Hopefully this is a slight reprieve of the last two chapters! Enjoy!

The room Tom had been given was the farthest from the elevator. Much bigger than the standard hotel or dorm lift, sized to accommodate stretchers and an army of doctors intent on saving lives, sometimes successful, sometimes not. Tom had been taken through this very lift, Sybil mused as she watched the numbers climb to the fifth floor. No longer housed in the critical ward, Sybil tried to appreciate that encouraging knowledge.

It had still been two days since he had woken though. Two days that Sybil had spent sitting by his bedside after the doctors had, "done all they could do. It was up to him now." It was up to them, she corrected. He was not alone, she was close by the entire time. Thomas stayed by her side, keeping vigil on Tom's other side. Jon had gone to collect some things for Sybil, some clothes for her and Tom and some food Gwen had packed, which lay untouched in a brown sack by the door.

Jimmy tried to urge Thomas away this morning, but he wouldn't budge. As long as Sybil was staying, so would he. She welcomed his presence, someone else who loved Tom, keeping her company. They didn't speak much, taking turns napping in the uncomfortable chairs while the other checked Tom for signs of waking. The blood loss was the most troubling for Sybil, lingering traces of it still coating her hands and clothes. She had planned on changing clothes after being assured Tom was out of danger, but she couldn't muster the motivation.

She stared at her pale flesh, stained with his dried blood and tried to will him awake. She pleaded, begged and prayed, all with no effect. He lay motionless, hooked up to machines and covered with a sterile white blanket. His own clothes had been disposed of in the emergency room, cut away from his body to investigate his injuries quicker, with him unresponsive as he was. He now wore a pale green hospital gown and Sybil could hear him making some crack about Thomas's dream come true, him immobile and easily accessible to wandering hands. She snorted, causing Thomas to look up, head resting in his hand braced against the arm rest. He looked at her quizzically and she just shook her head.

Huffing out an exhausted breath, Thomas stood abruptly. "Come on then. Up you go." He gestured up with his hand and she could only stare blankly.

"It's been two days Sybil, he won't thank you for starving yourself or the babe. Down to the cafeteria with you." He pointed out the door, expecting her to obey just like his employees would, used to his command during intense situations.

"Bully that, I'm not going anywhere." She protested, not willing to be away if were to wake. She wouldn't leave him.

"I'm not telling you to go home or pop down to the studio to teach a class, its three floors down. You need to eat, the baby needs to eat. You're barely able to keep your eyes open. And whatever Jon brought smells like someone already ate and digested it." Thomas said, eyeing the closed sack near the door. Sybil took silent inventory of her body. She supposed she was hungry, or empty. She couldn't tell which but maybe it was a good idea to at least try and eat something. She still didn't want to leave Tom alone.

Suddenly Thomas was crouched in front of her, resting his hands lightly on hers perched delicately in her lap. "It's ok. I won't leave him for a minute. Go grab something to munch on, I'll keep him safe."

Looking into his eyes she felt his sincerity. She nodded silently, gazing back at Tom's still form and deciding he would be ok for a few minutes. Just then, the baby gave a turn in her belly, demanding attention. She stood determinedly, grabbing her purse from the table with one last look to Thomas, taken up residence in her chair, reaching out to hold Tom's limp hand with a sigh of resignation.

It turned out to be a very enlightening experience. A trip down to the bustling cafeteria, nurses and doctors intermingling with patients and visitors. Picking up a few items, fruit, sandwiches and a few bottles of water Sybil made her way to the checkout. A small blonde doctor was stood in front of her making her own purchase. After paying she turned to find a chair, noticing Sybil right behind her.

"Miss Crawley! How are you?" Doctor Smith asked, noting Sybil's bloodied hands and bedraggled appearance.

"It's….Tom. He was attacked and…hasn't woken up yet." Sybil choked out, unable to stop the emotion entering her voice. Anna took her arm, pulling her to a chair and setting her gently into it. Opening one of the bottles of water she gestured Sybil to take a drink. Feeling much better Sybil began to relay the story of what happened.

"Head wounds can be tricky, that's for sure. But it's not necessarily a bad thing he's still asleep. The body needs time to heal itself, after a trauma. Sleep is truly the best medicine for something like that. I'll look in with his attending doctor and see if there's anything else to be done right now, but I think waiting for him to wake on his own is going to be the best course of action. How's the baby?" she asked kindly.

"It's fine. Very active all of a sudden. I keep feeling these little flutters just when I've convinced myself that we seemed to be doomed, a little brush from the inside reminds me how blessed we've been." Sybil smiled serenely, caressing the slight swell under her shirt.

"That you have. I've never seen a couple so in love as you two. It's like you're two separate people….but when you're together….it's like you couldn't imagine you ever being separate at all. It's a rarity to have that kind of connection so early on. I believe you two will have a very happy life together…or three I should say!" she laughed gesturing to Sybil's middle.

Smiling at her they began talking more of the baby, what they would do when Tom recovered, the house and all manner of things until Sybil felt a weight being lifted. She had been thinking in terms of if Tom woke, but Doctor Smith had forced her plan and envision when Tom woke, not speaking of the possibility that he might not. Sybil made her way back to the room, resolved to not succumb to the depressing surroundings and scary sounds of the monitor beeping away. Tom was going to wake and they were going to be together, all three of them.

Entering the room Sybil corrected herself, four of them, she supposed. Thomas lay face down with his head resting on the bed beside Tom's still hand, sleeping soundly, if very uncomfortably. Sybil laughed quietly at the scene, like two brothers, one waiting patiently for other to get better and be able to play again.

The next few days passed much quicker, not as dark and miserable as they had been at the beginning, they played cards, took turns going home to shower and change and brought the other sustenance in the form of foreign cuisine. Each trying to gross the other out with strange combinations of tacos and chow Mein together or chips and lasagna. Sybil thought she was surely winning, having passed the stage where she would become sick at the drop of a hat in her pregnancy, she now had a stomach of steel and craved everything. Fish fingers in her chocolate shake seemed to be the final straw for Thomas and he returned to a more standard English diet.

On the fifth day of their vigil Tom woke. Sybil was reading Edith's latest novel, sent over via Mary the day before when her eldest sister came to visit for a while before heading up to London with Matthew for a weekend of theater and dancing and small talk with boring older lawyers. "The life of a socialite, and a solicitor's gal, hard work all the time, darling." Mary had said, exiting the room with her natural arrogant flourish that made Sybil giggle.

She had just gotten to the part where the heroine was rescued from near burning as a mistaken witch by the unlikely hunky hero, (her forced husband who she was growing to love, all very complicated and thrilling) when she heard a groan and a stirring of sheets from the bed.

"Sy…bil," he whispered, his voice scratchy and quiet. She abandoned her book to the chair as she sprang up, hands floating unsure over his body, not quite sure whether to call in the nurse or throw herself across his body.

"Tom, oh god, Tom." She settled on the latter, needing to feel his flesh, warm and alert under her hands again. He seemed stiff and unable to really envelop her the way he normally did but she felt his hands raise, petting her gently on the top of her head, resting across his chest as she sobbed from relief.

He made a humming sound in the back of his throat and she realized he must be quite raw from not eating or drinking anything for almost a week, an IV keeping him nourished. She pulled back, kissing him on the forehead as his eyes closed, sighing at the feel of her lips on his skin. Sybil grabbed her cup of water, tilting it slowly towards Tom's mouth as he sipped at the cool liquid. He coughed and sputtered but gulped down almost the entire glass before Sybil pulled it back.

"Easy Tiger." She said, brushing his hair back from his face, the light brown strands flecked with pale gold falling across his brow, in need of a haircut. The effort it took to quench his thirst seemed to be too much for his body to handle, after not moving for days. He laid his head back against the pillows, eyes closed in exhaustion as he hummed again, reaching his hand around the bed to find her hand, grasping it strongly she was assured he was going to be ok.

"How long have I been out?" he asked, gazing up at her wiping the moisture from her eyes.

She hesitated, she should call a nurse in surely, but she was loathe to leave him now that he was back.

"Five days." She said. He gasped, unable to fathom being asleep for so long.

"Fuck. Really? I must have scared you mo chroí. Tell me you haven't been here this whole time?" he was running his thumb over her palm and she had a hard time concentrating on his stern facial expression, too absorbed with the reality that he was touching her again.

"Where else would I be?" she asked him, smiling as she saw his mouth turn up into the shy smile reserved just for her.

"I guess I can't argue with that. How's my báibín?" he raised his hand, pressing it lightly to her stomach where the small bulge was barely visible. His hand felt warm and comforting and her stomach fluttered in response to him, or her reaction to him, she couldn't tell.

"Blooming, as ever. I don't know if you can feel it yet….there…did you feel it?" she asked, looking up to find his eyes scrunched in concentration.

"I didn't feel anything." he looked so affronted that she leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"It's alright love, it's probably too early anyways. I can only feel it inside, I haven't been able to test it out yet." She said, rubbing her stomach comfortingly.

"How long has it been doing that?" he asked, looking like Christmas had come early and he had missed out.

"Since that night." They were quiet for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts of that night.

"Tom, what happened?" She asked quietly, not wanting to push him too soon, but needing to know.

"I was on my way home when someone hit me from behind. All of a sudden there were three men, all hooded and masked, beating the shit of me. They didn't ask for money or try and take anything, just content to pummel me till I passed out. When I came to, there was a fourth man. He called the others off when he was pleased with their work, didn't say a word, just turned and left me bleeding in the alley." He closed his eyes, remembering.

"In your text, you said Larry…" Sybil said. Trying to prompt him.

"That bastard. Didn't get his hands dirty, had his goons do it for him." Tom was seething, anger radiating off of him in waves. A voice coming in from the hallway broke his tense posture as Thomas strolled into the room.

"And covered his tracks well it seems." Thomas bent to give Sybil a greeting kiss on the top of her head as was his custom when he brought food. Today's meal smelled like chicken and mushrooms with something sweet, and chocolaty.

Grabbing Thomas's offered hand with his other hand, bandaged in white gauze, the two had a look between them that conveyed everything that didn't need saying. Thomas joy at Tom's recovery and Tom's gratitude at knowing Sybil was looked after by his best mate.

"What do you mean?" Sybil asked, not aware of any information about Larry and his involvement, Thomas and Jon had been seeing to that while Sybil's main focus was Tom.

"We talked to the police just after the attack and implicated Larry by Tom's text. We didn't know what his involvement was but knew somehow he was involved. He had an alibi for the night, at some dinner party in London with several witnesses to confirm. That doesn't mean he couldn't have paid them off but…"

"…the police aren't inclined to push any further due to his position and money, or rather his father's money. Bastard." Tom finished Thomas's sentence.

"But…Tom, you said he was there right? Can't we just tell the police? Surely the victim of such a crime can name his attacker?" Sybil was grasping at straws, knowing how futile such an effort would be.

"But I can't be sure, love. I didn't see his face, I just…know it was him. Does that make any sense?" Tom was growing weary with the retelling of his ordeal and the helplessness he felt at fighting against the might and will of Larry Grey and all his wealth and influence. He wouldn't get justice for this most recent attack and he knew there was nothing he could do. The feeling creeped through Sybil as well, frustrated at the reality of the situation.

Sighing in resignation Sybil grasped his hand again, feeling his presence anchor her. At least she hadn't lost him. This time. But what if Larry never left them alone? Free to torment them as he pleased with no fear of consequences, sure in his belief that he would simply pay off enough people to get his way. Sybil was more sure than ever that she was going to do everything in her power to make sure Larry paid for his sins against her and now against Tom.

Watching Tom sleep, twitching and moving about instead of the stillness of the past week Sybil felt at ease. The doctors had poked and prodded him, test were done and he was deemed on the road to full recovery. They would be able to go home in a few days if he kept food down and the stiches were removed from his head. He had a few broken fingers, bandaged and needing more long-term care and x-rays as time progressed but he had gotten off rather lucky, with no lasting damage. His face and torso looked better than it had, the blue and red bruising reduced to a yellow -brown twinge coating most of his ribcage, stomach and chest. But he was whole. And he was hers. She just had to ensure he stayed that way.

Báibín-baby

mo chroí-my heart