Author's note

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I always love to hear from you.

This ficlet was written based on the inspiration of a beautiful picture of Sybil and Tom in Dublin, created by the lovely and talented buecherdieb, which you can see on my Tumblr blog - thank you so much for sharing your talent with us, my dear!

Catching a moment

"Tom, what a lovely surprise! I didn't expect to see you here." Sybil walked towards her husband, who was leaning on a lamp post outside the Rotunda waiting for her. She kissed him and he smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist -

"Mmm, I'll have another one of those, please." Tom pulled her close for a kiss that was long enough to attract catcalls from a passing tram.

"It's such a lovely evening, darling - I thought we might walk home the long way, spend a bit of time together after your shift before we pick up Aislín and Michael from my mother."

"What a perfect idea - we're always rushing around these days, it would be wonderful to stop and smell the roses. Who knows when we will get a day like this again?"

Hand in hand, the Bransons walked together through the centre of the city, sharing stories about their day.

"Sybil, did you hear - Dev has set up a Republican Cabinet - he's not giving in any time soon. I've to file a story on it this week."

"Oh, yes I did hear something - one of the doctors was talking about it. This fighting is showing no signs of stopping yet, is it?"

He shook his head, his face grim. "Since they killed the Big Fella, things have become much more bitter, it seems to me."

She remembered that tragedy only too well, as he did - their son had been born the same day the news reached Dublin a couple of months before, and he'd been named after the fallen leader.

"Want to go in?" They had reached St Stephen's Green and when she nodded, they turned through the gates. Looking around them, they could see that they weren't the only locals out enjoying the unexpected autumn sunshine and trying to take their minds off the war.

"What do you think, love?" He stopped walking, pointing at a photographer's booth - "We've not got many pictures of us yet, and I'd love one for my desk."

She squeezed his hand - "Oh yes, let's. I can send one home to my family."

The photographer quickly got set up - "Now, ready, please - stay still." They stared into the camera then, just as it flashed, Sybil's attention was distracted. She had to look away to stop herself laughing out loud as Tom's arm slid around her waist and she felt his fingers tickling her.

"Tom, you are awful - I'm sure you ruined our picture!"

She smiled at him and he knew she was only pretending to be angry as she gently brushed his fringe away from his face. They made arrangements to come back and pick up copies of the print when it was ready, and then made their way into the heart of the beautiful public space, beloved by all Dubliners.

"Want to sit down for a while, Sybil? You must be exhausted. How are you coping, being back at work? Are you sure it wasn't too soon?" He led the way to a bench and they sat down, her head resting on his shoulder as she nestled in under his encircling arm.

"I'm all right, Tom - I'm really happy to be back, I love working with the mothers and babies. We need to save money, too - I need to do a couple of shifts a week at least. We are so lucky to have your mother and sister to help us take care of the children - they are an absolute Godsend, I don't know what we'd do without them."

"I know, love, you are so right. In these times, more than ever, I'm so thankful for my family."

Sybil was silent for a moment, thinking about her own family, with whom she had been recently reconciled when Robert and Cora came over for a visit soon after Michael's birth. Tom knew his wife so well and, guessing what was on her mind, tipped her face up to his with a finger under her chin - "Would you like to take the children home to Downton Abbey for a visit, as your mother suggested?"

She shook her head and answered quickly - "No, sweetheart - this is where we belong, war or no war. You are my home now. I'm not going anywhere."

He tightened his arm around her, wiping away a tear from her cheek with his other hand - "A chuisle mo chroí…."

By way of answer, she leaned her forehead against his, then moved in closer to his body as he hugged her tightly. The shelter of their love left them, if only for a little while, oblivious to the troubled world turning around them. As long as they had each other, they could deal with anything that came their way.

A/N -

"A chuisle mo chroí" = pulse of my heart, in Irish Gaelic, per Google translate.

At the time this story is set, the Irish Civil War was in full swing - Sybil and Tom would recently have lived through the Battle of Dublin, a week of street battles in the capital that marked the beginning of the war. "Dev" is Éamon de Valera, while "The Big Fella" is Michael Collins - they fought on opposite sides of the Civil War after previously serving together in the First Dáil (Assembly of Ireland). Their disagreement sprang from their respective positions against and in favour of the Anglo-Irish Treaty signed in December 1921 that set up the Irish Free State and carved out Northern Ireland from the rest of the country. Collins (who was one of the Irish signatories to the Treaty) was ambushed and killed in Cork in August 1922 by anti-Treaty forces, while de Valera went on to fill many positions of political power in what became the Republic of Ireland, well into the 1960s.