A/N:

New Normal

Chapter Eleven

September 17, 2018

She glanced down at the ring again, unused to its weight on her finger. The silver band caught the light whenever she moved, the diamond large and demanding attention. In some ways, it was almost too grand... even for her.

But how was one supposed to turn down an engagement ring without turning down the proposal?

"Still admiring it?" Tom teased, reentering the room with topped off glasses of wine. Mary accepted hers with a smile as Tom said, "It really is a beautiful ring."

Mary didn't voice her real thoughts, in case Tom had played any part in its selection. "I never knew you were such a matchmaker," she told him wryly.

Her relationship with Henry had been given a new breath of life last month when Tom offhandedly suggested they go to a nice restaurant in York. "Just the two of us," he had said, "It'll be fun."

Naturally, she had agreed, not knowing his dastardly scheme... but she figured out quickly when the table reserved for Branson already had someone sitting there. Mary had nearly dropped her purse to the floor at the sight of Henry, already browsing through a menu. "I'll leave you two alone," Tom had told her, smiling. "I've been a part of this long enough."

She had wanted to leave with him, humiliated and wondering why he was putting her through this... but then Henry had spoke and drawn her in. "Please— if for nothing else, than let me have this for the sake of closure."

During the course of the meal, Henry explained everything. He had given up the racing, the thrill of it having been soured by losing Charlie. "I'll just report on it now. Like Tom." He smiled before explaining that he had already lined up a job with a magazine on car racing.

He apologized, for telling her to come to the race. He understood now, he said, how she must have felt. It was at that point their hands had touched. "I can live without it," Henry said, gazing into her eyes. "But I don't know if I can live without you."

Things returned to normal. Mary was finally at ease, no longer on edge when Henry needed to go to a race, for now she knew he was safe in the stands. Mary hadn't really considered how serious Henry was about her until earlier that evening, when they had gone to that same restaurant in York, only for him to pull out the ring.

And now she was in her living room, excited yet feeling somewhat strange, Tom on the couch next to her. "I don't think I'll ever play matchmaker again, to be honest," Tom told her. "For one thing, all the people I care about are all paired off now."

"Except George and Sybbie," pointed out Mary.

"And neither of them are allowed to date until they're thirty."

Mary merely rolled her eyes, knowing he was only joking. Truthfully, the idea of them growing up was a frightful one to her as well. How was it that George was five now? Her little boy was growing up and Mary didn't care for it.

"I'm surprised you're here," remarked Tom, lifting up his glass for a sip. "I would have thought Henry would be better company than me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Mary said instinctually. "You're my best friend."

"Yes, but I'm hardly an adequate substitute for your fiancé," he pointed out. Mary was willing to admit he may have had a point... but her and Henry had spent plenty of time with one another that evening, and as the one responsible for bringing them back together in the first place, Mary figured he ought to be the first to know and receive her thanks. "Do you know when the big day is?"

"Not yet." Mary glanced down at her ostentatious ring yet again. "We've been caught up more in the excitement of it all to really plan it quite yet."

"Well, congratulations anyway, to the future Mrs. Talbot." Tom raised his glass and Mary clinked hers against it, smiling before taking a sip.

October 9, 2018

George brought home a drawing of the four of them together, proudly displaying it next to Sybbie's. This one was somewhat more grounded in reality— everyone had the right shade of hair, for a start, and they were all wearing clothes.

But it still made Mary uncomfortable. For one thing, everyone was labeled the same way as they were on Sybbie's— Me, Sybbie, Mummy, Daddy. In this one, the most fantastical element of the picture was that Mary and Tom were holding hands.

Still, she said nothing, though she pointed it out to Tom later. "I wonder why he drew us like that," she said, pointing at their crayon figures hands.

"Who knows how children come up with these things?" He seemed relatively unbothered, absorbed in taking care of the groceries. "Maybe he just decided to copy Sybbie's."

Mary shrugged. She supposed he was right. Her only worry is what Henry would think upon seeing it. He had taken George out a few times, to little trips at the zoo and even once to a football match he had scored tickets to... But this obviously wasn't a depiction of Henry. The interpretation of all the people in the picture was a more faithful one, and the figure labeled as Daddy clearly had blue eyes— just like Tom's.

She only hoped Henry's jealousy wouldn't flare. It wasn't that he had ever been possessive or anything like that— Only after the whole thing with Charles, Mary felt apprehensive about Henry seeing things between her and Tom that weren't really there. She tried to pay close attention to her actions, doing her best to make it clear everything was platonic, but there were moments here and there where she knew she hadn't succeeded. Mary knew he would be annoyed when she would insist she needed a night at home to relax, asking if Tom would be there (to which the answer was always yes, with a reminder that Tom lived with her and she could hardly avoid him in her own home).

Nobody would question it, Mary thought somewhat bitterly as she reached for a glass to fill with water, if Tom was a woman. Or, rather, if Anna had been the friend to look after Mary in her grief and move in. Everyone would accept it as two friends living together platonically, even though there were plenty of women who enjoyed relationships together that were decidedly not platonic. For whatever reason, Mary had come across far too many people who had a hard time believing a man and woman could be just friends.

Henry hadn't been like that... Henry liked spending time with Tom. He knew how important he was to Mary and respected that. There was no reason to think he might object...

Right?

October 20, 2018

Mary was one of the few guests in attendance who wasn't crying, but even she could admit, she was a little weepy as she watched Thomas and Jimmy exchange rings at the alter. George and Sybbie were standing up there as well, the ring bearer and flower girl respectively. She glanced over to Tom, seated beside her, who was looking more than a little choked up. She couldn't tell if it was because of the heartfelt vows that they had exchanged or because all this was bringing up thoughts of Sybil. She reached over and took his hand, which earned her a smile.

"I'm so happy for you," Mary told Thomas when she danced with him at the reception. He had been waiting a long time to find the right man, and she was grateful Jimmy had finally come to his senses. Though she hadn't always been sure of him, he had proved that he really did care and wanted to make Thomas happy.

Thomas managed a genuine smile— it was sad, to think of a time when that had been rare. Now, they were a much more common sight... "Thanks," he said.

"Where're you going again?" asked Mary, forgetting the honeymoon destination. It was somewhere in Greece...

"Mykonos," Thomas reminded her.

"Well, I hope you have a marvelous time," said Mary, thinking of her own honeymoon with Matthew to the south of France. "And relax— I mean it. I can manage a week without you."

"Are you sure about that?" Thomas arched an eyebrow.

"Positive." With the summer season having come to a close, activity on the estate had slowed down. Sybbie's class was set to go on a field trip this week, but it was nothing Mary couldn't handle on her own.

"Do you mind if I cut in?" A female voice said. Mary and Thomas stopped dancing. It was Phyllis, eyes shining with happy tears. "Joseph and I are just about to leave and I wanted to have one last dance before we went."

"Of course!" Mary granted the woman a smile before stepping back. She kissed Thomas's cheek, before saying, "Congratulations," yet again, and let Phyllis jump in.

Mary began heading back to her assigned table, expecting to find Tom there, but instead found him on the dance floor with Sybbie. George was running around with some other children, other students of Jimmy's, clearly having a wonderful time.

Mary took her seat, slipping her heels off and letting them rest on the cool floor just as Anna joined her, looking radiant and very happy. "Having a good time?"

"I am," assented Mary, leaning back in her chair. She eyed Anna's protruding stomach. "How are you doing?"

Anna beamed. "Wonderful. He's awfully excited tonight... he keeps kicking me. I think he's dancing in there."

Mary laughed, thinking about Baby Bates. Anna hadn't told her what they would name him yet, which meant she was dying of curiosity, but she knew it would be a boy. She was looking forward to his imminent arrival, but she knew Anna and John were even more excited; they had waited a long time to meet him.

"You aren't missing Henry too much?"

Mary's laughter stopped. She hadn't really thought of Henry much this evening... He had texted her once, asking her if she was enjoying herself, and she had answered him when she visited the loo. She wondered if maybe she wasn't missing him nearly enough...

She shook her head in response. "I'm just trying to stay in the moment," she lied, hating how cheesy and insincere it sounded, but Anna didn't seem to notice. It took a moment before she could ask Anna, "You like him, don't you? Henry, that is?"

"I like that he makes you happy," said Anna, which wasn't the same thing... and truth be told, Mary wasn't completely convinced she was happy... or at least not as happy as she could be. Henry was nothing like Matthew; they were both good men but they were drastically different people. She liked being with him but she didn't pine after him while he was away or secretly wish he was here now. It made her question herself, wondering if marriage really was the best choice.

Before Anna had time to question why Mary would ask her such a thing, Mary felt someone tap her on the shoulder. "Care to dance?" asked Tom, holding out a hand for Mary.

"Of course," replied Mary without a second thought. She turned back to Anna before saying, "I'm sorry to ditch you—"

"Don't," Anna waved her off. "John'll be back in a moment. Go have fun!"

Mary smiled gratefully at her before taking Tom's hand and let herself be lead onto the dance floor. "I forgot to put my shoes back on," she realized belatedly as her and Tom swayed back and forth. It was a slowish song and Tom hadn't exactly spent his Saturday afternoons learning to ballroom dance at age fourteen like she had— though admittedly her fourteen year old self had wished she could have been doing anything else at the time.

"It's fine. You don't need them," Tom said, spinning her. Mary's skirt fanned out ever so slightly before she turned back to Tom.

"I hope you realize that I'll be making you dance with me when it's my time," Mary said softly but loud enough to be heard over the strains of the violin in the song.

"What about Henry?"

"He can dance with me as many times as he wants to the rest of his life. It's my day and I want to dance with you at least once."

Tom cracked a smile. "Well, I hardly think you can say you'll be making me do it when it's something I'll do gladly."

Mary beamed, before realizing moments like this wouldn't happen so often once she was married. Maybe a dance or two at a party, maybe a night or two once a month... but Henry would always want to be there, too. It wouldn't be just them anymore...

And for whatever reason, that thought was a hard one to bear.

November 2, 2018

HENRY: Can I ask you a question?

MARY: You're already asking me a question

HENRY: Funny, but I'm serious

MARY: Go on

HENRY: How come you never spend the night at my place?

MARY: What are you talking about? I was just over last night.

HENRY: Yes, but you went home right after.

MARY: I told you, I wanted to get home in time to say good night to George.

HENRY: I know. But you've stayed later other nights and then gone home.

MARY: Those are usually weeknights and I have work in the morning. I don't feel like waking up early to drive back to Downton to change my clothes and then drive to the office

HENRY: You could always keep some clothes here. We'll be living together soon enough... and to be honest, it's starting to make me feel bad about myself

MARY: What is?

HENRY: You never staying the full night. I know you don't mean to, but I almost feel like I'm being used

MARY: You're right. I haven't been meaning to do that. I'm sorry.

HENRY: I know

HENRY: Maybe I could stay at your place?

MARY: If you'd like... but keep in mind that George and Sybbie are in the next room over and Tom is fairly close by... so I don't know if I would exactly be up for anything

HENRY: Very well. But it's hardly as if Tom isn't aware

Mary started, cheeks burning. What did he mean by that?

MARY: What do you mean?

HENRY: He's not naïve is all I'm saying.

MARY: Do you talk to him? About us?

HENRY: It's come up every now and again. I don't go into detail or anything.

Mary felt uncomfortable. In their friendship, her and Tom had never really discussed their sex lives... at all. Thanks to Papa's nearly Puritanical upbringing, Mary knew she had some hang ups when it came to discussing intimacy and she had never exactly felt the need to disclose any of it with Tom. Considering his initial reluctance speaking to her about possible romantic partners for fear of disrespecting Sybil's memory, Mary figured he felt much the same way. It made sense they wouldn't talk about that sort of thing. Mary was perfectly content to believe Tom had lived a monastic lifestyle following Sybil, never once feeling the need to question it. Though the same couldn't be said of her, she wasn't about to dispel any illusions he created for himself... Though clearly that was all in vain.

MARY: Well, please stop. I don't appreciate Tom hearing about those sorts of things about me

HENRY: I am sorry. I didn't even realize it would bother you. I'll stop

How could he not realize? Tom was her brother-in-law, for heaven's sake! She doubted he wanted to hear it, either. The longer she thought about Henry telling him these things, the more negative emotions were stirred up. She managed to quell her anger and sent one final text.

MARY: Thank you.

November 13, 2018

"What's this?" Real estate listing in York had been highlighted, in yellow and pink, the bright colors contrasting against the black and white print on the page of the newspaper. Mary picked it up, scanning it over. Flats, mainly, along with some small houses... two bedrooms.

Tom stood beside her, looking over Mary's shoulder. "I didn't think you would want me living with you. Not after the wedding."

The wedding. It was set for the end of February, the same day as their first date. It was perfectly romantic...

"We haven't really discussed where we'll be living," Mary told him, still staring down at the page, feeling sick to her stomach. "So don't look too far ahead."

"What? You mean you won't be living here?" Tom sounded shocked.

"Just— well, don't plan too far ahead." Truthfully, Mary didn't like thinking about the future too heavily. Leaving Crawley House was incomprehensible to her, but so was the idea of Tom leaving. Neither idea was comfortable to her...

But Tom nodded. "Alright."

December 14, 2018

ANNA: Since I'm the matron of honor, do you want me to organize a hen night? I know it's a small wedding party but it might be fun!

MARY: Don't worry about it, please. It's my second wedding and you'll have Baby Bates taking up you're time. I don't want you worrying.

ANNA: Are you sure? I don't mind organizing something small before he's here. It couldn't just be a girl's night watching movies.

MARY: It's alright Anna. Really. I don't mind it the slightest.

December 23, 2018

It occurred to Mary, as she parked her car in the garage, that she wasn't as happy as she should be. She turned off the headlights, opening the door and stepped out. She felt like she was performing a play, saying the right things at the right times and manipulating her body to go where it was supposed to. When she spent her evenings at Henry's, she had a nice enough time, but her mind was always wandering elsewhere. Even in bed together, Mary found her mind turning to other topics, like what things to add to the grocery list or remembering to finish wrapping up George's Christmas gifts.

Her heels echoed across the cement drive. They hadn't any snow yet, so she didn't have to worry about ice as she walked to the door, which was relief. Stepping in through front door dislodged some of the unease she had felt. The living room light was still on, meaning Tom was likely awake yet. She removed her boots, the heels clunking as she did so.

She found him laying on the couch, one of his action films playing in the screen. While Mary could sit through a Bond film just fine, all his other ones seemed to run together into a giant blur. She had taken to jokingly referring to them as White Action Man 3 or War Movie. He was asleep, a blanket draped across the lower half of his body.

Mary couldn't resist smiling down at him. It didn't occur to her then that simply seeing Tom filled her with more warmth and affection than a whole evening at Henry's flat had— all that she registered was that she was home.

Mary jostled him awake gently. "Hi," he muttered, pushing himself up. He rubbed his eyes. "What time 's it?"

"A quarter after eleven," said Mary, leaning against the couch.

"I thought you'd be staying with Henry tonight."

Mary shrugged. She didn't know why but she always let him believe that was her intention... most nights he was already asleep when she snuck back into the house, moving through the house like a teenager out after curfew. "I figured it'd be best to be here. I figured the children would want to wake up early to bake treats for Santa."

Tom didn't say anything merely sitting up. "You're right. We should probably go to bed." They exchanged smiles, making their way to the stairs. "Oh, I took care of George's gifts for you earlier. I hid them in my room with Sybbie's."

Mary stopped. "You didn't have to do that," she said, struck but pleased.

He smiled at her warmly. "I know. But I wanted to do it... and I wanted to save you some time panicking over not having the gifts wrapped just yet." He nudged her. "Consider it an early Christmas gift."

Mary grinned, unable to resist asking, "So are you saying you haven't bought me a real Christmas gift this year?"

"Of course not," Tom said, well aware she was joking but answering honestly regardless.

It wasn't until her and Tom said goodnight to one another and gone to their separate rooms that she felt the discontented stillness within her again. She slipped the ring off for her finger, setting it on her nightstand as she walked into her bathroom. She started up her shower, the water washing the night away from her.

Mary didn't slip the ring back on until the following morning, and it wasn't until Tom pointed out her bare finger that she even noticed it was missing.

December 30, 2018

"Are you happy?"

The question startled her. They had been sitting beside one another on the couch, enjoying some eggnog and winding down from the holidays. Mary and George had spent Boxing Day with Henry's family, who she really didn't know all that well and was relieved to be home. "Why do you ask that?"

Tom shrugged. "You don't seem like the typical bride to be. That's all."

Mary glanced down. She twisted the ring on her finger. It was still too gaudy... She hadn't grown to love it as she had hoped she would. She tried to remind herself that she loved Henry and that was the important thing, but she still hated looking at it, even after Henry's sisters and aunts and cousins had fawned over it. "I'm hardly the sentimental type."

"Maybe not... but I remember how you were with Matthew."

Mary gulped. "Henry isn't Matthew," she reminded him. Henry was so different to her husband in so many respects...

"No," he agreed. "But he makes you just as happy, doesn't he?" When she said nothing, his eyebrows furrowed. "Mary?"

She snapped back into reality. "Perfectly," she lied, not wanting to injure his feelings or blame himself for her unhappiness. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel responsible for her discontentment.

Truthfully, Mary wasn't sure what she wanted for her own life, and perhaps that was the real problem.

January 16, 2019

Mary's finger was bare. She was laying on her side, face pressed against a pillow, only half paying attention as Ross and Phoebe bickered on the screen. Her feet were resting on Tom's lap.

When the commercial break started, he muted the television. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Mary pushed herself up so she could reach for her drink. "I'm the one who broke it off."

"I'm the one who encouraged you to go back to him." There wasn't much left in the bottle, so Tom drank half of what remained as Mary emptied her glass. He offered it to her, and she swiped it from his hand, not bothering to pour it into her glass.

"Don't feel sorry for me, Tom," she said, a small amount of liquid left in the bottle. She finished it off before concluding, "Feel sorry for him." She curled her feet under her. "He's had his heart stomped on by me more than most." Truthfully, she wasn't even sad— Just angry. The one who would suffer was him.

Tom didn't laugh. She hadn't expected him to. It really wasn't much of a joke. "More wine?"

"I don't know. Not yet."

"Well, I could use some more." He rose to his feet, shirt riding up slightly as he did so, and padded to the kitchen. Mary laid back down, watching the bright colors flash on the television, not really absorbing any of it. A minute or so later, Tom was back with some rosé— her weakness. She leaned forward, nudging the glass in the coffee table towards him, and he refilled it for her.

"So... what happened?"

"It's my house. Why should I leave it?"

"That's fine, but what about Tom?"

"Like I said, it's my house. He can stay as long as he needs."

"What if he takes my flat? We could swap."

"You'll have to take that idea up with him, not me."

"I thought the idea of Tom's presence in the same house was a turn off for you."

"It is... but I don't feel right, telling him to leave. It's his home, too."

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

"Is it going to be my house, too?"

"If you want it to be."

"For fuck's sake..."

"What?"

"Why do I always having this feeling it's you and me and Tom?"

"He's our friend. And he's important to me. You know that."

"Even so, I don't like coming second in my own relationship."

"What are you talking about?"

"Shouldn't my feelings matter?"

"They do matter."

"Well, I've told you I don't know how many times that I don't exactly want to live with Tom, but you're so insistent on protecting his feelings. What about mine, Mary? How do you think it makes me feel, having my feelings constantly ignored?"

"Well, I'm sorry for caring about others, Henry. Is that what you want to hear? I'm sorry that I don't want to force my best friend and my niece out onto the streets."

"Don't twist my words."

"Then don't twist mine. It's my house, and I say Tom and Sybbie are welcome to stay as long as they need it."

"Fine. Very well. Have it your way, Mary. We'll live in your house and I'll be the quiet little househusband who says nothing. But Tom won't stay, not with me around."

"Don't worry. You won't be around." The ring hit the table.

"Don't be like this, Mary—"

"Don't touch me."

"Mary—"

"Goodbye, Henry. I hope you have a nice life. It just won't be with me."

"Or with Tom, apparently." A sigh. "Mary, you can't just—"

"No. Not with me, nor with Tom. And don't even think of repeating a word of this conversation to him."

"What's the point? You're his best friend. He won't want to see me anymore, he'll be on your side. There's no sense in me even trying to defend myself." The door opened. "I just hope you realize that he won't always be there. There will come a day when he'll want his independence. Are you ready for that day? Because I don't think you are."

"He's done that already and he came back in the end. I'd say he's happy where he is for now. If that changes in future, he won't hesitate."

"This isn't about Tom, Henry. This is about you and me. And I am the one ending this relationship with you, because clearly we are never going to agree on this."

"Nothing, really," she lied, taking a generous swing of wine. "I just— I just realized he wasn't the one for me after all. I can't describe it. There was just this moment where suddenly I finally saw things clearly." She took another sip. It wasn't a lie. Not really. She could still see his sneer, the roll of his eye, chasing her to the door to try and stop her from leaving his tiny flat. She hadn't wanted to hurt him... but she had been right all those months ago; they weren't meant for one another. It was time to accept that.

The moment she had seen her out, she latched onto it. She had a glimpse of a future version of herself, happy on the outside while inwardly a shell of who she once was. She supposed it was best it had come now instead of on the day of the actual wedding; she still cared for Henry and the last thing she would want to do was crush him as Anthony Strallan had Edith. Or worse— What if she hadn't had her revelation until after they had exchanged vows? It was a blessing there would be no divorce, no custody battle to duel over while putting George and any other children through the turmoil.

Tom nodded contemplatively. Friends was back on, but he made no move to turn the volume back on. "Well, I'm sorry it didn't work out. I really thought he might have been the one for you."

"Me too." Mary wished she had left things as they had been all those months ago... She had been right to break it off then, disillusioned to the fantasy life she had pictured with him. She had liked Henry, but a lifetime with him just wasn't something she could live with... but she wasn't going to say anything of the sort to Tom.

Another thing she would never disclose was how jarred she was by his insistences that Tom would one day leave... not because he was saying them, but because the thought frightened her. The sense of being abandoned had followed constantly during him absence... It wasn't until she drove through the darkened streets of York that she understood how deep that fear ran. It was more potent than her fear of a car accident, more than heights, more than spending an eternity with Edith...

It wasn't being alone. She could spend hours in the company of herself without any worries or cares... she even found herself contented, most times, on the rare occasions she had the house to herself or a car ride in solitude. It was being leftalone that bothered her— knowing nobody would come back.

She let those thoughts be drowned out when Tom turned the volume back on as a faceless people laughed offscreen.