a/n:I have updated all of the previous chapters. I noticedirregularities in the story and some terrible spelling errors. I think they are 10x better now so if you want to re-read them, feel free to do so. I don't own any characters of downton abbey, not about downton abbey at all. This story is just pure fun. I'm trying to keep the events of the show entwined with the story the best I can but there will be some difference with timeline and scenes to fit the story and plot. Please also note that English is not my first language so even after proofreading there is bound to be mistakes, especially when it comes to sentence structure. I hope you enjoy this regardless, and there will be a sequel to this story (if not even a third part) later on.

Downton Abbey
October 1916

"My dear boy, we are so glad you came to see us, and to share the exciting news!" Robert Crawley shook Matthew's hand a bit too vigorously, no doubt he had hoped that Matthew would still come around about Mary. Matthew would not, he could not, for there was only one tall dark-haired person with a gaze that could freeze hell over that could hold Matthew's heart; and it was not her — it was not even 'a her'.

Matthew gave Robert a nod "I shall see Major Clarkson before I go, to see if there is anything I can do for him and the injured Officers." Matthew said his goodbye and hopped into the car that waited for him. There was one specific reason he wished to see Major Clarkson, and though to offer aid was truly one of them, Thomas Barrow was the main reason. He knew, from Thomas' letters, he was well — but not in fit condition for active duty once more. Thomas' had expressed his worries of where to go, what to do, now that he was no footman of Downton and not in the trenches of France with Matthew.

Matthew had promised him to convince Major Clarkson to allow Thomas to come and serve as a medic in the hospital, a promise Matthew had no intentions of breaking — no matter the cost. The driver stopped outside of the hospital that used to be rather quiet, as quiet as hospitals go, but now there were wounded officers being carried in and out. If it had not been for Thomas he would not be standing here, he would be nothing but a body sent in a furnace whose ashes was to be placed six feet under, so for his saviour he would do anything.

With rapid steps he entered the hospital where he saw the youngest Crawley sister working diligently with the new arrivals; cleaning wounds and things Cora would be shocked to see; but Sybil didn't seem fazed by the gruesomeness that surrounded her — she was strangely peaceful looking, like she had found her calling.

"Matthew!" She said as she spotted her cousin, walking over to greet him with a kiss to the cheek. "Forgive me for not coming to see you at Downton, I have had my hands full"

"Not to worry Cousin Sybil, I am here to see Major Clarkson" Matthew said with a smile.

"He is in his office, finding a small moment of peace and quiet, which is rare in these times" Sybil motioned with her head to the closed door at the end of the wing before returning to her duties without a second thought; wrapping a young officer's mustard gas-damaged eyes up so tenderly.

Matthew's steps found their way to the office and he knocked on the door "Major Clarkson, Captain Crawley to hope to speak to you." Major Clarkson's voice beckoned him in. "Captain Crawley" His voice sounded exhausted, which was not surprising to Matthew at all.

"You seem rather overworked, Major" Matthew stated.

"Too many wounded, too few hands to tend to them" He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes "I am glad to see you alive and well."

"Alive and well, with the means to solve the issue of too few hands" Matthew sat down in the chair before Major Clarkson.

"What do you mean, Captain?" The Major said and leaned his elbow against the armrest of his chair.

"Thomas Barrow, Major Clarkson" Matthew said and Major Clarkson looked rather confused.

"I do not wish to sound rude, Captain, not by any means, but can you speak clearly what you mean?" He said with some frustration.

"I apologise, Major, what I mean is that Thomas Barrow is free to fulfill his service to King and Crown, even if he cannot be on the frontlines anymore." Matthew explained.

"Goodness me, I thought he was still out there in the trenches, but if he is wounded how can he aid me?" Major Clarkson studied Matthew's face, but it was hard to read the face of a solicitor.

"He is healed, but not fit for duty out in the field, he has medic training and would be no burden but a great aid in the hospital." Matthew urged on even if Major Clarkson seemed hesitant.

"He does not have the greatest of reputation, Captain Crawley." The Major said.

"Thomas Barrow was wounded as a soldier in the field trying to save men from grim fates and war tends to change men, does it not?" Matthew kept his composure as he spoke, if he needed to tell the full truth — beg this favour of the Major he surely would. But there was no need for it, the Major backpedalled.

"Very well, I shall write to the hospital where he is kept and ask for him to come here" Major Clarkson nodded and Matthew rose to his feet, holding out a hand to shake the Major's as they said their goodbyes.

Matthew walked out with such a smile on his face which caused a nurse to raise her eyebrow "How can anyone walk around with a smile like that in a place like this?" She said to the other nurse but Sybil threw them a glare and told them to hush.

Matthew looked around, removing his smile from his lips out of respect. He saluted the soldiers in their beds, thanking them for their sacrifice before he left the hospital and hopped into the car to be driven back to base before returning to the front. While there he was surely going to write a letter, a letter that would make Thomas Barrow's heart happy. He only wished he could be here to see him, but it would be longer still — longer than Matthew could imagine before his eyes would even lay upon his heart's yearning; his secret and sinful love, it was harder to tell God to go to hell when Thomas Barrow's cheeky words was no there to encourage him.

Thomas could not believe it, Matthew had done it. The heart of the Corporal grew larger, if only for the moment, due to his lover's actions. He was returning to somewhere he had laid down roots. He would not aimlessly wander. He was to serve the remainder of his duty with Major Clarkson. Thomas read the letter once more before folding it and placing it with the rest of the letters sent from Matthew. The medic of the hospital he was in must have gotten a letter with the same delivery as Thomas, for he came walking to the Corporal's bed.

"Corporal Barrow, Major Clarkson is requesting you personally to aid his hospital in Downton village" The Major said tiresomely. "Something about you working at Downton Abbey and other nonsense I really did not need to hear, pack your bags, you are dismissed."

Thomas nodded and then when the doctor had left he smirked. Of course perks came with having Matthew Crawley in love with you; and he could not deny that it felt good to step on some toes to get ahead again. To get back to Downton.

Downton Village
January 1917

"Can you manage here tonight on your own, Thomas?" Sybil said as she made the bed next to Lieutenant Courtenay "Mother and father doesn't seem to understand the importance of my work" She threw Branson a look as he seemed rather forlorn.

"I was just sent here to get you Lady Sybil" He said apologetically.

"I am going up there for dinner myself, it's important to take care of yourself too Sybil, don't you agree Barrow?" Isobel Crowley turned to the Corporal with a smile.

Thomas ran his tongue over his teeth and nodded with a smile. If only this woman knew that Thomas could still remember the taste of her son upon his lips her smile would be wiped from her face. He walked around with a secret that would shock everyone, no that he would ever tell — that would mean prison for both him and Matthew. While Matthew would be fine afterwards Thomas would lose his job, he would lose everything and that included Matthew. So he kept his mouth shut, but he still knew something they didn't and the thought alone made him feel superior.

"Don'worry Lady Sybil, if anything too severe happens I will call on Major Clarkson" Thomas gave Sybil a small bow, as he often did out of habit from when he had first served her as a hallboy then footman. "And don't chew the messenger…." Thomas looked at Branson and said under his breath"unless that is what you wish."

Tom Branson squinted his eyes at Thomas, unsure if he had heard correctly, and he clearly had been the only one who had heard it. Regardless, Thomas had changed Sybil's mind.

"You're no longer a footman, Thomas, there is no need for such formalities here" She said with a smile and filled one last cup of water before removing her apron.

"Don't let Mr Carson hear you say that." Thomas said, before realising that of course Carson had no longer any rights to tell him what to do. "Sybil, Branson, Mrs Crawley" He said goodbye to the three with a nod before turning to the patients but then he was reminded. "Lad—-Sybil" He said and the daughter of the Earl stopped in her steps out of the room.

"Yes, Thomas?" She said with that kind smile she had always worn. If he was bent differently she would surely be a girl Thomas would pursue, but he was not and somewhere in the French trenches laid what his heart truly yearned for.

"I wished to pop by a shop in the village tomorrow, while they are open, would you mind covering for me then?" He asked and Sybil nodded before disappearing to follow Mrs Crawley and Branson outside to the car that awaited them.

Night fell and Thomas sat in a chair by the window, glancing out and thinking about how a war could have brought him the best years of his life. Even if Matthew was away in the trenches Thomas knew he was loved by someone, cared by someone — he just hoped that he would return, and return alive.

"Corporal?" A voice said followed by a cough and Thomas drew his thoughts away from Matthew and back to the hospital wing. "Corporal Barrow, could I trouble you for water?"

"Most certainly Lieutenant Courtenay" Thomas stood and walked to fetch the jug to fulfill the request. The Lieutenant was certainly younger looking than him, but he wondered if it was just the bandages that covered his eyes. Thomas saw the scars poking out from underneath it. What a terrible thing mustard gas was, and how lucky Thomas felt that he had never encountered it up close. "Anything else Lieutenant Courtenay?"

"You are a Manchester man, Corporal Barrow?" Courtenay asked and pushed himself up further on the bed. "Not noble or upper class, are you?"

"A working-class lad since birth, Lieutenant" Thomas said and then the wounded man sat on the edge of the bed and held out a letter for the army medic.

"I was at Oxford when the war broke out, but all I ever wanted was to farm." The Lieutenant said "Hunt….fish...shoot"

"You might be able to do those things again Lieutenant, you never know" Thomas tried to cheer the wounded soldier up, mostly for he didn't know what else to say.

"It does not help being lied to, you know" Lieutenant Courtenay said somberly "I know what mustard gas can do." He sat up on the bed and held his hand out for the cup of water. "I am no Lieutenant anymore, Corporal Barrow, please call me Edward, just Edward." The man said from the bed.

"Well, if being wounded in the war strips you from your rank, then I am no longer a Corporal, but Thomas, just Thomas" Thomas said in return which caused a chuckle to escape Edward's lips.

"Thank you Thomas" The man said and drank the entire cup of water down before laying back down to turn to his side for some rest.

Thomas walked over to a chair by the window and looked outside, staring out over the fields where the sun was setting. His thoughts were brought back to Matthew, out there by the front, and now joined by William — he had heard it first from Isobel Crawley as she spoke to Sybil and later it was confirmed in a letter sent by Matthew himself, his latest letter. Thomas reached inside of his uniform jacket and from the inside pocket he took out just that letter; reading it to himself for the fifth time since its arrival a week ago.

"My Darling,

The trenches are even more horrid without you. Though battle is occurring more and more frequently than it did when your company was here with me. Yet the smell I used to loathe brings me comfort, as it was the smell we endured together. I am glad you have found purpose with Major Clarkson and found a cross-class friendship with Sybil in the work you two share. Did I not tell you, in December of 1914, that war breaks down classes? How frightful it must be, to the sharp-tongued footman to know I was right.

Thomas could almost feel the upper-class accent and smugness in Matthew's words, but in a way that caused Thomas to smile. Of course Matthew was right, on two accounts, but in his reply Thomas would never admit so.

My sweetheart, I now feel myself longing for my leave with the hopes of catching but a glimpse of your grey eyes and raven hair. I feel sick with love and yearning for you but I take comfort in knowing you are safe. As soon as it's known to me when my next leave is approved I shall come with haste to the hospital with the excuse to see mother and, though I wish to see her as well, I cannot describe the joy my heart sings to know my eyes will behold you again.

All is fair in love,

M"

Thomas had not seen Matthew since he was pulled from no man's land and into the trenches; screaming from the pain in his limbs. It was nearly a year ago and even though it surely was a suffering to Thomas, not knowing each day if Matthew was alive or not, he felt like the lucky one — for once in his life Thomas Barrow was lucky with a sweetheart longing for him too.

Morning sun sprawled out over Thomas where he sat sleeping in the chair. In the morning Sybil came through the doors. Her hand was gentle upon the sleeping Corporal's shoulder. Though the touch was soft, Thomas still jumped in his chair. He looked rather taken aback as if awoken from a bad dream, which he had — war doesn't leave a man without reliving the horrors. Sybil had seen that fear-struck face upon many soldiers that passed through the hospital, the fear-struck faces of those seeing the nightmares from the front in their minds again.

"It is alright Thomas, you can take a break now I'll see to the soldiers" Sybil's soft voice spoke to Thomas and she smiled before undertaking her duties of serving the wounded their breakfast.

Thomas rubbed the sleep from his eyes before rising to his feet. His dream had not been vivid, he could not remember any images, but the sound of battle still echoed in his mind — it was not as bad as most but it still came and went for Thomas. As he began leaving the hospital wing, Isobel Crawley walked in and they passed each other in the doorway.

"Thank you for tending to the soldiers last night Barrow, we ought to invite you to dine with us at Downton Abbey one day, as a thanks for your services" She said with that typical proud Mrs Crawley expression of her brigade-like way of class-breaking.

"Thank you Mrs Crawley" Thomas said and for a moment he imagined the smug face of Mr Carson being wiped away as he was forced to serve Thomas from a silver platter. "But I don't think his Lordship would wish to dine by a mere Corporal."

"Well, we will see about that" She said with a firm nod and Thomas offered Mrs Crawley a little bow and excused himself.

"Oh, Barrow, Mrs Flinch from the bookstore wished to relay a message to you, that the book you requested has arrived" Mrs Crawley called out after the Corporal who gave her a smile and 'thank you' in return.

The leaves had almost completely left the trees and the wind was harsh to Thomas' cheek. In his hand he held a brown parcel and envelope. There was some respect given to him by the people he passed. They acknowledge him with a nod because of the uniform he wore; even from those who knew from his footman days of Downton Abbey.

"Looking smart, don't you Thomas Barrow?" O'Brien said and the Corporal stopped in his step. "Too good to come and see us in the servants' all now?"

"No O'Brien, not too good but too busy" He gave his old friend a nod as they had not shared words in person since he had left for the war. There had only been letters, nothing more, and nothing since he had returned to the village.

"Hospital work keeps you busy? Working with Lady Sybil and Mrs Crawley" O'Brien glanced down at the glove that covered Thomas' hand. "How bad is it?"

Thomas tossed the cigarette from his lips and walked up to O'Brien. With a cheeky grin he slowly removed the glove and revealed his tarnished hand.

"Heavens, that's a nasty injury" She said in shock.

"And yet I am one of the lucky ones" Thomas said and put the glove back on "How are things at Downton?"

"Mrs Crawley is pestering her Ladyship to open the home to officers in need for rehabilitation and rest." O'Brien said with annoyance.

"Mrs Crawley likes sticking her nose where it does not belong" Thomas said, wondering what Matthew would think of him speaking that way of his mother.

O'Brien nodded "Come see us at Downton, Thomas, if only to rub it in Mr Carson's face that you do not work there no more, that you got out."

"When time allows, O'Brien, I shall make my presence at Downton" Thomas said and bid her good-day before returning to the hospital.

"What are you doing, Thomas?" Edward Courtenay asked his friend who sat on the bed that was still empty next to him.

"Something secret" Thomas answered back as he carefully opened the lower part of the book's inner lining.

"Is that why you are sitting next to a blind man, so no observations can be made of your business?" Edward said with a small grin.

"You are correct, Edward, that is the only reason I am keeping you company." Thomas said and pushed something inside of the lining cover of the book and then sealed it up with glue before grabbing a pencil and paper to start his letter.

"Who are you writing to, a sweetheart?" Edward continued his questions when he heard pen against paper. "You have an obligation to tell me, for I will never find a sweetheart again myself, not with being blind, so you must tell me who she is so I can live through you."

Thomas furrowed his naturally sculpted eyebrows before realising that Edward did not know how different he truly was. No one at Downton had ever taken an interest in any social life he might have had — not that there had been much of any, other than the time Daisy had found herself sweet on him before being sweet on William; a much better match in Thomas' opinion.

"Yes, I am writing to a sweetheart" Thomas answered Edward while continuing to write his letter to Matthew.

"What is her name?" Edward asked with a smile. "Where did you meet?"

Thomas fell silent for a second, the only names he could think of were the women of Downton. He did not want anyone to think he was courting one of them — there had to be a name similar to Matthew's but in the disguise of femininity — something that had never been Thomas' strong point, femininity.

"Matt...Mattea" He conjured in the nick of time "we met in France."

"You met her during the war?"

"Yes," Thomas nodded to himself "but I had seen her before the war broke out."

"Will the chapel ring for wedding bells?" Edward said, seemingly happy to partake in Thomas' life and settling into a daydream of his own.

"If only they could, Edward." Thomas said and nothing more after that. He finished the letter and sealed it in an envelope, putting it inside the book, and then wrapping it up in the same paper it had come in. Edward had said nothing more either and the wing had become eerily quiet. Though he heard someone walk up behind him and Sybil's face came to view as she took the wilted flowers from Edward's side table.

"A sweetheart, you say?" Sybil said with a smile and lingering eyes upon Thomas "Her name is Mattea?" She said and walked towards the bin in the hallway outside of the wing. Thomas stood up, straightened his uniform, and followed her — feeling vile words of defensiveness gathering at the tip of his tongue.

"It must be nice, to be able to speak openly to those who don't know the truth" Sybil said and her eyes turned kind which caused all the sharp words to vanish from Thomas' mind.

"What do you mean?" Thomas shook his head "I don't know what this truth is that you speak of."

"We all know, all of Downton Abbey, or most suspect it but choose to ignore it — out of sight, out of mind" Sybil patted Thomas' shoulder as she threw the flowers away in the bin. "You read Oscar Wilde and the only books you have borrowed from my father are the ones of Louis XIV with the hopes to read about Philippe I, Duke of Orléans."

"You can read Oscar Wilde without following his example." Thomas tried to deny it still but the smile on Sybil's face said it all — she knew.

"Yes Thomas, you can." She offered a last smile before turning in for the night and advised Thomas to do the same. Which he did, eventually, before leaving the package upon the pile to be shipped out for those on the frontlines.