Standby: Chapter 5

...

So tell me why this has to be
So heavy.
Tell me why this has to be...
'Cause I really thought that we'd be cool,
Some exception to the rule
But honestly
I think it has to be
This heavy

~Orla Gartland, Heavy.

...

Present Day

Her eyes shone forget-me-not blue...and feck it to blazes, he hadn't forgotten her.

It felt nice, walking into in a pub in Dublin with her for the first time in six years. For some unfathomable reason, it was as though a lifetime and no time at all had simultaneously gone by since Tom and Sybil had last been together.

Doyle's was filled with the characteristic sounds of good natured back slapping, drinking games and hundreds of conversations told in loud voices..all competing with latest hit songs that poured from the jukebox in the corner. The crowd was young, students from the university for the most part. It had once been a reliable haunt of theirs in college.

Sybil held up her hand to the bartender, having insisted upon buying the first round. It was the least she could do, she'd said, after he had given her his bed for the night.

Tom, on the other hand, knew her well enough not to argue on that one.

"Two pints of plain please."

He smirked softly at her order, close enough that Sybil would hear him over the wall of noise surrounding them. It had always amused Tom to no end, the radom tidbits of Irish culture that had rubbed off on her...apparently drinking slang was one of those unexpected acquisitions.

"Appears you weren't the only one to make a lasting impression", Tom teased, repeating her words from earlier on in the evening when she'd poured over his book shelf.

If memory served correctly he had been the one who bought Sybil her first pint of real Irish Guinness on a night out after a purely chance meeting during Fresher's week.

She smiled playfully, shoving a tall glass of the familiar black and white stout into his hand. "Oh so, you're admitting to having bought modern feminist literature now, are you?"

Tom found himself smiling at her, pointedly skirting around the question and directing their conversation back to more a comfortable territory.

"So what's it like to be a doctor? "Anythin' like it is on the telly?"

Although Sybil seemed a little amused by him changing the subject so rapidly, she visibly beamed at the question...positively glowing.

Whether it was from the fact she adored her job or that she was currently reminisng (as he was!) upon how she used to force him into watching mind numbing hospital dramas with her, Tom couldn't say.

"It's a little less hooking up with handsome coworkers in storage closets, and a little more all nighters spent elbow deep in placenta", she admitted lightheartedly, a genuine smile twitching at the corners of her lips. "but I wouldn't change a thing. I honestly couldn't imagine doing anything else."

Tom nodded, fondly remembering how determined and driven she'd always been.

In truth, it was one of the things that he had always admired about her, one of the things they had always had in common, at least until now...

"That's amazing, Sybil. I'm happy for you...truly."

She nodded, talking a languid sip from her drink. "Thanks...so what about you?"

Tom chuckled darkly, avoiding her eye. He knew that Sybil wasn't asking after his professional life in a condescending manner like a lot of other people tended to do.

But Tom wasn't even sure himself what would happen with his career from here on out, doubting every day whether it was still worth staying in the city he had grown up in.

"I thought we'd already established that my life started taking a nose dive ever since the woman I loved left me six years ago", he replied. Although his words had been intended as a slightly self depreciating joke, they had come out closer to the truth than Tom would even dare to admit to himself.

Who was he kidding, thinking he was over her!

Tom chanced a hesitant look at Sybil, immediately feeling guilty when he saw the startled look on her face. "Sorry Sybil. That was a joke...a bad joke"

She observed him for a second before seeming to accept Tom's excuse without a hitch. "Oh..oh, alright. That was umm...funny, very funny."

For a moment Sybil looked like she was going to say something more, make an equally strange but honest confession, but she thought better of it.

After all, she had always been the more practical and least fanciful of the two of them.

Tom glanced away, ducking his head sheepishly away from Sybil's watchful eye.

An awkward silence fell between the two of them until they both ended up avoiding one another's searching glances, choosing instead to watch the crowd milling about around them.

Seven Years Earlier.

Meeting him at her doorstep, Sybil eyes swept over Tom's face with a feverish concern.

The skin around his left eye was swollen, his nose was plugged with dried blood and his lips were glued shut by a nasty looking cut. She'd been in quite a panic ever since she first received his call, telling her not to worry but he'd been mugged on his way home from Temple Bar.

"For goodness sake, Tom!", Sybil mumbled, rushing to his side. Her fingers brushed carefully over his face, quickly accessing the damage done and checking to ensure his nose wasn't broken. "Why didn't you just give him your bloody wallet?"

Tom shook his head sheepishly, gently swatting her hands away.

"I wasn't exactly somber at the time, Syb", he defended dryly, purposefully thickening his already unmistakably North Dublin accent for effect. "Turns out being clattered across the face works like a charm to straighten up a drunken bowsie."

Stepping back for a moment, Sybil frowned up at him, her hands on her hips. Granted, something like this hadn't actually happened before...but once was more than enough to see her best friend hurt. "Oh Tom. What on earth am I going to do with you?"

"Stopping frettin', Sybil...I'm grand", he replied reassuringly. Again Tom tried (and failed!) to deflect her concerns with some lighthearted banter. "If I wanted someone to hover, I'd have gone home to Ma. I just need to clean myself up a bit so I don't freak anyone out."

Crossing her arms in frustration, Sybil sighed deeply, throughly unamused by his nonchalance.

"You've already freaked me out", she confessed, pointedly avoiding Tom's eye as she caught his bruised knuckles between both her hands for inspection. Despite how Sybil had intended for her tone to be sharp, her words came out rather soft...utterly betraying how worried she'd been about him and how relieved she was that he was mostly okay.

Although Sybil didn't see it, she heard Tom smirk affectionately. His fingers reached beneath her chin, gently tilting her head up to meet his eye. His smile was warm and apologetic, just enough to ellict a smile from her in return.

Not for the first time, Sybil found herself wondering if this was what it felt like to be truly in love.

Looking an absolute mess and acting as annoyingly stubborn as ever, Tom still managed to make her heart race and her stomach flutter without ever seeming to try.

"What are you going to do when people starting pouring into your emergency room some day?", he asked playfully. "They'll be in far worse shape than me, darlin'"

Sybil scowled in response, decidedly batting his fingers away. "If you ever show up any worse than this in my emergency room, Tom Branson. I'll kill you myself."

At this he laughed aloud, not unkindly.

Tom didn't move an inch from where he stood only inches in front of Sybil. She could feel his breath warm on her face, still smelling of the distinctive woody aroma of Irish whiskey. His nose was inches from hers, their chests somehow having ended up pressed against one another's.

"Wouldn't that be against your Hippocratic Oath, Future Doctor Crawley?"

Despite the wildly conflicting emotions still running rampant inside of her, Sybil didn't know how to feel about Tom's rather distracting electrifying proximity.

While she would end up blaming it on the two glasses of wine that she'd had earlier on in the evening with Edith and Mary, Sybil knew then that her alcohol consumption had nothing to do with the next words that slipped out of her mouth.

"I don't care!", she replied, more passionately than she ever intended to. She watched as Tom's eyes clouded over and darkened just a little...like the sea on a stormy day. Sybil felt a sudden rush of heat in her neck and cheeks. "I need you to look after yourself. I lo-."

"You what?", Tom challenged, eyes searching Sybil's for an honest answer as her voice trailed off and left him wondering.

What exactly Tom was looking for, she didn't dare to guess. However, the flicker of hope Sybil saw reflected back at her in his eyes set her soul alight. He reached out, fingers wrapping around her upper arm.

Sybil's nerve endings sparked at the rather innocent contact and her gaze instinctively fell upon Tom's lips. All cut and bloodied, the sight jolted her back to reality at full tilt.

Goodness, what was she doing!

"Never mind", Sybil replied with a decisive shake of her head. Not missing a beat she quickly composed herself, defensive walls shooting right back up again. "Now isn't the time."

Lightly, Sybil pushed her body away from Tom's, her movements careful and deliberate supposing his ribs were bruised.

"Let's get you cleaned up. You'll scare the life out of Mary and Edith otherwise."

As though on que, Tom's head turned in the direction of Sybil's kitchen. For the first time, he seemed to notice the voices of her two older sisters and how they carried through the small flat.

In all honesty, Sybil had forgotten about them herself until then.

Tom sighed, leaning back against the door frame. He shook his head slightly, looking discombobulated and a little disappointed.

"Jaysus, I forget they were here."

Sybil chanced a smile, hoping to defuse the remaining tension between them.

"Thought I just fancied a quiet night in, did you?"

Tom's hand dutifully slipped away from her arm and although Sybil knew it was for the best, she found herself missing the peculiarly comforting and exhilarating sensation of being held by him.

"I'm so sorry for bargin' in like this, Sybil. I shouldn't have", he whispered earnestly, dropping his voice a few decibels so as not to be heard by Mary or Edith.

Sybil worried at her lip, still feeling more emotionally exposed than she would prefer. "Don't say that Tom, I wouldn't have wanted you to go anywhere else."

Tom smiled tenderly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Although he said nothing, she could see in his eyes that he was touched by her uncharacteristically unguarded admission.

After all, heartfelt words were generally a lot more his forte than hers.

"I doubt your sisters would agree. I'm sure they already think your friends over here are a rough lot."

Just about suppressing an outright laugh, Sybil fought a smile at the irony (and accuracy!) of his words. It was true that she would have a tougher job than usual on next time that she visited Downton to assure her family that Dublin was in no way more dangerous than London (which it wasn't!) but Sybil wouldn't let that bother her now.

She took Tom by the hand, leading him towards her bathroom where she already had a first aid kit ready.

"And do you really think that you're doing your side any favours by showing up with a face like a plate of minced meat?", Sybil teased gently.

Tom rolled his eyes, eyeing her over the threshold. Smiling despite himself, he seemed to acknowledge the fact that they had gone back to their usual platonic banter, dancing around the possibility of being more than friends. "I s'ppose not."

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