A/N: Thanks to all who took time to review the last chapter.

October 1920 part 2

The bright light shined directly in his face, he twisted his head to avoid the glare but a hand roughly grabbed his hair, causing him to wince, as the hand twisted his head so that he once again faced the unbearably bright light.

"I don't know what you're talking about." By this time Tom's voice was barely more than a whisper. His body sagged and if it wasn't for the ropes looped through anchors high up on the wall and then tied around his wrists that kept him upright he would have sunk to the floor. As it was his knees buckled causing the ropes to tighten and he screamed as a searing pain shot through his left shoulder as his arms were pulled up by the tightening of the ropes.

In the haze that was his mind he barely remembered what had happened. He had been on his way to the garage … the sound of gunfire … the sharp pain in his shoulders as if a thousand bees had stung him all at once … and then … he rapidly blinked his eyes as if that would bring back the memories.

"Where is …" the voices raged at him. How many times had they asked him the same questions over and over again?

Pain rippled throughout his body.

Despite the bright light glaring directly on his face it was becoming darker and darker.

He saw Sybil holding Keela against her chest. Sybil, his lovely beautiful Sybil. She looked up at him with that gleam in her eyes and that sweet smile. "Sybil love" He felt his lips moving but no sound came out. "Sybil" he tried again but there was now total quietness as it became darker and darker until even the image of her faded away.

The sky was still dark, not the inky black of a starless night but rather more of a steely gray that signaled dawn was slowly approaching. At ground level it was darker for no lights appeared from any of the buildings that lined the alleyway. At this early morning hour it was quiet for this was the time that revelers had long left the pubs and made their way home and workers snug in their beds snatched that last precious hour or two of sleep before waking to face another day of labor. Even the cool breeze that made Sybil pull her fluffy bathrobe tighter around her didn't cause anything to stir and disturb the silence. She sat on the hard wooden boards of the kitchen porch, her feet firmly planted on the stairs that led to the alleyway below. This was the way Tom had gone that morning she thought. It had almost been this same time of early morning when he walked down these stairs and out into the alleyway and then …

She moved her legs so that her knees were bent and wrapped her arms around them. Leaning over she rested her head against her knees and closed her eyes. Where are you Tom she softly murmured as a stray tear dampened her cheek.

She had left the kitchen door ajar and she could now hear someone moving around the kitchen. Maybe if she stayed still and silent whoever it was wouldn't notice her sitting on the porch. You have to be strong. You need to eat. Think of Keela. Keela needs you. She was just so tired of everyone telling her what to do.

The whistling of the tea kettle shattered the quietness and she thought that maybe it was Cillian getting ready for work. He had stayed here so many nights since Tom disappeared as if Sybil and Keela and Meg needed protecting. He had also worked tirelessly in trying to find Tom and for that Sybil would also be grateful whatever the outcome should be. It hadn't been just Cillian, all of Tom's family and Fergus and the guys who worked in the shop and Tom's colleagues on the paper and Sybil suspected, those men at the garage and in that secretive group that both Cillian and Fergus were part of, had tried finding out what had happened to Tom. Even in her fog of those earliest days she had recognized one of the men and lads who came to talk to Fergus. The man had taken away the young boy she had nursed in one of those secret rooms in the warehouse and the lad was the young boy's brother. As they were leaving she had collected her wits enough to ask about the young boy, her patient, and the lad had smiled at her as he said his brother had recovered thanks to her.

Yet when someone walked out onto the porch and then sat beside her Sybil knew from the rustle of her skirt that it was her mother-in-law.

To Sybil's surprise Finnoula Branson didn't say a word, instead sitting down next to her, Finnoula silently offered Sybil a mug of sweet steaming tea which Sybil took. The moments ticked by but neither woman said a word and Mrs. Branson took this time to look closely at her daughter-in-law. Although it was too dark here on the porch too see she knew that Sybil's pain was on etched on her face with the deep dark circles under her eyes, the lifelessness in her normally bright blue eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks. It had been a long time since Finnoula had doubted the girl's love for her son but watching Sybil these past weeks Finnoula felt guilty for ever having had such thoughts.

"I've always loved this time of day just before dawn. I've always thought it was a wonderful time to think" Sybil finally broke the silence between them and although her voice was low it was strong. Mrs. Branson silently wrapped her hand around one of Sybil's as she waited for Sybil to continue.

"When I was a little girl I'd sometimes sneak out to watch the sunrise. I loved the stillness of that time of day and as the sun began to rise it seemed like the world came alive. I know many people think sunset is beautiful but I've always preferred sunrise."

Sybil paused as she took a deep breath. "I love sunrise because it is the beginning of something rather than the end."

Sybil squeezed her mother-in-law's hand. "I believe one of these sunrises will bring the day when we find Tom."

"It can't hurt to try one more time" Cillian was defiant. "Maybe we'll find someone who didn't talk to us before or someone who now remembers something."

"I guess anything is better than just sitting around here waiting for Tom to walk back in that door on his own" replied Brendan the oldest of Tom's brothers. Some time ago Brendan had surmised that Cillian was involved in clandestine activities in the fight for Irish freedom and now, he wondered if Tom was also involved. He knew of Tom's writings but had his younger brother taken a more active role? Had he become involved with the rebels despite having an English wife? A wife that wasn't only English but the daughter of an Earl. Brendan shook his head.

The sheetless mattress was stained with the blood and urine of those who had lain here before him, but Tom was oblivious to this. Without the benefit of any anesthesia the bullet had been crudely removed from his shoulder. It had been removed more to cover the fact it was a British made bullet that had penetrated Tom's skin than to offer any relief.

"When can we move him?" the guard standing beside Tom's bed asked.

"He's not too stable, been drifting in and out of conscious" replied the doctor. "Unless you want him to die before you can question him again I'd leave him here another day or two."

Although he was English, the doctor wasn't heartless and in fact as time had passed he came to feel sympathy for many of the men he had treated. At first he thought of those he treated as enemy combatants but he'd come to realize that not all of those brought here had actually been engaged in fighting against England. Some had been just been drunk and in their drunken state had run their mouths off at an inopportune time, some were unfortunate bystanders caught in the crosshairs and others were cases of mistaken identity. He looked down at the man in the bed and wondered what was his story.

Standing in the arched opening between the kitchen and the large dining/sitting room Meg wiped away a tear as she watched Sybil quietly rocking back and forth in the wooden rocker as she softly crooned Keela to sleep. Closing her eyes Meg took a deep breath to steady herself.

Meg set the cup of steaming tea on the small table beside Sybil who gave her the feeblest of smiles before looking down and gently kissing the top of Keela's head.

"Is she-" Sybil's voice was low.

Meg nodded. "Should I put her in her cradle?"

Sybil wrapped her arms around her small daughter as if she were afraid to let her go.

Standing up Meg reached out her arms to take the sleeping infant. Sybil looked from her daughter to Meg and then back at Keela before reluctantly handing the baby to Meg.

Meg returned to the sitting room with a tray holding another cup of tea, a plate with slices of freshly baked barmbrack bread and a small pot of butter. "So that is what smells so good" Sybil said as she reached for a slice of the warm sweet bread filled with raisins. Meg was heartened to see Sybil's appetite finally returning.

As Sybil took a few bites of the bread, Meg cast her eyes down towards her lap as she nervously ran her thumbs back and forth across the backs of her fingers. Sybil looked at her curiously for it was so out of character for Meg.

Unlike herself who often held back her feelings, years of that aristocratic training was hard to shed, Meg was quite direct and outspoken.

Sybil set her plate back on the table. "Meg whatever-"

"Oh Sybil I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it" a distraught Meg blurted out.

Sybil curiosity only deepened for she had no idea what Meg was referring to. "Didn't mean what?"

"I dddin't … didn't …" a teary Meg sniffled. "about … hating the English."

"Oh Meg" Sybil sat on the edge of her chair and leaned over to grab Meg's hands.

Meg's teary eyes looked directly at Sybil. "It's just that when Cillian found that Tom had been shot and taken away by those awful …. awful Black and Tans I … I" she burst into tears. "I didn't mean you. I don't hate you" Meg managed to say between sobs.

"Meg I know my too many of countrymen aren't at their best here in Ireland and that it's been this way for a long long time. I'm lucky that Tom saw beyond that and gave me a chance."

"Oh Sybil I just couldn't bare it if you thought-"

Sybil moved over to the cushioned sofa and sat next to Meg. "Meg you've been tremendous these past weeks." Sybil began stroking Meg's hair. "You've made sure there's food for everyone that's come here and you've cleaned the house and done the laundry and took care of Keela when I was too numb to do so. I couldn't have gotten through these days without you."

Sybil handed Meg her handkerchief and the younger girl began wiping away her tears.

"Now we have to focus on finding exactly where Tom is and getting him back and I think you can help me in that."

"Me? But … how?"

"I need to contact your cousin Kate."

He stood alone in the near darkness, already shivering although his body was still dry. He wasn't sure how long he had stood there waiting but then that was part of the torment wasn't it. Then just as you thought that maybe this time …

Tom woke. His heart was racing so fast that he could feel each heartbeat. His hand stroked his damp forehead but the wetness wasn't from buckets of icy water poured on him but from his own sweat. Laying still it took him a moment to realize that this time it had only been a dream.