a/n: I do not own the characters of Downton Abbey, this is purely for fun. Matthew and Thomas are my favourite paring that not many write about. Some events will be slightly altered, some timelines as well, but I try to keep most events there - even if they are cheekily redone. I am also not a WW1 expert (more of a WW2 studier) so I apologise if some things are a bit out of touch and not 100% historically correct, it's all in good fun. English is not my first language but I do try my hardest with grammar and words, I hope you will excuse any mistakes. Thanks for listening, now enjoy!

Downton Abbey,
April 1919

Thomas had spared a lot of the last part of the story, he had not mentioned their night at all, but just ended it with them falling asleep and speaking of Christmas. It had been long and the clock was ticking behind them. Mrs Hughes smacked her lips and looked at it.

"So, you were the reason Mr Crawley did not grace us with his presence for the holidays?" Mrs Hughes said, trying not to sound as amused as she was.

"He decided on the trenches with me, and not the comfort of leave and Downton Abbey" Thomas said and stood up, straight in his back, and hiding how overwhelmed he had become with his own words.

"Yes, you are correct Thomas, I suppose it is time to say goodnight" Mrs Hughes said and rose to her feet. "It is quite the thrilling story, and a long one as you said"

Thomas pursed his lips together and followed Mrs Hughes to the door "One that has now ended, a story only in my memory"

Mrs Hughes opened the door "Before you go, Thomas, regardless of the content of this tale you are telling me, I am glad to see that someone brought the sweet side out of you"

Thomas gave her a small nod and said his goodnight, to retreat to a bed so empty — so empty he felt himself begging for another war, another trench, another time before April 1919 came upon them all.

Mrs Hughes retired herself, walking through the hallway and towards the stairs she saw Daisy still in the corner. "Daisy, heavens, what are you still doing awake?"

Daisy jumped where she stood, holding a pot with no intent of using it. "I could not sleep, Mrs Hughes, there's been too much sorrow in the house"

Mrs Hughes sighed "First war then the Spanish flu, I hope merrier times will come" She bid Daisy goodnight.

"Mrs Hughes, is Thomas telling stories from the war?" She asked nervously.

"What Thomas and I discuss is our business, Daisy" Mrs Hughes answered and disappeared up the stairs. As long as they thought it was nothing but stories from the war everything would be alright. She had no intent of letting Thomas' secret slip, she might be head housekeeper but she would not spill secrets confined in her — especially by a man who never confides in anyone. Well, she thought, no one but Mr Crawley.

She did pity Thomas, and mourned the fact that he could not openly love. Whatever the law and God said she never thought love could be punished that badly — at least not if they were not indecent before marriage. Then, of course, she realised that Thomas could never marry from being born different. "Oh dear, heavens…" She got herself ready for bed, feeling a twitch of guilt about how she could marry but had never done so while someone who had loved, like Thomas had, could not.

Morning came and Mrs Hughes awoke the maids, the newest, Maud, groaned from the early hour like she had done with every wakeup call since she had arrived. Then she awoke Anna for breakfast. By the table they all sat, even Thomas, though his gaze was focused upon the cigarette in his hand. His eyes seemed hollow from the bags below it, sleep must not have found him at all. The bells rang and everyone began preparing for the awakening of the Crawleys.

"Thomas, can I trust you to set up for breakfast while I tend to his Lordship?" Mr Carson said in the typical stern voice to the first footman.

"Yes Mr Carson" Thomas' monotone voice echoed in the halls and he rose to do as he was asked.

Mr Carson raised his eyebrow and whispered to Mrs Hughes "Why is there no malice in his tone of voice? This is a change…"

"Sometimes not all changes are good, Mr Carson, not all are good" She said and finished her tea before she, too, rose.

Thomas stood by the serving table as Lord Grantham entered, followed by his two daughters. They sat and breakfast was placed before them.

"Anything else, your Lordship?" Thomas spoke in a monotone voice again which even caught the Lordship off guard, he glanced with unease at the footman.

"No Thomas, that will be all for now." Lord Grantham said and Thomas began retreating with the teapot in his hand.

But then it fell heavily to the floor when his eyes saw Matthew walking past the door. The crash caused all the Crawley's to jump, Lord Grantham sprung to his feet, looking from the footman fumbling on the floor to pick up the pieces of the broken pot and Matthew walking over on his cane to help him.

Thomas' eyes met Matthew's and for a moment, a brief moment, he was back in the trenches of yesterday and he swore he could see them in Matthew's eyes too. But the heir stopped as it had been instinct that had told him to help Thomas, so he rose and backed away; his heart unable to take it, his guilt, his sins — everything they had done filled him.

"My dear boy." Lord Grantham said as Thomas walked away with hurried steps but kept his back straight, towards the door with the pieces of the pot in his hand and the drops of tea staining his glove.

"I shall return to mother today, Robert" Was the last thing Thomas heard as he disappeared through the door frame. He did not head towards the servants' hall, he did not head towards their quarters. He headed straight out the front doors — with Mr Carson's wide eyes passing him by the staircase.

He called out for Thomas but he did not heed him. The butler followed the rouge footman outside, past the front doors that should never be passed by a servant. Mr Carson followed him around the house and stopped a few steps behind Thomas. The sight he saw was so undignified that Mr Carson felt a surge of anger.

Thomas tossed the broken teapot against the wall by the servants' entrance. He pulled his hair and shouted in anger. His rage was of pure heartache and pain, his inability to control his own emotions, took over for the first time since the funeral. Thomas kicked the gravel and he punched the wall with such a force that his knuckles could be heard cracking all the way to where Mr Carson stood.

"THOMAS BARROW!" Mr Carson bellowed "Control yourself!" He sternly stepped forwards towards the pitiful sight of Thomas on his knees in the gravel, holding onto his damaged hand. The footman, once again, gave Mr Carson no cheek, no snarky remarks.

"I apologise, Mr Carson" Thomas said instead "It won't happen again, Mr Carson" and he stood up, and left to enter the servants' hall through the door. Leaving the butler bewildered behind him and rather uncomfortable. Mr Carson straightened his back, fixed his tie and then followed the footman into the hall.

There sat Mrs Hughes, examining the hand of Thomas Barrow, seemingly in severe pain with puffed up eyes.

"Oh Thomas, why did you have to snap?" She said and the footman winced when she touched his hand. "And your good hand too, very well, you are the trained army medic here but clearly something is cracked— I shall send Anna to fetch Dr Clarkson."

Mrs Hughes saw Mr Carson stand by the door, red faced and clearly phased by what he had just seen.

"Leave it be" She said in a hissed whisper "Just this once, Mr Carson, leave him be."

Mr Carson opened his mouth to speak but the fall from grace of Thomas Barrow seemed punishment enough for the foot man. Mr Carson gave a nod "Very well, I shall inform his Lordship that our footman's war injury needs tending to, and the maids will aid in dinner for the night."

Mrs Hughes expression softened and took Mr Carson's hand to give it a gentle squeeze in gratitude which caused the butler's face to feel flustered. He didn't know what Mrs Hughes knew about Thomas that caused her to feel a weak spot for the footman but he supposed that this once, he could let it slide for someone who had been injured protecting King and Country.

Mr Carson stepped into the room where the Crawley's were finishing their breakfast. "I beg your pardon my lord"

"What is it Carson?" Robert Crawley turned his head around to look at the butler who had just entered.

"Thomas has been hurt, your Lordship, and with your permission I would ask Anna and the maids to help with dinner tonight" Mr Carson said as he stood tall behind the man he would serve until his dying day.

"Is Thomas alright?" A soft voice spoke, and it was not the voice of Lord Grantham, it was the voice of Matthew Crawley.

"Just the war wound giving him some troubles, sir" Mr Carson answered Matthew who looked down at his untouched eggs.

"I suppose that is alright, we're not having anything grand" Lord Grantham said "But remind him that Mr Bates always performed his duties with an injured leg also caused by a war" His Lordship returned to finish his tea.

Mr Carson bowed his head and caught the eyes of Matthew Crawley glaring at his Lordship. Mr Carson felt offended for Lord Grantham, even though the Lordship paid no notice as he was reading the newspaper. Mr Carson let the excuse be that Mr Crawley had recently lost his fiancee. Yet it seemed awfully undignified to glare at someone like his Lordship in such a manner.

"Foolish boy" Mrs Hughes said as she came to Thomas' room at night with a tray of tea and biscuits. "You are lucky it was nothing more but bruises and a crack to the bone."

"I'm sorry Mrs Hughes" Thomas said and adjusted himself on the bed, trying to look presentable for the head housekeeper.

"You are not sleeping" She stated like a mother doting over her son as she poured tea for them, their nightly routine at this point.

"I am not, Mrs Hughes" Thomas admitted and took the cup with his war-wounded hand.

"You're not helping yourself by not doing so." She said and blew on her tea.

"I know I am not Mrs Hughes, but it cannot be helped" Thomas said and looked down at his cup. "When a heart yearns there is no silencing it and its screams keeps you wide awake"

"We are nearing your injury, aren't we?" Mrs Hughes said "You came back to the village in 1916"

"Yes we are, though I asked Matthew not to speak of the true cause for it" Thomas said "but you will be the third one to know."