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.

I also want to thank whomever it was that nominated this story collection for a couple of Highclere Awards - it means so much to know you have enjoyed these stories as much as I have enjoyed writing them! Thank you!

I've been intending to write this angsty story for a very long time and I have finally done it, to mark the birthday of a dear friend and talented artist - angiemagz. Angie, I hope you enjoy my version of episode 3.05, as I think it should have been…

More than life itself

A gentle hand on his shoulder – "Mr Branson? Are you all right?"

Tom looked up, tears streaming down his face.

"It's my wife – complications – I don't know..."

He couldn't say any more and collapsed into sobs, running his hands through his hair, hunching his shoulders against the pain.

"Why don't you tell me about her – it might help."

Tom began to speak...

A few hours earlier

"Tom?"

"Darling, what is it?" Tom was instantly awake.

"I think the baby is coming..."

A rush of conflicting feelings raced through him – joy, fear, uncertainty. He put his arm around her, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"It's a bit early – what if there's something wrong?"

"Sybil, I'm here, don't worry about a thing. I'll take care of you both."

He got out of bed and went around to the other side, taking Sybil's arm to steady her as she stood up. He helped her get dressed, pulling on a pair of trousers himself, and grabbed the little bag that they had made ready a couple of weeks before.

It was a warm night in Dublin so they didn't need their coats. He had the keys to his brother's car, with standing permission to borrow it for the short drive to the hospital when the time came, so he guided her onto the back seat and took his place in front.

It's strange – here I am again, driving Lady Sybil Crawley...

Reading his mind, as she did so often, she said – "Tom, having you drive me again reminds me of our early days, when I was falling in love with you and too afraid to tell you."

"My darling…"

"If only I'd had the courage to say yes to you sooner – think of all the years we missed out on, when we could have been together!"

He looked back at her briefly, as he always used to do. "Sybil, every day I have with you is precious, I treasure them all so much. We have so many wonderful days to look forward to – let's not regret the past. I promise you, I never do."

They pulled over at the kerb outside the hospital and he opened the door for her, putting his arm around her waist as they started to walk. She stopped for a minute and looked up at him, putting her hand on his cheek and smiling into his eyes.

"Sweetheart, do you know what you mean to me? I love you more every day of my life. You are my life. As long as I have you, I can face anything."

Hearing her words, he was so moved that, despite their situation, he took a few moments to fold her in his arms and kiss her tenderly in the middle of the street.

"Don't be afraid, my love – you will always have me, you know that."

Sybil nodded. "I do know that, Tom. And don't forget - we are the Bransons! We can do whatever we set our minds to."

Tom kissed her again - "You are so right, Mrs Branson! Look, here we are – let's go in."

As they came through the hospital door, she stumbled – "I feel strange, my head hurts, I need to sit down…" Shocked, he was only just in time to catch her as she fainted…

"Doctor? Somebody, please help us? It's my wife – our baby is coming..."

A man in a white coat came over to them – "Can I help you, Mr..."

"Branson, Tom Branson. Please, Doctor – it's Sybil, she's in labour..."

"Nurse! This young woman needs to be taken straight to Maternity."

Tom looked at Sybil anxiously as she was lifted out of his arms onto a trolley. She was still unconscious and her face was flushed. Her breathing was shallow and he could feel her pulse racing when he took her hand.

"Doctor, what is it?"

"I don't like it – her blood pressure is too high. Could be a sign of... I need to examine her. Nurse, please take Mr Branson to the waiting room."

"No! I'm not going to any fecking waiting room! I must stay with her, she needs me, I have to be with her!"

The doctor was unmoved by this passionate outburst.

"It's the rule, Mr Branson – no husbands allowed." Seeing Tom's terrified face, he relented a little – "Try not to worry, Mr Branson. I promise you, we will give your wife every care."

"Please? She's not from Dublin, I'm her only family here, I don't want her to be alone..."

"We will tell you what's happening, as soon as we can. Think of your wife and child, they need you to be strong for them."

Does he really think I don't know that? Tom suppressed the urge to take a swing at the doctor, because he knew Sybil needed him to stay calm.

"I have to say goodbye to her – I need her to know..."

The doctor stepped back from the trolley where Sybil lay. Her distraught husband looked down at her, feeling tears start to fall down his face as he took her hand and pressed it to his heart.

"Sybil, my love, my beautiful wife – can you hear me? You are going to be fine, and so is our baby, I promise you. I just have to let the doctors take care of you for a little while. Please know, I am with you in my heart, I am always with you. I love you so much, you are everything to me..."

His voice cracked and he leaned down to kiss her lips softly before watching them wheel her away. Then, he allowed himself to be led by the nurse to a quiet room nearby.

She looked at him sympathetically – "Mr Branson – would you like a cup of tea?"

"I don't suppose you have a shot of whiskey, do you?"

"Mr Branson!"

"Sure, a cup of tea can't hurt – thank you."

The next couple of hours were utter torment for Tom. He couldn't sit still – all he could do was pace, back and forth, waiting for news.

Finally, the nurse was back. He grabbed her hand – "For God's sake – what's happening?"

"Mr Branson, I'm afraid things aren't looking good. Your wife isn't progressing as we would like. She's suffering from a condition called pre-eclampsia which is making things very difficult for her."

"What does that mean?" He looked at her imploringly.

"Her blood pressure is too high, and it's putting a lot of dangerous pressure on her body as she goes into full labour."

"But how, how could it be? She was fine all through her pregnancy, didn't ail a day."

"It's something that just happens, particularly to young mothers. We are preparing her for a caesarean section – that is the best chance she has."

"You mean – cut her open? Oh my God!" Tom was frantic. "Please, you have to let me see her, I have to take care of her!"

"Mr Branson, I'm sorry but that just isn't possible. Please stay here and I will be back as soon as I can…"

The full meaning of what the nurse had said registered in his brain as she left the room, and he fell into the nearest chair. Tears streamed in earnest down his cheeks as he buried his face in his hands. He started to pray, pray to the God of his childhood for his beloved Sybil, and for their child, in this time of mortal danger…

Le do thoil, Dia, I can't live without her, please...

Tom looked up – there was no-one there. Did I imagine it? Then, he heard footsteps outside the room and jumped out of his seat.

"Mr Branson..."

"Is she all right? Tell me, damn it!"

The nurse smiled at him and put her hand on his arm.

"She's safe now, Mr Branson. You did the right thing, bringing her in as quickly as you did – we were able to operate in time, and she's safe. She's resting now, with your daughter."

"Safe? With my – daughter?"

It was almost too much for him to take in after his night of agony in the waiting room and all he wanted now was to see her, hold her, never let her go. He ran down the corridor ahead of the nurse, to a closed door.

"She's in there, Mr Branson – you can go in now..."

He didn't even hear her as he pushed his way into the room...

"Tom, is that you?" Her voice was weak, but it was her – she was alive!

"Sybil, my love, my darling love!"

Tom ran over to where Sybil was lying in bed, near the window which was just starting to show the first streaks of dawn outside. Tears still lay on his cheeks as he leaned in to kiss her and she put her hand up to wipe them away.

"Shhh, sweetheart, don't cry."

He took the seat next to her and put his arm around her shoulders, moving behind her as best he could so she could lie back against his chest, which he knew always comforted her.

"Sybil, oh God, what if..." He pressed a kiss into her hair.

"Tom, don't say it, don't even think it – I am all right, and so is our baby."

He realised he had almost forgotten he was a father in his relief at seeing his wife again, safely through her ordeal.

"We have a daughter?"

"Yes – she's just there, and longing to meet her Da."

He stood up and moved over to the cradle by the window. When he saw the newborn baby lying there, wrapped in a blanket with a fuzz of dark curls on her head, he felt himself melt inside. He gently picked her up and smiled as his daughter opened her blue eyes and stretched out her little hands towards him.

"Hello, a stóirín." Her little fingers grabbed one of his and his heart lurched inside his chest.

He looked from her face to Sybil's – "She looks just like you."

"Well, she has your eyes, love. She's a little bit of both of us, I think."

Tom carried the precious bundle over to the bed and Sybil reached out – "I'd like to hold her, I haven't been able to hold her yet."

He gently placed the baby on the young mother's breast, and her arms came up to hold their daughter close. She winced slightly as she felt her stitches pull, unwilling to give up this moment.

"Oh Tom, she's our angel! I never knew... I mean I knew I would love her, but I could not imagine a love like this..."

Her face was joyful as she looked up at him and he smiled into her eyes, smoothing her tousled hair back from her cheek before resuming his seat by her side.

"What shall we call her? Somehow, the names we spoke about don't seem to fit."

"Well, how about Aislín? It's an Irish name, meaning dream or vision… and she really is our dream come true tonight, Sybil."

"Ash-lin." The unfamiliar name was on her lips for the first time as she looked at their daughter. "Yes – I love it! That's perfect for her."

They both had tears in their eyes now, tears of joy this time. Tom kissed Sybil's lips for a long moment and leaned his forehead against hers, too full of warring emotions to speak. He reached around her, pulling her gently to him so that he was holding her and Aislín together. After a while, he whispered to her –

"Oh my darling, I do love you so much. I promise to devote every waking minute to your happiness, both of you..."

Tom's renewed promise was even more deeply felt than when he had first made it to Sybil, years before. He tightened his arms around his beautiful family, knowing he would gladly lay down his life to protect them. A rush of love and joy raced through him, so strong it made him tremble, as he realised how lucky he was...

A/N -

Irish translations per Google translate -

"Le do thoil, Dia" = Please, God

"a stóirín" = my little darling

You can count on me – in my stories, Lady Sybil always lives! I'd love to know what you think. :)