A/N : Here's part 2 (of what I think is going to be 3 !)

Christmas day, 1940

When Sybil awoke early on Christmas morning the first thing she was aware of was that she was warm and comfortable. Then she noticed the quiet. The only sound she could hear was Tom's regular breathing. She felt cocooned in the soft, velvet darkness of the room and it took her a few seconds to remember where she was. The last thing she could remember was talking to Tom in bed the previous night. She didn't even remember falling asleep. It was the first uninterrupted night's rest she had had for weeks, but she felt strangely exhausted, the weight of her body pulling her down into the mattress and back into sleep.

Beside her, Tom shifted and opened his eyes. He reached out underneath the covers to place a hand on her waist as a slow, lazy smile spread across his features.

"Happy Christmas, love."

She turned towards him, shuffling a little closer as he gathered her to him.

"Happy Christmas," she whispered into his chest.

"What time is it ?"

"It's still dark so it must be early," she started to turn to look at the clock beside the bed, but he pulled her closer.

"No matter. No one's up yet. Let's just go back to sleep."

She snuggled even closer, burying her nose into his chest as she felt his chin come to rest on the top of her head.

"I can't remember the last time I didn't have to get up," said Sybil.

Above her, Tom emitted a sound half way between a grunt and a sigh, a sure sign that he was drifting back to sleep. The world was silent, all her children were under the same roof, warm and safe, and she and Tom were together. London and the war seemed a million miles away. In her heart of hearts she knew this was just a temporary respite, a small, still period of calm in the madness, but that made it all the more precious. So she concentrated on the feel of Tom's cotton shirt under her cheek and allowed herself to be lulled back to sleep by the steady beating of his heart.

The Bransons slept late, so the breakfast room was already full by the time Tom arrived. Matthew was seated at the head of the table, where Robert had sat for so many years that it still surprised Tom when he saw him. Mary sat next to him. Nora and George were up. Nora had changed into normal clothes, but George was in his uniform. His surprise visit was by virtue of a last minute 48 hour pass, so he would have to leave tomorrow morning to get back to his base. They were joined by Patrick and Henry, deemed grown up enough to join their parents at breakfast. Breakfast was shaping up to be a jolly affair - George was in the middle of a tale of his life on the base and Nora was teasing him about something. She saw Tom first.

"Merry Christmas, Da !" Nora got up and kissed him on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Uncle Tom !"

"Merry Christmas to you, too," he smiled, making his way to the buffet. "Something smells good !" He lifted up the silver tray closest to him. "Bacon !' he exclaimed. "You clearly haven't been feeling the pinch of rationing up here !"

"Thank goodness for the pigs," said Mary. "But don't think we eat like this all the time - we slaughtered one for Christmas."

"Well, I've not had bacon and eggs for months," said Tom, sitting down with a full plate. "It would raise a few eyebrows if we kept a pig in our flat,"

"We are lucky," said Matthew. "We've the pigs and the hens, and the kitchen garden gets put to good use. But we still see as little sugar as you do. And tea. Mrs Parker complains about it all the time. She says its quite put her off her stride."

"Is Mama coming down ?" asked Nora

"No, she having breakfast in the nursery with Quin and the twins."

"Are you going to Mass in Ripon this morning ?" asked Mary

Tom nodded.

"I hope you don't mind. I'd like us to go. I know there's no-one for Quin and the twins to go with here and I don't want them to forget they're Catholics."

"Of course not," said Matthew. "We're only sorry we couldn't find anyone to take them regularly."

"Lucky them," said Patrick under his breath, hissing as his sister kicked him hard underneath the table.

And so after breakfast the two families decamped in two different directions; the Crawleys to Downton village church and the Bransons to Ripon. By the time the Bransons returned Cora and Aunt Rosamund had arrived and it was almost time for lunch.

Lunch, as was traditional, was a buffet of cold cuts. All the children were present without Nanny, who was having lunch with the rest of the staff. This made for a rather noisy meal, with many injunctions not to drop food on the carpet, not to steal your sibling's food and to wipe one's fingers before touching anything. Mary and Sybil felt quite exhausted by the end of it, as Matthew and Tom had managed to be completely oblivious to their offspring running around as they talked about the Blitz and whether President Roosevelt would offer any help from the US. George and Nora sat in the corner, smoking and sharing what they were able of their experiences. Nora told him that she was about to train as a dispatch rider and was going to learn to ride a motorbike.

"Golly, Nor - have you told your Mama ? She'll have a fit !"

"Not yet. And actually, Mama's not the problem. I'm more worried about what Da'll say."

George laughed.

"Uncle Tom'll be jealous. I reckon he always wanted to learn to ride a motorbike."

"Well, maybe I can take him pillion," Nora smiled.

"it's funny, isn't it ?" he said, "still worrying what our parents will think when they have no say in what we do. They can't stop us doing our duty."

Nora turned to look back at her parents.

"They love us. It must be hard for them. Only a year ago we were barely out of school,"

She grew more serious, a small wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows. It made her look just like Sybil.

"Is it really bad up there, Georgie ?"

George's face was a mask. He turned and looked out of the window for a long while.

"It's my duty, Nor." He turned back to her with a sigh. "Most of the time I'm so busy that I can't think about anything else. I have to concentrate, otherwise we'd never get home. And I'm not alone."

"But - "

"Let's have a drink," he said, getting up. "Barrow - is there any Scotch left ?"

After lunch, the excitement of the younger children in the room mounted as it was time to open gifts. Presents this year were not extravagant, but rather were practical things that would be put to good use. There were toys and books, but it seemed wrong to have too much when all around them people were losing everything they had. Christmas was Cora's favourite time of the year simply because she could spoil her grandchildren. This year, she gave her youngest daughter's children sensible coats and sweaters that were maybe a little more expensive than their parents would have bought, as well as a new doll for Cathleen, books for Quin and Patrick and some games for Aiden. Nora received a charming but discreet new brooch. Sybil gave Tom a new wristwatch and he in turn handed her a thin flat box, which when she unwrapped it contained the most beautiful blue silk scarf and, much to her delight, two pairs of silk stockings.

"Wherever did you get these ?" she squealed. "I hope," she said looking at him sternly, "that you have not been buying things on the black market !"

Tom looked offended.

"Of course not ! These were purchased legitimately, Mrs Branson, so you've no need to worry !"

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, as giddy as a girl twenty years younger. It made his chest tighten with love to see her so happy and relaxed again, even if it was for just a fleeting moment in time. This is what it is all for, he thought. This is what we are all fighting for, and if it means that we can be free like this for always, it will be worth it.

Things settled down after a while as the children inspected their new toys and sat and played quietly for once. Quin had taken himself off to a corner of the room to read his new books without interruption. Sybil spied him behind a chair, head bowed, intently turning over the pages. Quiet by nature, he had been particularly reserved today, flitting like a ghost between his parents and his siblings and cousins. She got up and went to kneel beside him.

"What are you doing down here, darling ? Why don't you come and sit by the fire ?"

"It's alright, Mama. I want to look at my book."

"It looks an exciting book - why don't you show me ?" she said.

Quin shifted to give her room to sit beside him. She put an arm behind him and felt him sink his little body into hers. He smelt of soap and talcum powder. She couldn't resist giving his hair an affectionate rub. They sat quietly, turning the pages of the book, Quin pointing out something to her now and then, pleased to have his Mama's complete attention for once. Half way through, he turned to look up at her.

"Mama - can I go home with you and Da after Christmas ?"

Sybil's heart sank.

"Why ?" she said brightly. "Don't you like being here with your cousins ?"

Quin looked back at his book, disappointed.

"It's alright," he mumbled. A thought struck Sybil.

"Has anyone been horrid to you, darling ? Anyone at school ?'

He shook his head.

"No, Mama. I just want to be at home with you and Da."

"Oh, my darling," Sybil reached over and gathered him to her, hugging him tightly. She had to think carefully about what she said next.

"I want you to be home with us too," she said, thinking furiously. "But the thing is, Quin, Mama needs you to be here, to do a very important job and look after the twins. They're too little to be in London right now."

Quin frowned.

"Nanny looks after the twins,"

"Yes, but I need you to keep a special eye on them," she said. "Nanny's not the same as having your big brother with you. It makes them feel safe."

Quin thought about this and Sybil could feel him straighten up a little, sitting a little taller in the knowledge that he had been entrusted with a Very Important Job.

"All right," he agreed. "But you'll come and visit again, won't you ?"

Sybil kissed the top of his head.

"Yes, my darling. Of course we will."

Quite soon, it was dark and time for the nursery tea, which both sets of parents joined. Then it was time to retire and change for dinner. Perversely, Tom rather enjoyed changing into his dinner jacket and it was certainly lovely to see Sybil don one of her dresses from before the war. It made things seem normal. Everyone tried to make dinner a jolly affair, but they all knew George would be leaving in the morning. Mary was determined not to be downhearted about it. He was here, and for now that was all that mattered. After dinner everyone retired to the drawing room and the Game was played with great enthusiasm, George and Nora becoming quite competitive. But it felt good to laugh again. It was nearly eleven o'clock when Sybil and Tom finally wound their way upstairs to bed.

"Look, Tom - it's snowing !"

Sybil had pulled the curtains back and looked out as fat white flakes floated past and began to collect in the corner of the window. Outside, the park seemed to glow under a heavy blanket of cloud.

Tom came up behind her and put his arms around her waist, drawing her back to him. She leaned back into his chest, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I used to love Christmas," she said sadly, "but now all I do is wonder where we'll all be this time next year."

He dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Don't think on it, love. We're here, now, with the children. Let's just enjoy what we've been given whilst we have it."

She reached up to stroke his cheek with a tender finger.

"Always so wise, Branson"

"Thank you, m'lady," he grinned.

Sybil smiled and reached up to kiss him, turning in his arms to pull him tight. Tom responded with enthusiasm and it was a while before they broke apart. Sybil sighed.

"Merry Christmas, Tom"

"Merry Christmas, love."

A/N : So George is an observer on a bomber - at this stage of the war, observers were responsible to navigating the plane, thus getting them to the target and then back home again without getting lost or running out of fuel. They were also responsible for aiming the bombs.