothing he could say to stop her tears. "Please…I…I know…I know what William did was wrong, but…but please, don't…don't punish him like this, please…please let Lady Sybil help?"

Oh God. Matthew lifted his eyes to the ceiling of the shop, his jaw clenched and his hands balling into fists. He hated himself; he hated being the messenger of this sad news, he hated that he hadn't killed the Walker himself, that he hadn't killed it in time before it bit William, or that he hadn't checked to see if it was dead after William had struck it. And now, now poor Daisy thought that the reason he was saying these things was because he despised William for lying about what had really happened all those months ago? How he wanted to scream "I would take his place if I could!" and he meant that. William was the finest, bravest soldier he ever knew. William had saved his life so many times, during the War as well as now. He owed William everything…and he hated that there was nothing more he could do for the lad.

Other than, perhaps, to reassure Daisy that he didn't despise him.

"Matthew?"

He looked down at his cousin once again, who was still clutching William's leg, still refusing to loosen her grip, but whose large, blue eyes were shimmering with tears, and who was shaking her head, wanting to deny what he could see was dawning truth.

With a heavy sigh, he knelt next to Sybil, and carefully laid his hand over hers. "Let me take his leg, Sybil," he whispered. "You've done enough."

"NO!" Sybil screamed, and without warning, she balled her hands into two tight fists and pounded them against Matthew's chest, nearly knocking him over by their force.

She looked ready to strike him again, but Tom was there, quickly kneeling down behind Sybil, his own hands grabbing her wrists and trying to hold her back as best he could. Which was a difficult task, because she fought; she tried to shake his hold from her and she thrashed about in the Irishman's arms. But eventually her struggles died down, until she was simply sobbing, her body crumpling into a ball and shaking as she cried.

Tom was still there, his hands never loosening their hold on her wrists until she crumbled, the action causing her arms to move around herself, and thus Tom moving his arms around her. With his lips in her hair, the Irishman held her and whispered soothing words in his native tongue, rocking her gently against his body as she cried for the fallen hero who she so desperately was trying to save.

Matthew turned his eyes again to Daisy, who was simply sitting there, still and numb, tears rolling down her cheeks as she seemed to processing everything that he and Lavinia had revealed to her. Every so often she would shake her head, but unlike before, no words came out.

He swallowed and turned his eyes again to Lavinia, who sadly held his gaze, and gave a tiny nod of with her head. He knew exactly what she was telling him, and he hated that she was right. They would have to do something before the transformation took place; they couldn't let William become one of those things, they couldn't let Daisy see him like that.

Matthew nodded his head back at Lavinia, and she seemed to understand him too, because she turned then to Daisy, and carefully tried to put her arm around the small kitchen maid's shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak, but before the words left her throat, everyone froze and went silent, including Sybil, as the faintest of voices filled the space around them.

"Sir…?"

Matthew leaned close, reaching his free hand out to William, clutching the private's shoulder and trying desperately to see the other man's eyes, which were hidden beneath his hooded lashes. "I'm here, William, I'm here," he quickly answered, leaning closer.

A faint smile spread across the younger man's face and Matthew felt his heart break again at the sight. But he needed to be strong for the private; it was his turn to be the brave one. "I'm here," he repeated again. "Are you in pain? We have some wine for you; we can give you some wine." Surely they could do that for him? As Lavinia said, surely they could see to the man's comfort during his last moments and try to make them as painless as possible?

William carefully shook his head. "I…I don't feel anything," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Sybil clamped a hand over her mouth at these words, and turned her face towards Tom's chest, burying it there against him while his arms remained tight around her, one hand in her hair, his lips against her brow and temple, still murmuring words to her in Gaelic.

"Is it…is it true?" he rasped, trying to open his eyes a little wider as he gazed back at Matthew. "What you say about…about being bitten?"

He wished it wasn't, but as he glanced back at Lavinia, Matthew knew sadly that it was. "Yes, William, I'm afraid so," he replied, the emotion growing in his voice.

William gave a small nod, and then freed one of his hands from Daisy's iron grasp, and reached forward towards his former captain.

Matthew didn't hesitate; he took hold of William's hand in his own and gripped it, hard, trying to hide his shock at how cold the hand felt. "Promise…promise me, sir…" William rasped. "You…you won't let me—"

He knew what William was asking of him, and he couldn't let the young man finish his sentence. He didn't think he could bear hearing those words and he didn't want Daisy or Sybil to hear them, either. "I promise, William, I promise," he was quick to reply.

William gave a faint smile and squeezed Matthew's hand. "Thank you, sir…it's been an honor to serve with you."

Oh God, please no! No, no, not like this, please…

But now was not the time for tears. He would grieve later. Right now, William needed to hear other words spoken by him. "No, Mason, the honor has been all mine," he somehow managed to rasp, before lifting his hand to his brow and giving the private a salute. "You are the bravest man I know and it is I who have been most honored to serve with you."

He faintly smiled at this and Matthew watched with a heavy heart as the lad lifted his hand to his own brow to return the salute. "Will you…will you look after Daisy for me?" he asked next. "Help her with her shooting lessons?"

"Oh William!" Daisy cried, finally giving way to her sobs once again, her head falling forward, her brow pressed against his, her hands cupping his face and running her fingers along his cheeks.

"It's alright," he whispered, his hands weakly touching hers. "But you must…you must continue your practice; please, please promise me that you will."

"I'll teach her," Tom's voice spoke then.

Matthew looked at his friend who still cradled Sybil in his arms, his chin resting atop her head, his eyes locked with William's as he spoke.

"We both will," Matthew added. It was the least he could do.

"Thank you…" William murmured, moving his eyes back to Tom's. "I'm…I'm so sorry Mr. Branson, for…for what happened to your brother—"

"I'll find him, don't worry about that," Tom interrupted, clearly fighting his own emotion, like Matthew. "But thank you, for bringing me here; for telling me about him."

William smiled weakly, and then turned his attentions back to the sobbing kitchen maid who continued to cradle his head on her lap and run her tiny fingers across his face. "Daisy…I…I want you to know something—"

"No, William, please…please don't say it," she moaned, shaking her head, her hand even moving down to cover his mouth.

William's shaky fingers took hold of hers and he gently kissed them, before bringing them away from his lips. "I want to…" he rasped. "Please, I…this may be my last chance."

Daisy continued to shake her head, but she didn't stop him as he told her, before a small group of witnesses, how much he loved her, how he had loved her ever since she came to work at Downton, how he always thought her the most beautiful woman, both in that kitchen and in that house. How the very thought of her was what gave him strength during the War, was what kept him alive. And how despite everything that had happened now, he would do it all over again, if it meant keeping her safe.

Matthew felt a hand touch his own, and he looked down to see that Lavinia had reached out for him. She kept her eyes on the kitchen maid and the footman, but she clung to his hand while William confessed his love.

He didn't remove his hand; if anything, he clung to it as well, gently squeezing her fingers. But his mind wasn't there, but with another, a woman back at Downton who, like Daisy for William, had kept him going during the War's bloodiest moments. And that ultimately had been his siren's call back to Downton after waking in this world gone to hell.

Daisy's tear-filled eyes lifted then, very quickly, and Matthew was actually startled by the desperation which he saw in them.

"Capt. Crawley…I…" she looked down at William, who was grimacing a little, as if he were in pain, though he denied it. She ran her fingers along William's cheek, brushing some of his fringe out of his eyes…and then once again lifted her eyes to Matthew's, and startled everyone when she asked, "will you marry us?"

Matthew nearly fell backwards at her question. "W-w-w-what?"

"Marry us," Daisy repeated, her small voice growing more and more determined.

He honestly didn't know what to say. How…how could he…?

"You're a captain!" she stated, as if she could read his thoughts and was answering the question. "And captains have that power, do they not? To marry people?"

She was thinking of a naval captain, like the captain of a ship. Yes, they had the authority to wed couples, but army captains?

"That's right, Daisy," Lavinia answered, putting on a smile for the kitchen maid.

Matthew's eyes widened and he looked to Lavinia, wondering if she was also confused by Daisy's assumption about any man who held the title of "captain". However when Lavinia's eyes locked with his, he could see that she did understand the difference, that she was aware…and that it didn't matter. Not in this moment.

"Yes, Daisy, Capt. Crawley can do that," she continued, her eyes holding Matthew's for a moment longer, before turning back to Daisy's and giving the woman a sympathetic smile. "And we shall all be your witnesses."

"Daisy…" William's voice was strained, and with a shaky hand he lifted it to the girl's face. "You…you don't have to—"

"I do," Daisy answered, blushing slightly as she realized the very words she had spoken. She took hold of William's hand and laced their fingers together, before bringing them to her lips, mimicking the same action he had done earlier for her hand. "I want to."

Matthew swallowed and glanced back and forth between Daisy and William, and Lavinia who was still holding his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I um…" he suddenly felt rather lightheaded. "I um…I've never performed a marriage before, I'm not sure I know the right words to say?"

"I think in a situation like this," Lavinia whispered. "Certain formalities can be brushed aside; all that matters are the vows exchanged."

If he could, he would ask Lavinia to perform this sudden ceremony that had been thrust upon him. He was amazed at how calm she was handling herself, and he envied her. He also, strangely, found himself envying William, who was gazing up at the woman whose lap supported his head, and who was looking down upon him with nothing but the sweetest tenderness. How often had he dreamed of Mary looking at him in such a way? Had she ever looked at him like that? Once, perhaps; before all this madness, before they had allowed their stubborn pride to get the better of them and drive them apart.

Dear Lord, would she ever look at him like that again?

"Go on…" Lavinia whispered, encouraging him and squeezing his hand again. Her smile gave him strength, and once again, Matthew found himself grateful for having met Lavinia Swire.

He glanced over at Tom and Sybil, both of whom were gazing at William and Daisy, but who hadn't loosened their hold one another, either. Sybil's sobs had ceased, but silent tears still dripped down her cheeks. Her hands were clasped to those of Tom's which were wrapped around her, holding her against his chest, his cheek leaning against her brow. They were lost in their own world, it seemed, much like William and Daisy.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and imagined Mary standing before him, dressed in white lace and silk, a sheer veil covering her ivory face, her dark eyes gazing back at him through its netting. What would the vicar say if it were their wedding?

"William…" he began. "Will you take Daisy to be your wife? To love her and cherish her, honor and keep her, now—" his voice caught in his throat as the words "until death do you part" began to emerge. How could he say that since the lad was at death's door right now?

But he didn't have to say them. William answered himself.

"I do," he rasped, bringing Daisy's hand to his lips and kissing the knuckles tenderly.

Daisy smiled despite her tears and squeezed his other hand, never letting it go.

"Daisy," Matthew managed to collect himself. "Will you take William to be your husband? To love him and cherish him, honor and keep him—"

"I do," Daisy gasped, swallowing back the sob that threatened to burst forth. Matthew couldn't deny he was grateful for the eager response; he knew he would be a blubbering mess himself, if he had to carry the vows further.

"Then…then I pronounce you husband and wife," he managed to finish, thankful again for Lavinia's reassuring squeeze. She was telling him that he had done well.

Daisy smiled at this, and bent her head then, until her lips brushed those of William's. It was the first kiss she had initiated between the two of them since before he had gone to join the army. The last time she had kissed him had been when she had found him sulking in the Servant's Hall, after the humiliation of being handed a white feather for cowardice. She had kissed him then to cheer him up, but for no other reason than that. She liked William, very much, and there was a part of her that thought perhaps…with time…she could like him in a way similar to the way he liked her. But her kiss had given him false hope, and with Mrs. Patmore's pressuring, soon Daisy found herself "engaged" to William, as a means to give him hope during the War. She hated the lie, but at the same time, she hated the thought of breaking his heart. Now the War was over, but a different war was raging, and somewhere in the chaos of it all, Daisy never got around to "breaking the engagement". Now, as she gazed down at this man, who had always been so brave, who always tried to do the right thing and put others before himself…she was grateful she hadn't.

Oh the cruelty of such irony; now, as he lay dying on her lap, she realized how much he did mean to her, and how dearly that she did love him.

Was it cruel, in their last moments together, to ask Capt. Crawley to marry them? She was very much aware that they would only be husband and wife for so many minutes.

Or was it good? Was it the right thing to do?

The smile he gave her was her answer.

No one said anything. They all just sat around William, keeping vigil, watching him as he lay as comfortable as possible; his head nestled on Daisy's lap while her fingers continued to stroke his face.

While Lavinia's hold on Matthew's hand eventually loosened to the point where they could release one another, Matthew's hold on Sybil's blood-soaked apron around William's leg did not. He couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he was being cruel, in trying to keep the bleeding at bay. Was it better to let the lad die faster by bleeding out? Or did it matter? He just prayed that William truly wasn't feeling any pain. Yet judging from the way he was gazing at Daisy, he doubted William was aware of anything else happening around him.

They all seemed to sit there for quite some time. Silence filled the room, only broken every so often by soft whispers between William and Daisy, as well as the sounds of their lips kissing one another. Matthew's gaze fell to William's chest, and watched as its movements began to slow. The rise and fall of it began to lessen…bit by bit…slower…and slower…until…

It had stopped moving.

Lavinia leaned close to inspect what the rest of them suspected. She then sat back and lifted her eyes to Matthew.

No gestures, no words, just a simple look that told him everything he needed to know.

William was gone.

"If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy…"

Matthew's eyes moved to Daisy, who was still stroking William's face, her lips hovering over his brow, and her small, soft voice, quietly filling the air around them.

"Nothing else would matter in the world today,
We could go on loving in the same…old…way…"

Her voice broke then, and Matthew couldn't blame her. The tears he had fought so long to suppress found their freedom at last. Sybil was crying again, and when Matthew glanced their way, noticed that Tom had tears in his eyes too.

And Lavinia, sweet and strong Lavinia; she was wiping her eyes as well, while also rising to her feet and taking a few steps away from the newly grieving widow. Matthew swallowed and let his eyes follow Lavinia as she hugged her arms around herself and went to stand in a nearby corner. He caught her gaze, and even though no words or gestures were spoken or given, he could tell that she was asking him to join her.

So he did. For the first time since taking William's bleeding leg from Sybil's hand, he finally released it, tenderly placing it down on the ground, his fingers trembling, covered slightly with William's blood.

He didn't bother cleaning himself. He simply walked over to where Lavinia stood, and waited for her to speak first.

"We don't have much time," she whispered.

He knew what she meant. "How…how soon?"

Lavinia sighed and shook her head. "I…I don't know, but…but from what I have observed, this is how it happens. A person dies, a short period passes, and then…then they rise."

And then they rise.

William had asked him to not let this happen, to not allow him to become a monster, and by God, Matthew was going to keep that promise. And it had to be him to do it. "Alright," he sighed at last, glancing over his shoulder at Daisy, who was still holding William to her, still brushing her fingers across his cold face, still humming her song like a sweet lullaby.

"I'll see to Daisy," Lavinia whispered.

Matthew forced a smile, grateful for her help. He looked then to Tom and Sybil, both of whom remained curled up with one another. He caught Tom's eye and prayed that his friend would understand, and thankfully, he did.

"Best to go now," he murmured into Sybil's ear.

Sybil had been resting her head against Tom's shoulder, her face pressed against the fabric of his shirt, which no doubt was sadly soaked through due the tears she had wept for poor William. She had just witnessed the saddest and most beautiful thing in the entire world, and she felt hollow and numb, as well as filled with overflowing emotion. The thing that was grounding her, that was keeping her from melting to the ground in a sorrowful mess was Tom.

Tom; whose strong arms and soothing voice were both her anchor and her stronghold.

"Go?" she whispered, turning her face slightly towards his.

"Aye," he whispered, moving to stand and bringing her with him.

Sybil glanced down at William and Daisy once more, and then moved her eyes across the room to where both Lavinia and Matthew were standing. She held her cousin's gaze, and saw the sorrowful reality in the blue of his eyes, and realized then, what he was going to do.

She wanted to protest. She wanted to stop him from what he was going to do, she didn't want to believe that it was possible, that someone as dear and lovely and sweet as William could become…

"Come on love," Tom murmured, his hand on her shoulder, trying to turn and guide her away from the others and out of the shop.

It wasn't easy, because Sybil didn't want to move, she wanted to run back to Matthew and ask him if he was sure this was going to happen, that maybe he was wrong, maybe there still was a chance to save William!

But her heart knew the truth, even if her head didn't want to believe it. "This isn't right…" she whispered to Tom as she finally allowed him to guide her away.

"No, it isn't," he whispered back, his arm around her shoulders only tightening more with every step. "This world hasn't been right for some time."

Matthew let out a long, heavy sigh, as he watched his friend guide his cousin away and lead her, finally, out the door of the shop. Now he just needed Lavinia to take Daisy away.

"Daisy?" Lavinia murmured, carefully approaching the kitchen maid who was still keeping vigil over William. She didn't respond, so Lavinia murmured her name again. "Daisy?"

"Hmmm?"

The girl didn't lift her head or make any other sounds, other than the one she had just made to indicate that she was aware she was being spoken to.

Lavinia glanced at Matthew, looking a little worried, before swallowing and kneeling once again by Daisy's side. "Come my dear, we should be on our way…"

"We have to bury him," Daisy whispered, her fingers still running over William's cold, pale face.

"And we will," Lavinia assured, her hands tentatively moving to Daisy's shoulders in an attempt to encourage her to stand and lead her away just as Tom had managed to do with Sybil. But Daisy wouldn't budge; she remained where she was, and despite her small size, refused to be moved.

She lifted her eyes then to Matthew's, and he momentarily taken aback by the haunted look in he saw in their depths. "I'll do it," she whispered.

Matthew paled at her words. Lavinia also seemed shocked, and quickly began to shake her head. "Daisy, come with me," she urged once more. "Let's go outside and find a place to bury William; I'm sure there are some beautiful gardens—"

"Please, Capt. Crawley," Daisy whispered, ignoring Lavinia and keeping her eyes on Matthew. "Let me do this; let me do this for my husband."

Matthew was speechless. What could he say? How could he refuse her? But the question was, could she do it? Could the sweet, small kitchen maid, hold a pistol to William's brow and pull the trigger?

Lavinia looked at him, unsure what to say or do, clearly not approving of what Daisy wanted, but by that same token, not arguing with her further about it.

He realized then that it was up to him. If he said no, and was firm, he was sure that both he and Lavinia could convince Daisy to go and leave him to the task.

But if he said yes…

Could he say yes?

If it were him, lying in William's place, who would he want to pull the final trigger?

"Please, Capt. Crawley," Daisy whispered again, her eyes shining with tears, her cheeks pink and puffy, her plea evident across her face.

He couldn't refuse her.

"Alright," he whispered, his own voice very hoarse and raw with emotion. "But I'll stay with you."

Daisy nodded her head, satisfied with this. Lavinia looked wary and slowly rose to her feet. "Are you sure?" she whispered to him. No; no he wasn't sure about anything, really. This so-called rescue mission for Tom's brother had become a nightmare, and now they would be returning to Downton with Kieran Branson and without William. No, nothing made sense anymore, and he doubted it ever would in a world such as this. So instead of answer her, he simply nodded his head, and went back to where William lay, kneeling before the lad and offering a pistol to the kitchen maid.

Outside the shop, Tom had managed to lead Sybil away, back to the car where the supplies that Lavinia and Daisy had gathered remained. He thought he could make themselves busy, that perhaps by loading the boxes and crates that both Miss Swire and the kitchen maid had gathered, it would be enough of a distraction from the tragedy that lay behind them…and that was still to come.

Yet Sybil was pacing, her arms wrapped around herself, one hand at her lips where she chewed on the fingernails of one hand, while her feet shuffled back and forth, creating a strange trench in the dust of the road.

Tom didn't know what to say. He was at a complete loss. He had never been in a situation like this. There was only one person he had cared about, one person he had looked out for, and that person was missing. In Liverpool, when all of this began, it was always him and Kieran, the Branson brothers, that was all that mattered, just looking out for themselves, and if trouble came along, no matter what group or community they had found relief with, the mantra was always the same: concentrate on your own survival; abandon the others. Family—your own flesh and blood—that was what mattered. That was all that mattered.

"You can't trust anyone but your own flesh and blood!" Kieran had once shouted at him. "You can't save the world, Tommy! Just accept that! But you can save yourself, and that's what we're going to do, little brother; save ourselves. WE are going to be the ones to make it out of this mess alive, you understand? US. And we can't let others slow us down. And we can't allow our emotions to get the better of us, do you understand?"

It was an easy mantra to uphold when his brother was with him. But these last few weeks, he found himself troubled, because God help him he was starting to care about the people around him, this strange little community of survivors hiding in a Yorkshire manor house, pretending as if nothing had happened while being completely aware that the world was different. These were the sort of people Kieran would greet with a spit on the ground, because in his eyes, they deserved to be made food for the Walkers. His brother would see opportunities to advance their cause, but he wouldn't see potential allies or friends. Tom even sometimes wondered if Kieran would have abandoned him, if he had had the chance. Maybe that was why he hadn't found his brother yet; maybe his brother didn't want to be found?

"I've known him all my life…"

Tom was shaken from his thoughts and turned his gaze to Sybil. She was staring off into the distance, but had momentarily ceased her pacing.

"When we were children," she continued. "He was just the son of one of Papa's tenant's then, but…but we would have celebrations at the house…garden parties and…and assemblies, where…where the villagers were invited to join us, and…and we were similar in age, so we would often play together…" her voice began to trail off, and Tom could see the tears falling afresh down her face.

He hadn't known William for that long, but despite the recent news about the lad knowing his brother was chained to a wall in the village, he did find that he liked him. He seemed like a good man, and no one could deny that he was brave, perhaps to the point of foolishness, but…he was certainly admirable. And it was clear, like Sybil, that William thought of others, to the point of putting them before himself, just as he had done by volunteering to go back and find Matthew the other day, or volunteering to come back and help him find Kieran, or volunteering to lead the group of them down that dark tunnel…

…Or how he purposefully lifted his girl, the kitchen maid, out of harm's way…allowing the Walker to bite him.

This was the very thing Kieran had always warned him about. You start to care for others, you open yourself up to becoming the victim.

And Tom was in danger of that. No, he was passed the danger, because he did care about others; he cared about Matthew, who in many ways was a kinder version of his brother. And he cared about Sybil…

Yes, he cared about Sybil very much. Too much for his own good.

Ever since that night in the orchard, he had felt a growing tug around his heart for the girl. In the beginning he thought it was nothing more than lust; after all, she was quite pretty and he hadn't been in the company of a beautiful woman since Liverpool. But with every passing day, as he watched her and listened to her and spent time in her company, even if it were only for a few minutes, Tom was finding it more and more difficult to ignore these emotions and think of it as "simple lust" and nothing more.

And then just now, while they were in the shop, after William's attack, when he tried to pull her away from Matthew, when he wrapped his arms around her in hopes to calm her…and to comfort her as she cried…

He had held her once, after their attack at the petrol station. That time it had been out of sheer relief that they had survived. And he could say something similar about this situation; she was grieving, once again reliving the horror of having to watch a person she cared for, a friend, die in front of her. And yes, despite the cynical nature that lurked within him and that Kieran seemed to constantly feed, he did believe Sybil saw William as a friend, and not just a servant. Sybil Crawley was different, not just to other posh girls of her class, but…to any other person that he knew.

And it scared him. It scared him how…how much he had come to care for her, how deeply he cared.

And even though his brother's voice was screaming at him in his head, he never loosened his hold on her; he never let her go. He held her, he rocked her in his arms, and he allowed himself the pleasure of pressing his lips to her hair, to her brow, feeling the soft, sweet skin against mouth, and the heavenly scent of her hair against his nostrils.

Right. That was how it felt to hold her then. It felt right. And now, as they were outside the shop, waiting for the inevitable, his arms ached to hold her again, especially as he watched her pace and tremble and heard the sobs in her throat. His heart broke for her and his arms longed to hold her again. And not just that, to hold her and bring her closer to his body, to feel her head rest against his shoulder, her face burrow against his chest, before looking up at him…just as she had done when they had suggested they leave the shop. He was very aware to how close their faces were when she turned to look up at him. And he was very, very aware to how tempting it was to kiss her.

To kiss her. God how he wanted to kiss her. This wasn't the first time he thought such things, but now he felt the urge, the need even more so, because he had held her so close and so tightly.

She was like opium; he hadn't even tasted her yet, and yet he hopelessly was addicted.

The sudden sound of a bang filled the air.

Sybil jumped. He jumped too.

Her eyes went wide and he turned to look at him, her face growing paler by the second. His heart broke at the look, because he saw the hopeless prayer in her eyes, the wish that what she had just heard hadn't indicated what had just happened. But she knew better, and he could see that in her eyes.

Her face crumpled then, and Tom didn't hesitate. In one step, he was by her side, his arms once again enfolding her, clutching her, bringing to her to his chest, a hand tangling in the mass of brown curls that crowned her head, bringing her face to settle in the hollow of his throat. His lips kissed her brow, her temple; he said nothing, he simply held her and let her grieve a second time for the friend she had lost.

Sybil was grateful to Tom, and she clutched him, clung to him, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as she sobbed against him, pressing herself closer, burrowing herself, needing to feel his warmth, his heartbeat, needing signs of life to keep her breathing and living and hoping that despite this horrible world they now found themselves in, she would have the strength to go back to Downton and continue to live another day.

It occurred to Sybil then, and it was something that stayed with her, long after they had left the village behind. She needed him; she needed Tom just as much as she needed air to breathe.

Lavinia watched the other couple from the shop's door, her own arms moving around herself. She felt numb and cold, and she was still trembling at the haunting echo of the pistol. She swallowed and forced herself to look back, seeing Matthew sitting back and staring blankly at William's still body, and Daisy, who knelt beside her husband, pistol in one hand, the other tenderly running her fingers along his cheek…ignoring the blood that trickled from his brow.

Matthew sat there. He wasn't sure if he were in another nightmare, or back in another coma. He felt so numb he would believe either. After giving Daisy the pistol, she had leant over William's body, and with shaking hands, lifted the gun to William's brow. He waited, swallowing his emotions and nerves and trying to look stoic and brave, while at the same time trembling and worrying that she wouldn't have the strength to do this. She fidgeted with the gun, and then removed it much to Matthew's surprise, before leaning down and pressing her lips one last time to William's.

"I love you," she whispered, or so Matthew thought he had heard. She lifted the gun again, but instead of pulling the trigger like he thought, she waited.

And waited.

What was she doing? He turned to Lavinia, but she had her back to them, standing by the shop door, her arms wrapped around herself. He looked back at Daisy and noticed how she continued to stroke William's cheek and brush his hair from his face, and even though her fingers were on the trigger, she did not pull it.

Why was she waiting? He opened his mouth to question her, to even offer to take the gun back and do it for her, when he froze…as he noticed a small movement at one of William's hands.

His fingers twitched. And then he saw his chest begin to rise. Good God, was he breathing?

No…no, he realized what this was, and his eyes flew then to William's face…and he saw the lad's eyelids, which had been closed earlier…begin to flutter.

"Daisy…" he whispered, swallowing the fear that was now lodged in his throat.

She didn't say anything; she didn't even look at him. But she was aware, because she was staring at William's face, the barrel of the pistol still pressed against his brow, while she still continued to stroke his face.

"Daisy…" Matthew murmured again, his voice rising just a little. William's eyes were opening now, and they were ghostly pale, opaque even.

They were the eyes of a dead man.

William opened his mouth…and a strange, deep, inhuman sound came forth.

"Daisy!" Matthew hissed, as the creature that was once William looked around and focused on the kitchen maid hovering above him, before opening his mouth as if he were eager to take a bite out of the arm that was holding the pistol.

"Goodbye," she murmured to the creature that had been her husband.

She pulled the trigger. And the movements stopped.


Daisy and Sybil sat huddled together in the backseat of the Renault that Tom drove. Matthew drove the Rolls-Royce, and Lavinia sat next to him.

The sky was getting dark, and any hope of continuing the search for Kieran had to be put to rest. Tom didn't argue, he simply nodded his head and went to fetch the Renault which they had left near the constable's station.

They buried William near a grove of elm trees, just a few feet away from the shop. Matthew had wanted to bury him near the place where he had buried Mrs. Bird and Molesley, but it was too far away and they needed to leave the village as soon as they could.

They all helped in burial, and as they worked Tom surprised all of them by singing something in Latin, something haunting and mournful that Matthew could only assume it was a song to honor the dead. Sybil murmured the Lord's Prayer when they had finished, and all of them joined in unison. Daisy knelt at the ground, kissed her fingers before pressing them against the earth…and then broke down completely, crumpling into a ball and sobbing. Sybil and Lavinia knelt down and hugged her, and Tom and Matthew took several deep breaths, before softly murmuring the importance of heading back to the house.

And so here they were. Driving back to Downton, and feeling completely hollow.

"I…I want to thank you," Matthew murmured, turning to Lavinia. "For all that you did back there."

Lavinia seemed surprised, but he wasn't sure if that was because of his words, or because that he had chosen to break the silence. Either way, she offered a small smile and murmured, "It was my pleasure," before turning her head once again to gaze at the passing countryside.

She was an extraordinary woman, Miss Lavinia Swire. He had once entertained the thought of…of giving his heart to her.

But he realized, especially after returning to Downton, that his heart had always belonged to the dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty that was the eldest daughter to the Earl of Grantham.

"Do you think they'll have been worried?" Lavinia asked, as the house finally came into view.

Matthew didn't know how to answer that. Mary had been extremely worried when he had announced that he would go to help Tom find his brother, but then after their kiss, she had become very cold and distant and quickly disappeared. Was she waiting and worrying for him? Did he fill her thoughts the way she filled his?

He would soon have his answer.

Both the Rolls-Royce and the Renault pulled up the drive, and even before they reached the door, several people were pouring out, a combination of both upstairs and downstairs.

"OH THANK GOD!" Anna cried, rushing forward to the Rolls-Royce and smiling at both Lavinia and Matthew. "We were so worried!"

Robert came rushing forward then, bursting passed Carson and Mrs. Hughes who had followed right behind Anna, and went straight for Sybil, who hadn't even had the chance to climb out of the car, before embracing her. "Oh thank heaven, thank heaven!" he gasped, holding her so tightly.

Sybil didn't bother holding back her sniffles, and clutched at her father, grateful to feel his embrace. She lifted her eyes and smiled through her tears at the sight of her sisters; Edith came rushing forward then to hold her, while Mary whispered her name, and took several steps forward but stopped…and stared ahead at Matthew.

"Mary…" Matthew whispered, looking back at her, and then feeling his jaw set as Sir Richard emerged from the doorway, his hand moving around Mary's shoulder.

"Where's William?"

Everyone seemed to freeze then at the sound of the housekeeper's voice. She looked at Matthew and then at Tom and then at the others. "And…and Mr. Branson's brother?"

Tom slammed the door shut to the Renault and began to move away from the car. Mrs. Hughes' brow furrowed and then she looked again at Matthew for some sort of confirmation on what had happened, and then her eyes fell on Daisy.

And once again, the kitchen maid began to sob, before flying to the housekeeper's arms.

Robert looked at the crying kitchen maid and then turned his gaze to Matthew. "William…he…he…" he couldn't finish the sentence, but Robert understood and closed his eyes, nodding his head sadly.

"Sybil?"

A new voice filled the air, and everyone turned to look. Matthew frowned as he saw three strange looking men stand at the doorway. No, no one of the men he had seen before, a man who met his eyes and then looked away. He couldn't remember the man's name, but he remembered him; didn't he once come to Downton with a Turkish gentleman? But who were the other two? One was smoking a cigar, standing off to the side and not saying anything, while the other, a very tall, lean man, with black hair, came down the steps of the house to the drive, and stopped just short of sweeping his cousin up into his arms.

Sybil stared at the man and gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Larry?"

The man laughed and grinned and then did that very thing, sweeping Sybil up off her feet and hugging her, much to the dismay of the others, including Sybil.

Matthew's eyes flew to Tom, and saw the Irishman's fists clench as he took in the sight.

"W-w-what are you doing here?" Sybil gasped, pushing on the forearms of the man who was holding her.

The man didn't seem to mind; in fact he only chuckled before finally resettling her on her feet. "Oh come now, Sybil, is that any way to greet your fiancée?"

A gasp went up from several around them, including Sybil. Matthew's eyes went wide and he looked to Robert, wondering who on earth this man—all of these men—were and where they had come from? He then turned again to look at Tom.

But the Irishman had disappeared.


Just to answer a question that was asked of me in a previous chapter; when a Walker bites someone, they become infected. However it all comes down to the severity of the wound into how long it takes for the transformation to happen. Also, for those that are fans of The Walking Dead, which I'm basing most of my "zombie-lore" from with this chapter, in *this* world, you only become Walkers if you are bitten by a Walker; end of story. Hope despite the sadness, you enjoyed this chapter! ONE MORE WILL BE COMING SOON!