One More Summer, Then No More Swan

Carson made the announcement at breakfast, the second day after the ransacking of the house. He stood at the front of the table, addressing the exhausted and harried staff with the scowl that had become a permanent fixture on his face. Thomas was annoyed at the prospect of his breakfast being delayed.

"As you are no doubt aware," Carson began, his gaze sweeping over the staff, "Lord Grantham is very concerned about the political stability of Odin in the near future, and so he has arranged for the family to return home prior to the expected end of the season. Lord Grantham is aware that this change is in violation of the spirit in which the majority of you were hired, as you were all expecting to work the full season." There were some nods of assent around the table. Thomas had been thinking about that a great deal, ever since he had learned that the family was leaving, but he had not had the space to take a moment for himself to consider his possibilities, let alone act on them.

"As a matter of great generosity," Carson continued, "Lord Grantham has decided that, for just this one time, any of the Odin seasonal staff who wish it will be given passage with the family out of the capital."

There were a few surprised sounds from the table, but Thomas couldn't tell if they were sounds of relief.

"What about people who don't want to leave, Herr Carson?" Daisy asked. She was standing in the entrance to the kitchen, wiping her hands vainly on her apron.

"Any who remain on Odin will be given a month's wages and a letter of reference," Carson said.

"And those who go? Will there be work in the family's house?" William asked.

"Not for everyone," Carson said. "But there is work elsewhere, and Lord Grantham will ensure that you find it."

"Why's he doing this?" Daisy asked. "I thought he'd not care, since one of us brought the police here, and all."

Carson turned the full force of his withering glare on her. "Lord Grantham is a generous man."

At the very least, he was a man who didn't like to feel he was sending his staff to the slaughter, Thomas thought. He clenched his gloved hand beneath the table. When he had received his summons to the fleet, Lord Grantham would have written him an exemption letter without a second thought. It was only Thomas who hadn't wanted to take it.

He looked around at the rest of the staff, all mulling over this possibility: leave behind the metropolis that was the only place they had ever known, their families, their lives, go into voluntary exile, all just for the chance to avoid whatever terror was coming.

Thomas's thoughts were sluggish- too many ideas were trying to coexist at once, and they jammed themselves up together and refused to slip free into a conclusion.

"You have a few days to decide," Carson finally said, after all the mumbles had subsided. "His Lordship has chartered a ship, but it won't be in port until next week. I advise any of you who are going to settle your affairs."

And, with that, he headed out. Thomas bent his head down to eat his breakfast, ignoring everybody else.

Though there were a few staff who had initially gone with the family to take care of their immediate needs during their stay in the city at Lady Rosamund's house, they reappeared later that day to do some packing. This included Tom, who stayed well out of everyone's way, though he nodded at Thomas when they passed each other in the hallway; and O'brien, who packed up the remainder of Lady Grantham's personal belongings as swiftly as she could, and then focused on her own room. Bates, strangely, was nowhere to be seen, though Thomas couldn't say he minded in the least.

The door between the women's and men's sides of the servants hallway in the attic was propped open, to allow people to carry suitcases and things up and down the stairway more easily. This meant that it was easy for Thomas to lean on O'brien's door as she folded her few outfits into the carpetbag she used every year to pack her whole life up and move between Odin and the Grantham family's ancestral home.

"Should I even ask if you're going to do the sensible thing and get off Odin with the rest of us?" O'brien asked as Thomas darkened her doorstep. After just a glance at him, she turned her attention back to folding the dresses hanging in her closet, laying them out on her thin bed one by one and tucking them up to go.

"What's it to you?" Thomas asked.

"It doesn't matter to me one bit," O'brien said. "But you've never been known to make a smart choice when a foolish one would do."

"I haven't made up my mind," Thomas said. In his pocket, his thumb stretched and worried at his leather glove. "I paid a lot to get to Odin in the first place. Seems like a shame to leave so soon."

"There's not going to be anything good to keep you here," she cautioned. "One month's wages isn't going to get you far, not when you don't have a place to live."

"I like Odin," Thomas said. "And maybe I do have something to keep me here."

O'brien did not take the bait. "Ruin your life, then. I can't be bothered to stop you."

"Where's Bates?" Thomas asked. "I figured he'd come back with you to pack Lord Grantham's things."

O'brien jerked her head at the door, and Thomas craned his neck to look down both ends of the hallway, making sure they were alone, then nodded at her. "Lord Grantham is staying on Odin," she said. "That's privileged information, though. The girls don't know it."

Thomas raised his eyebrows. "What for?"

"He's going to get himself killed in some war, since he regrets missing his chance when he was fighting against the rebels," O'brien said. "But what do I know about that!" She finished folding her dress and stuffed it inside her bag.

"You don't seem thrilled."

"If Her Ladyship is unhappy, it makes my job harder." She turned to grab the next dress from the closet. "You should come back. Bates will be staying with His Lordship, so you wouldn't have any problems with him."

"And I'd have a job in the house? That didn't seem like a guarantee."

"You're home staff, aren't you?" she asked.

"I'd like to be assured of that before I sign my life away on a ticket back there."

"Do what you like," O'brien said. "I don't care."

What Thomas really wanted was to see the Duke of Crowsburg. After the first time they met in the hotel, the duke had given him his phone number so that he could let Thomas know if he was going to be in the capital, and so Thomas was able to text him, asking if they could meet. It took a few hours for the duke to respond. Thomas tried not to be impatient and nervous about the delay- the duke was a busy man- but it wore him down regardless. When the response came, saying that the duke would be in his same hotel room tomorrow night, and that Thomas was welcome to come at some late hour, the relief could have knocked him off his feet.

He floated, distracted, through the rest of the day and the next. When Carson asked if he had given any thought to leaving with the family, Thomas just mumbled that he had been thinking about it and he would get an answer to Carson as soon as he had made up his mind. Carson glared at him but let him go.

With the family out of the house, it was almost too easy to get dressed and slip out into the cold night. It was a long, dreary walk to town and the train, but at least it wasn't raining.

He was jarred by how lively the capital city was. Music was spilling out of open restaurant doors, and people dressed to the nines were wandering arm in arm down the brightly lit streets. The past few days had left Thomas feeling like the normal world had crumbled and vanished along with the Grantham family's sense of safety, but here was everyone else, dancing and laughing and pretending that the world wasn't going to end.

Thomas couldn't put a finger on why he felt this disconnect so strongly. Was he truly that alarmed at the prospect of civil war coming to Odin? His hands were deep in his coat pockets, curled into fists. It wasn't as though he would be called back up to fight in it, and all the nobles would want to keep the battle in space, he was sure. After all, what good was fighting over the throne if the capital ended up a smoking wreck?

Picturing the lively streets of the city in flames was doing nothing to improve his mood.

No, he didn't think that there would be too much danger here. Lord Grantham was being paranoid. Thomas's real trouble was that he did not want to go back to the same dreary life he had worked so hard to get away from, especially if he had no guarantee of employment. Being on Odin, no matter what came, would be better than that.

But he was clinging to a lifeline, the idea of getting away from it all with Philip.

He turned the corner, and the hotel came into view: columns, pillars, steps in white marble, glowing faintly in the chill air beneath the streetlights. Thomas entered the lobby and found someone to follow up the elevator. Pretending like he belonged was easy enough- he was sure he looked just as distracted as all the suited businessmen walking through the lobby. No one paid him any mind.

The top floor hallway was eerily empty, and Thomas felt like anyone standing around the corner would have been able to hear his breathing in the strange silence. His feet made almost no sound on the plush red-carpeted floor. Knocking on Philip's door rang in his ears, though the anechoic hallway swallowed and dampened the sound.

It took a moment for Philip to open the door.

"Thomas," he said, smiling. He didn't pull on Thomas's sleeve urgently as he had the last time Thomas had come, but his voice was still warm, and that assuaged Thomas's nerves plenty. He was still in his day clothes, though just shirtsleeves, no jacket, and his silk necktie had been abandoned on the countertop that cordoned off the kitchen area from the rest of the space.

"Are you glad to see me?" Thomas asked, as soon as the door was shut.

Philip just looked him over for a second, his eyes traveling the length of Thomas's body. Thomas shrugged off his coat to make that easier, resorting to draping it over the back of the couch when he didn't see a coat closet or hook immediately to hand.

"I'm surprised you were able to get away," Philip said after a moment.

"You should have told me you were staying in the capital."

"I thought you would be busy. I heard the Granthams are getting ready to go back to their country estate."

" They are," Thomas said. "Or, at least Lady Grantham and her daughters are. Lord Grantham fancies himself a soldier."

The expression that flitted across Philip's face was one of unrestrained, rather horrified, surprise- eyes widening and lips parting- but he covered it up as quickly as it had come with a smile. This one didn't reach his eyes. "I wish him luck, then," Philip said. "Things must be serious, if even the older generation are coming out of retirement."

"It's made it easier to get out to the city tonight, anyway," Thomas said. "The family is staying with Lady Painswick while the staff pack the house." He shrugged. "I can stay late, if you like."

Philip's smile curled. "Well, that is an enticing offer." He turned away from Thomas and walked a little ways back into the hotel suite, asking over his shoulder, "Have you eaten?" He gestured at a few pastries on a covered tray: fruit tarts and chocolate dainties.

"Yes, I had dinner," Thomas said.

"Wine?" Philip asked, retrieving a bottle from the small wine fridge tucked under the counter.

"You're trying to spoil me." Thomas slipped around behind Philip and embraced him, his hands on Philip's waist.

"Can I be blamed for that?" Philip chuckled at the feeling of Thomas's fingers traipsing across his stomach, but continued to pull down glasses from the shelf and uncork the wine bottle, pouring with a steadiness that even Carson would have envied as Thomas nuzzled his exposed neck.

He managed to turn around holding the two glasses of wine, though Thomas had him pinned against the counter. Thomas reluctantly removed his hand from Philip's waist to take the offered glass.

"To the end of an Odin season," Philip said. "And to living to see another."

"Prosit," Thomas said. The wine sparkled in the glasses as he and Philip drank, and it coated his mouth, rich and bitter. He finished his glass quickly, mostly so that he could watch Philip drink his. Philip met his eyes, but Thomas couldn't read his expression, half hidden by the wine glass as it was.

When Philip finished his drink, Thomas stopped him from putting it down or reaching behind himself with the bottle, covering Philip's hand with his own to take the glass from him.

"I am glad you asked to see me," Philip said after Thomas put both of their glasses down on the countertop. He leaned back against it, half-smiling, his eyes in warm shadow as he looked up at Thomas. Thomas brushed his right hand across Philip's cheek, cradling the back of his head.

"Good," Thomas said, and he leaned in to kiss Philip. He was yielding, and leaned back against the countertop as Thomas kissed him, tasting the wine on both their lips, his fingers catching on Philip's silky hair.

"It would have been a shame to not see you before you left with the Granthams," Philip murmured as Thomas kissed towards his jaw. "I will miss you." He pulled Thomas's hand away from his head and held it lightly. Thomas took the opportunity to lift it and kiss Philip's fingers, one by one.

"I don't have to go," Thomas said, in between Philip's knuckles. Philip made a noise that was almost a sigh, and brushed Thomas's hair off his forehead with his free hand.

"I wouldn't recommend staying on Odin, if I were you," Philip said. "I'm certainly not."

"I could come with you to Phezzan."

Philip pressed a silencing finger to Thomas's lips, but Thomas just kissed it, then opened his mouth slightly to let the finger fall on his teeth, dragging his lower lip down.

"As what, Thomas?"

"As your valet."

"I don't need a valet," Philip said. "Besides, you know how I'm fixed- if I can't find an heiress on Phezzan-"

"Don't tell me you wouldn't still want this," Thomas said. He could be convincing, lifting his eyes to meet Philip's. Philip was looking away.

"That's not exactly the question," Philip said. Thomas dropped his hand to kiss him again, though Philip reciprocated less, and when he turned his head, Thomas's lips fluttered against the corner of his mouth, along his cheek. But he didn't push Thomas away: he did still want him.

"Then what is?" Thomas asked. "I could work for you."

"We don't really have the basis of a servant-master relationship. Do we?"

"Neither do Count Lohengramm and his man."

"They're dead men walking," Philip said, which rather spoiled the mood.

"You said- if something happened-"

"Did I, Thomas?" the duke asked. His voice was gentle, and that made it much worse. "I don't make promises that I can't keep."

"When I walked into that party for you, if someone had found out-"

"Nothing's come of that," Philip said. "I told you nothing would. I just can't see it working out."

"You wanted to see me."

"So that I could wish you well, since you're going with the Grantham family."

"But I want to be with you," Thomas said. It was half a whine, the layers of happiness and hope that had buoyed him these past few days crumbling apart one by one. Already, he was cursing himself for not being smarter, for being too trusting, for not hardening his heart when he had the chance. But even now, Philip in front of him made him desperate, made him try to hold on and plead.

It took a moment for Philip to respond, long enough that hope sang in Thomas's chest that he had hit on the right combination of words. The hope was crushed as soon as the duke opened his mouth. "We're just too different, you and I."

"It doesn't seem like it to me." He took a breath. "I though you felt the same."

"It was never going to last- I'm only ever here for the season anyway." He looked away. "And one swallow doesn't make a summer."

Thomas pulled himself away from the duke. The feeling in his chest had collapsed into anger, white hot. "You shouldn't think yourself too different from me," Thomas said, stepping back and straightening his shirt. "After all- the same things can happen to us both."

"Are you threatening me?" the duke asked. He sounded almost amused. "Come now, Thomas."

"I have evidence."

"Maggie's photograph?" the duke asked. He didn't sound surprised, merely disappointed. Thomas should have expected he'd know about that, but it still stung. "You'd risk your own ruin over this? A few weeks of madness in an Odin season?"

"I would if I had to."

"No one would believe a greedy footman over the words of a duke." He turned away from Thomas and poured two more glasses of wine. "My mother's always telling me to never let myself be photographed," he said. "I suppose I should try to learn that lesson." He turned back around and held out one of the glasses of wine to Thomas. "And besides, I'm going to Phezzan. By the time I get back-"

Thomas just stared at the glass of wine held out to him. Philip took a sip of his own, held in his other hand. It glittered in the dim light, ruby red. Without thinking much of anything, Thomas reached for it.

"You'll stay the night, wish me well, and we can part as friends? Won't that be better, Thomas?"

With a single flick of his wrist, Thomas threw his wine directly onto the duke's face. It dripped down his nose, beaded on his lips, parted in shock, barely missed his eyes that he had closed just in time. It stained his shirt blood red. He just stood there in shock for a second, opening his mouth and taking a deep breath of surprise.

Thomas suddenly processed exactly what he had just done. He dropped his now empty glass onto the counter, and, with as much dignity as he could muster, straightened his shirt, grabbed his jacket, and stomped out of the duke's hotel room.

He made it about two blocks before the shock, cold, and sadness overcame him. Before his facade crumpled completely, he ducked into an alley and he leaned on a brick wall in between some trash cans, putting his face into his elbow, and breaking out into great, sniffling sobs that were witnessed only by the two tomcats hissing and spitting at each other down near the end of the street.

When Thomas finally arrived back at the Grantham residence, he was shocked and horrified to find that the house was not quiet and serene as he had been expecting, but every light was on, and through the windows, he could see people rushing about.

Thomas tried to sneak in through the back door, but when he entered the servants' hall, he was spotted by Daisy, hanging around the kitchen, who shrieked when she saw him like she'd seen a ghost, dropping the rag she had been using to wipe down the already clean counters with.

"Thomas! Everybody's been looking for you!" she yelped, after she had gotten herself under control.

"What?" Thomas asked, confused and lethargic. He was freezing, and though the cold walk home had numbed some of the pain of his encounter with the duke, it had done it mostly by slowing his thoughts down to a sluggish crawl. "Why?"

"Lady Sybil is missing! Everyone thought you were, too."

"Missing from Lady Painswick's house?" Thomas asked. Daisy nodded. Thomas knew exactly what that was about, and the warmth of the kitchen and the urgency on Daisy's face was thawing his thoughts enough that anger bubbled to the surface again. "It's got nothing to do with me," he said, and turned away.

"Well, go tell that to Herr Carson before he tells the police that you're gone, too!"

Thomas trudged up the stairs. He knew, or he thought he knew, why Daisy was in a panic about staff being missing. Tom Branson was sure to be vanished, as well. He bit the side of his tongue as he went to find Carson.

Oh, Tom and Lady Sybil could run away to Phezzan together! How lucky for them!

The jealousy swelled until he saw Carson standing in the entrance hall, looking out the front window, his face red, his hand over his chest like he was in pain.

"Herr Carson," Thomas said. "I heard you were looking for me?"

Thomas was surprised that Carson didn't have a heart attack right then and there. His expression shifted between shock and apoletic anger, and his voice came out as somewhere in a mixture of the two. "Where on Odin have you been?!"

"I had some business in the city," Thomas said. "I didn't think I would be needed after dinner, since the family's gone and all…" He trailed off into mumbles under the force of Carson's glare. The mundanity of being caught taking unexcused time off was at least a problem Thomas knew how to deal with, and he was grateful that everything else going on would probably get him a pass. "I know I should have cleared it with you but I didn't think it would matter…" His voice grew smaller and smaller.

"You're lucky we hadn't reported you missing," Carson said.

"Daisy told me that Lady Sybil is gone?" Thomas asked.

"And Tom Branson with her, unless he, too, is just out for a night on the town," Carson said. "We're making a search of the house just to be sure there's no one else gone."

"Herr Carson-"

"What is it, Thomas?" he growled.

"You might want to call Herr Matthew von Crawley," Thomas said. "If His Lordship hasn't already. He might know where Lady Sybil's gone."

"And why would you think he knows that?" Carson asked, giving Thomas a decidedly deadly glare.

"I've seen them talk," Thomas said. "They're close, is all. Maybe she's just gone to his house to say goodbye."

"Thank you for your input, Thomas. That will be all. Unless you have some other pressing information that you'd like to divulge?"

"No, sir," Thomas said.

It didn't seem like Thomas was going to be listened to. Carson was sufficiently distracted that he did not notice that when Thomas slipped away, he headed back down towards the servants' hall, and then to Carson's office.

Tom wouldn't have appreciated what Thomas was doing, not in the least, but Thomas didn't care. He opened Carson's office, stepped inside, closed the door behind himself, and looked around. There, beneath the phone installed in the office wall, sitting on Carson's desk, was the address book that contained every number for the running of the household: vendors, repairmen, important guests who might need to be issued invitations. Thomas flipped through it, running his finger down the columns, until he came to Matthew von Crawley's name.

He read the number, then dialed it from the office line. It took several rings for Matthew to pick up, and when he did, he sounded annoyed.

"Hello?" Matthew asked.

"Herr Crawley, this is Thomas Barrow, I work in Lord Grantham's-"

"I know who you are, Thomas," Matthew said. His tone changed, less annoyed, more confused. "What is it?"

"You should know that Lady Sybil is missing," Thomas said. "She's gone with another one of the servants to Phezzan, I think. You'll have to tell Lord Grantham that's what's happened, since you have a reason to know about it."

There was a moment of silence from the end of the line. "Thank you, Thomas. I appreciate it." And, with that, Matthew hung up.

In the confusion that followed, rumors circulated among the staff about what had happened: Lady Sybil and Tom had been arrested by the military police; Tom had kidnapped her to use for ransom money; Lady Sybil had simply been trying to go drive to a party, and Tom had accidentally driven them both off a cliff and no one had identified the bodies; both of them had been taken by terrorists; and ever-wilder combinations of these ideas, and more. Carson and Frau Hughes tried to stamp this out as best they could, but the talk continued unabated. Thomas tried to stay out of it. He was still on Carson's bad side for slipping out, though no one had yet pressed him about that.

Despite the chaos, there was one thing that could not change: the family's departure date from Odin. Lord Grantham had booked his ship, and there would be no changing its schedule by more than a few hours- it was simply too expensive. Thomas had avoided making up his mind about leaving until now, but with the departure looming, he had to make up his mind.

He packed his bags, since he figured he would be sent out of the house regardless.

On the day of the departure, when the whole staff was running about with the frantic, last-minute pre-departure panic, Lord Grantham and Matthew Crawley returned to the estate. The rest of the family was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they had already boarded the ship that would be taking them home- Thomas didn't know.

Thomas was loitering in the hall, standing in front of a few boxes of possessions, waiting for a car to come around so that he could load them in, when Lord Grantham and Matthew entered. They didn't spare him a glance.

"This place will feel so empty without the rest of your family in it, won't it?" Matthew said.

"I'm sure it will," Lord Grantham said. "It would have even if Cora and Mary and Edith were staying." He ran his hand over his face, and Thomas could see just how drawn he looked, how much Sybil's going had aged him.

"She'll be safe on Phezzan," Matthew said.

"It's not a matter of safety," Lord Grantham snapped. But then he sighed. "Forgive me."

"I understand," Matthew said. "I wish there was something more I could have done-"

"No, you did what you could."

Matthew looked around the hall, seeing the family's crests hung, the beautiful sweeping lines of the ceiling, taking it all in like he never had before. Perhaps he was just looking for something to look at other than Lord Grantham, who was weary and sad. "It will be strange to live here," he said.

"I want you to know at least this part of the estate, even if I couldn't convince you to leave."

"I appreciate it," Matthew said. "I can't pack up my whole life, but…" He turned on his toes, looking around the whole room. "I do want to understand how to be the right heir for this place."

"I know," Lord Grantham said. "I expect I'll probably rely on you, once things get busy. I won't have as much time to dedicate to the estate as I should" That was a pleasant way of putting things.

Matthew's roving eyes landed on Thomas, standing over by the boxes.

"Oh, Thomas-" Matthew said. Lord Grantham looked at him, confused. Matthew explained, "Thomas was the one who thought to let me know that Lady Sybil was missing." He turned back to Thomas. "Thank you, for that. I really appreciated it. And I'm glad I got to see you before you went."

"Not a problem, sir," Thomas said. "I'm sorry that there wasn't more that I could do for Lady Sybil, or Your Lordship." He nodded at Lord Grantham.

"Yes, thank you, Thomas," Lord Grantham said, though he still seemed a little confused. It didn't matter.

"Are you going home with the family?" Matthew asked.

Thomas spied an opportunity, one that had just landed at his feet. "I was wondering, Your Lordship, sir, if I might stay on as staff here? If you're planning to live here, and Herr Carson is going with Lady Grantham and the rest of the family, won't you need someone to look after things here?"

"I won't be doing much entertaining," Lord Grantham said.

"It's only that I don't really want to leave Odin, and especially if Herr Crawley is going to be here, Herr Carson probably wouldn't want to leave you with no staff at all, aside from Herr Bates, I mean."

"Have you spoken to Carson about this?" Lord Grantham asked.

"No," Thomas said. "I just had the thought."

"Well, tell him to speak to me about it." He glanced at his watch. "Quickly, since he'll need to board the ship in a couple of hours."

"Thank you, Your Lordship," Thomas said.

Author's Note

i realized while writing this chapter that honestly, it would work better as the penultimate chapter rather than the final one. probably in a week or so after everybody who's been following this story has had a chance to read it (so that no one gets confused) i'm going to switch this chapter with the previous reinhard one.

there wasn't a physical object for thomas and the duke to wrestle over, so i settled for doing something else. when i started writing this chapter, i didn't have thomas dumping the wine all over the duke in mind, but when i got to it i was like "oh, i've set this up so perfectly to mirror the moment when they met, I can't NOT include it" haha

philip is, sadly, kinda a dick

but hey, at least thomas gets a promotion to like, substitute butler while carson flies away! that's good for him.

proceed directly to the next chapter / do not pass go / do not collect $200
(or don't) it's the epilogue. but i think it's a fun little snippet that's worth reading :) and i will likely have some further author's notes there talking about the story as a whole so lol. might as well.