Thank you for reading, I know this is getting messy, and I'm afraid it doesn't get much better, but I hope the messiness makes for enjoyable reading :)

Apologies for any spelling/ grammar mistakes

Why didn't Jimmy tell anyone? Why couldn't he do it? Perhaps he just didn't want to. He cared about Alex, he didn't want to believe that everything he read, everything he believed about the second footman was true. He shared with Alex; he was the first man with whom he had ever shared more than a kiss, who had ever seen him naked, who had every part of his body under Jimmy's lips. Now Jimmy had blackmailed him, he had ruined their friendship, and any chance he had of any kind of serious sexual endeavour with the handsome second footman. He was truly desperate. He still had Rose, Jimmy kept his options open there. He faltered with Alex. He could have had sex with Alex if he wanted it, so why didn't he? He had to lose his virginity at some point. Why not to a noble woman? She was pretty after all. She was no Alex, no Thomas, but she was someone he felt he could trust, and maybe even like, she was nice and they had things in common. Why not?

He was ready. He wanted it, he needed it, the half bottle of whisky he snuck into Thomas' room to pilfer, now spilling through his system, told him as much. There she was stood, waiting for him, in the dimly lit guest room, she wore a thin floor length night dress, leaving little to the imagination. Everyone in the house was asleep, the late hour saw to that, only Jimmy and the young lady remained awake, ready for a night of intense pleasure. Though Jimmy wanted it, it was difficult for him to commit when he could not walk in a straight line. He sucked in his breath and walked as slowly and proudly as he could under the circumstances. If the young lady noticed Jimmy's incapacity she did not say so, even though he could not disguise the hard hitting smell of liquor which wafted under her nose as she tip toed up to the footman and planted a small supple kiss on his pert lips in greeting. Taking his sweating hands in her small ones she led him over to the bed. She sat down, waiting for him to manoeuvre her back onto the mattress whilst she undid his dressing gown.

Jimmy looked at her. She was so very pretty; he always found it strange that ladies got dressed to go to bed, spending time on their hair of all things. In this instance it would be understandable, but Jimmy thought Rose shouldn't have bothered, his vision was slightly blurred and he wouldn't be thinking of her when they got down to it. His eyes looked down her nightdress, her breasts in proportion with her slender body. Why wouldn't Jimmy want her? The answer was obvious and it only made him more nauseous. Rose did not see Jimmy's discomfort, only his eyes looking down her dress, she giggled, believing she was giving off the desired effect. She gently pulled Jimmy onto her by his dressing gown, and the footman let himself be pulled into a deep kiss. Why did a woman's tongue feel so different to a man's? A distinct taste… of bad conscience; but could it have laced both their tongues? He didn't feel anything except for discomfort coursing its way through his bones. He couldn't force himself to perform, but the sight of her curves, her feminine face, the sweet smell of flowers, it did nothing for him. He wished God would stretch out his hand and smite him, to share a similar fate as the late Kamal Pamuk. He felt wretched, but the girl attached to his face had no inkling of his despair, for she was determined to have the young footman who ensnared her senses, if only she knew what he was thinking.

Alex.

Alex.

Alex.

That image of the second footman's strong hand on his throbbing erection back in the stairwell was enough to encourage his penis to rise in the presence of this girl who was only spurred on by this positive expression. Jimmy responded to her kisses, his tongue tantalising hers the way he had with Alex, his hand travelled up the skin of her leg as he pulled up her dress, imagining Alex's naked thighs under his palm. He remembered the taste of Alex's sex, it tasted like nothing he knew and could never be matched, he yearned for it again. It was when his hand moved in between Rose's legs that he stopped, he opened his eyes, the girl looking back at him in anticipation for what she believed was coming, waiting for those fingers she had seen move so skilfully in the dining room to caress her and bring her to ecstasy.

He knew something was wrong as the girl's features changed into worry and fear. She didn't know what she had done wrong, but the footman leaning over her was visibly crying. He couldn't feel it, but only see it in the reflection of her eyes that she could see he wasn't right. Had what Alex said to him affected him that much the other day at breakfast? He was lying to himself, lying to everyone, he was no better than Alex. "Jimmy? Is everything alright?"

Through his gasps, his drunken breaths, he managed the words, barely discernible; "No. Nothing is."

"Alex? What are you doing down here?" The first footman adjusted his eyes to the darkness of the servants' hall as he came in for a glass of water to clear his mind after his unfortunate encounter with Rose, only to find Alex sat at the table in his running kit. The beads of sweat trailing down his forehead was enough to tell Jimmy that the second footman had been running as he always did when he needed to clear his mind and set his thoughts straight. Oh that beautiful footman who roused Jimmy's mind and body, even in exhaustion he was dazzling. Jimmy saw him and only thought of him lying naked on the bed, kissing his chest, making him forget about his deformity and his rejection from Thomas. He recalled being with him in the stairwell, his magnificent hands working their magic on his prostrate body, and the devastating thought of them waking up next to each other, it could have brought a tear to Jimmy's eye if he had any to spare.

"I'm here to give you your answer, remember? What have you been doing?" Alex could see that Jimmy was not totally present in the moment, probably due to drink, but he could not think why the youth would be driven to hit the bottle at this late hour when he had to wake for work the next morning at their usual time.

"You waiting so you could have me to yourself?" Jimmy did not want to talk about his failure with Rose, any more than he wanted to say Alex was right about him. "Admit it; you want me. You want this." Jimmy took hold of Alex's shirt and pulled him towards him, puckering his lips ready for the kiss he believed would be reciprocated in his intoxicated state, but instead he received a fist into his jaw, which felt more severe than it was, sending Jimmy reeling back into the wall.

"I told you I'd give you what was coming, drunk or sober." Alex shook his hand from the tremor of its impact into Jimmy's face.

Jimmy's hand graced his hopefully untarnished face, rolling his jaw from the pain throbbing through it. "What you doing here then?"

"To warn you;" Alex said, in less of a warning tone than he intended, "I'll tell the family what I know about you and Lady Rose if you so much as breathe a word about me."

"You've got nothing on me. What I know would put you in the slammer. I know the upper classes will get preferential treatment, but it seems pretty black and white to me, and in prison they won't like you, Your most honourable countenance!" Jimmy laughed mockingly. "Besides, you don't have to worry about me and Rose," Jimmy sniggered drunkenly, "I couldn't do it! I tried! I was there, with her, in the room, and I couldn't do it! How about that? You happy now? I'm living my life to it's brutal end; honestly! You win!"

Alex couldn't prevent feeling sympathy for the young man. He looked him over and saw the truth of Jimmy's words, just how close he got to Rose, the buttons were undone on his trousers. In his state he had forgotten to do them up, such was his hurry. Alex did not want to embarrass Jimmy further by mentioning any of it, for he knew the feeling too well and there were no fond memories involved, "Jimmy, I've got to know if you will tell them about me. Please, Jimmy!" Alex grabbed the swaying man by the collar.

"Depends how nice you are to me." Alex releasing himself from the pity he formerly held in exchange for disgust at the giggling character who now had such a hold on him.

"I'll leave," said Alex with a shaking voice, hardly believing it had come to this, "I've written a note to Thomas, telling him the truth in case this should happen, because it's clear I can't stay. I thought maybe I could reason with you, but how can I? There's no mind in there, only a hard dick!.. Will you at least give me time before you wake them?"

"How about I wake them now?" Jimmy yanked at the second footman's shorts, he had no mercy for him, only striving towards his goal of relieving himself, and he was only encouraged at the sight of Alex's underwear.

"Jimmy!" Alex slapped the youth's hands away, fiddling with his shorts to keep them up. "Do you know what will happen to me if you tell anyone? I'm innocent!"

"I'm sorry, Your Grace." Jimmy continued laughing at his use of the title which only further angered Alex, "but the law is clear."

"It's also clear about homosexuals. I could tell them about you." Alex backed up into the table fearfully as Jimmy kept pressing his advantage, the stench of alcohol looming nearer and nearer.

"Without endangering Thomas?" Jimmy smiled, placing his hands over Alex's shoulders, his palms against the wall.

"You bastard."

"What are you going to do? Huh? Kill me too?" Jimmy chuckled, but as Alex looked deep into his eyes he saw only an opportunity. There was nothing funny. Suddenly hands tightened around Jimmy's neck quickly, the force, the shock, the pushing of Alex's hands against Jimmy's jugular sent the pair back against the dining table. Alex, the fire of a dragon burning through his veins, pressed harder, Jimmy's face turned red, he gripped Alex's fingers which only succeeded in making them close down upon him. He struggled to breathe, wondering whether this moment would be his last, but in his desperation for it not to be he waved his hand across the table surface, his eyes taking in the presence of an object. Jimmy didn't know what it was, and he didn't care. He didn't care when he grabbed it, even as he saw the auburn's eyes soften and his grip release on his throat, even as he knew that the footman was going to let him go unharmed, he hit him with it over the head. The second footman fell beside Jimmy onto the table, the blonde gasping for air and taking a triumphant yet wobbly stand over Alex, wielding the candlestick in his hand like a sword, ready to strike the fallen man a second time should he attempt to get up.

But even Alex with all his strength could not fight his concussion at its onset. He was bent over the table, blood gushing from his temple, his shorts were still half way down his thigh. He couldn't move, he was so disorientated. Jimmy, seeing the blood, knew Alex wasn't getting up, and dropped the candlestick on the hard wood floor. He rubbed his neck, his heart pounded. What had just happened?

"What are you doing?" A voice came to Jimmy, who turned to see Thomas standing there.

"Thomas?" Why was he here?

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He screamed, walking briskly into the room to determine the circumstance of this unexpected encounter. The first thing he saw was Alex lying on the table, unmoving and unresponsive, with Jimmy standing over him, trousers undone, and Alex's shorts pulled down.

"I think I knocked out Alex." Jimmy said as calmly as anything, shrinking back from Thomas who came beside him and examined Alex's head, gently trying to shake him awake, but the blood told him that it was no use and the footman had to be taken to bed at once. Thomas looked at Jimmy, after all they had endured together, everything they felt for each other, that agonising concoction of emotion that sent Thomas on constant routes between heaven and hell, all came crashing down in that moment, and decisively brought his fist across into Jimmy's face. The blonde, so drunk, fell to the floor in a heap. Thomas would have gone in for a second go at him but the youth was out for the count, it was the other man who needed his attention now. Leaving Jimmy lying on the floor, Thomas put Alex's arm around his shoulders and carried him upstairs as the wounded man stirred in and out of consciousness, moaning and humming, Thomas not saying a word, just trying to imagine just what took place in that room before his arrival.

They entered Alex's room and Thomas lay the footman down on the bed, removing his shoes and covering him with the sheets. He went over to the basin of water on the side, and taking a cloth, dampened it and brought it over to rest on Alex's head, which would also help to clean the wound. Once he had done this, the under butler hurried across the hall and roused a zombified Mr Carson and Alfred and told them a brief version of what happened so the woken men might go and retrieve Jimmy from downstairs and return him to bed, and at the same time call Doctor Clarkson to see to Alex's head wound. Thomas would have done it himself, but he didn't want to leave Alex, he didn't want him to wake up alone, and if he did wake up the first thing Thomas wanted to hear from him was precisely what happened.

Thomas sat on the bed by Alex's side, holding the younger man's hand in his and wiped his brow tenderly with the wet cloth. Alex tightened his closed eyes. He could not open them, try as he might, smacking his lips to salivate his dry mouth he tried to speak.

"Thomas."

Thomas enclosed both hands firmly around the second footman's in joy that he was at least talking. "I'm here, Alex. I'm here."

"I knew you would be."

Thomas smiled, Alex beckoned him closer, but Thomas knew that the youth should be resting, not talking. "Don't speak, just lie still, quiet now. The Doctor's on his way." The older man stroked the ends of Alex's sweeping fringe, tinged with blood, which painted Thomas' ungloved fingers.

"No." Alex indicated he did not want to speak, and continued to beckon Thomas closer, Thomas leaned in, his ear near to Alex's lips so the footman might whisper if he wanted, Thomas not perceiving what else he could want or do. Alex turned his head until his lips touched Thomas' cheek and formed into a small soft kiss. "I'm so sorry." Thomas drew himself away as Alex passed out into sleep. The older stroked the younger's face, and took away the cloth to replace it with his hand.

"Alex. Alex!" Thomas rested his hand on Alex's hair, brushing the locks straying over his forehead back with his thumb to expose his moist pale skin, cooled by the water of the cloth, and without restraint Thomas pressed his lips firmly against Alex's head, with such a will that he hoped would awaken the footman and bring him back to him. He felt something in his hand; a paper. He unrolled it to see the writing of the first footman's delicate hand.

Thomas,

Please believe, if nothing else, that I did not intend this. I never intended to stay at Downton for so long, and if I did it was only because of you. I did not expect to make friends, least of all one who has been as good to me as you have. This, I know, is no way for me to repay that kindness, but not seeing you every day, or perhaps ever again, should be punishment enough for my leaving you in this way.

For if you are reading this it means that I have left Downton and no doubt the police be will be arriving, but I have to tell you the truth, I have to tell you what happened in my words, not theirs. I am so sorry, please believe that everything you know of my character is true, including our friendship, but I am not who you think I am.

You no doubt are aware that the Viscount Benoit is accused of killing his father, the Comte de Chagny, and it is suspected that he has fled to England, where he was schooled, where he attended university. Therefore, armed with an English accent and fluency in the language and culture, he could hide anywhere without suspicion, and where better than a great house in the middle of nowhere?

Mais oui, mon amis. I am Viscount Benoit.

I know you will not believe me, but it is the truth, as is the fact I did not mean to kill my father. I am not a murderer. He threatened to cut me off because he caught dallying about with a servant. That's right; Damien was my valet, but he wasn't arrested, my father sacked him. We argued, he never approved of what I was, always too soft, too feminine. Why do you think he sent me to England? To get away from him. It's no wonder the police think I had unsavoury intentions. It was nothing like that. He pushed me, I pushed him back, maybe too hard. He fell and hit his head on the table. I panicked. I fled to the place I always knew; the one place I could ever call home; England. I had a plan to hide in a great house because I would know the life. I forged a reference letter from a good friend of mine and applied immediately on arriving in England. Fortunately English news was so slow pertaining to my father's death that no one would suspect it was me because not enough time would have elapsed since my departure from France. However, circumstances are changing, I fear now that things have become hopeless, that someone will find out my secret and use it against me, I've been lucky, if not foolish, to have gotten away with it so far. I therefore have had no choice but to leave, but I couldn't do so without telling you this, that you might believe I left without a single thought for you.

I hope you can forgive me, my dear friend, I know what it cost you to trust me, and that is what has hurt me most of all.

Aurevoir, mon beau Thomas

Alexandre

A round of applause to those of you who guessed Alex's secret correctly.