A/N: You know when you've read something a million times and somehow proofreading it that thoroughly has caused you to overlook mistakes because your eyes have just gotten used to them? (Well even if you don't, that's what has happened here...sorry for the errors that I'm sure exist in this!)


When their plane landed, Martha did not go to the airport to greet her family. Their visit was an altogether unwelcome one; they had invited themselves, giving Martha so little time to react that she had no other choice but to open her home to them. So she bit her tongue, just like she always did.

Robert was never the man Martha wanted for her daughter but she accepted their relationship because she knew to cast Cora off was to dismiss her from her life. Cora enjoyed London and she enjoyed the titles. Leaving New York was such an easy feat for the teenage girl that Martha wondered how her daughter now struggled with the mindset behind Sybil's need to escape. Sybil honed her mother's free-spirit and her father's stubborn soul. These defining characteristics are what made her the woman she was today: an unmarried medical student with a beautiful baby girl.

Sybil was sweet and she carried with her a heart most weren't capable of even believing in. Now she had with her a child and a man that loved her more than most. Together they were hardworking and the family they created was something Martha almost envied. She'd done her best to raise her children well after her husband's death but she admitted that she was reliant on monetary affections when her own emotions were not acknowledged enough to develop properly and be shared. Isla had Martha ignited once more; she was reminded of the beauty behind love and kindness and ultimately, forgiveness. It was this last trait that had Martha accepting Robert and Cora's self-invitation. They'd stay in her home and she'd decide, in the meantime, how she'd have them gone before Sybil's arrival. It truly was never her intention to have the two meet.

Similarly, with Robert and Cora's intentions, no time was spared in n bringing them to light. Just as soon as suitcases were set down and tea was poured, Mary, always the bold one, cut the silence quite casually.

"Where is she?"

Martha looked around. "Who?"

Even Edith rolled her eyes. "Oh please Gran! Sybil...obviously."

"How is that supposed to be obvious to me?"

"Well isn't she here?" Edith added.

"Where do you have her hidden?" Robert asked. It was also an accusation, that of which was not lost on Martha.

"That is a lot of interest for a man who couldn't answer her phone calls, much less read her letters…"

"She left us," Robert stated.

"Yes," Martha nodded. "Children leave sometimes," she reminded, looking right at Cora. "And sometimes they come back, inviting themselves into your home, demanding answers you may or may not have…"

"Oh, Mama, please!"

"Cora, I owe you nothing. Simply put, Sybil is not here."

"Then where is she?" Edith asked.

Martha shrugged. "Not here."

Robert leaned back, rubbing at his eyes to rid them of their exhaustion. "Jesus Christ…"

"Say she was here...what would it matter?"

"Well I'd like to see her," Cora insisted.

"Why? Why now? After nearly five years…" This was a comment on Cora's absence in New York, not in her daughter's life.

"I...we're worried about her. We've heard things."

"Things?" The word was far more irritating to Martha than any could explain. "Well if she were here, I don't know why you'd worry. New York has far more to offer a girl like Sybil than London does…"

Edith sat forward. "So she's in the city?"

"She's in a city, sure…"

"For fuck's sake, Martha!" Robert shouted. "How long are we going to play this game?"

Martha stood, causing Robert to sit back on his chair. He was no longer a man but a little boy, scared before Martha had even opened her mouth. "I have nothing to give you. I asked all of you to reach out to her after she left and you didn't. I was upset and I told you how much it meant to me that you all fix this and still no one would budge. Those were my requests and they weren't even met with consideration. Now you come into my home, a home I have invited you in because I don't think I had much of a choice, and you're upset because I'm not giving you what you want? There are more than enough lovely hotels in this city if you have a problem with any of this. I'd hate for you to be uncomfortable staying here tonight…"

"Granmama, please! I wanted to reach out to her...you knew that!" Mary gave sharply.

"But you didn't! You didn't because you didn't want to upset your parents. Which, really Mary, I understand, but I also understand and respect the bond between sisters. Sybil needed you and you detached!"

"Well I'm here now!"

"Well it's too late!" No one in the room, not even Cora, had ever heard such volume from Martha. Their shock kept them from being surprised when her tone quickly changed. "Now! Let's go uptown for lunch. There's this new French place I've been wanting to try…"

They played her game because they were left with no other choice. Throughout lunch they caught up, talked politics and the weather, and even managed laughter. When they returned, however, Martha stole away to make a phone call to her personal assistant.

"Anna, listen to me," Martha continued, "I need you to…" She thought of everything: of lies and hotels and anything that could possibly diffuse this situation, even temporarily. "Just make sure that when Steven picks Sybil and Tom up, he acts casual." Somehow this was not her original plan but it was what her lips delivered.

"Alright, so you want him to act as he always does? Silent...expressionless?"

"That'll do. I...this isn't going to end well but she's going to hate me if I send her away. I'd only be doing what they did and Sybil hates to be protected from the world. That's not fair to her and I won't do that to Isla and Tom either. At least this way she can make a decision. And if she wants them gone then that's it. This is still her home for the next couple months."

"Do you think she'll ask for that?" Anna inquired. "I mean, really…"

"No. Probably not."

"Alright. So their flight gets in at eleven. They should be to your end of the city by twelve-thirty. Is that acceptable?"

Martha released a heavy sigh. "It's going to have to be…"

After hanging up the phone Martha took a moment to herself. She rested on the nearby dresser - it was Isla's and just beside it was the child's crib. She sighed out and approached the door but was slow to open it. Once she was out in the hallway, she reacted differently, moving quickly to latch the wood in its frame, an easy task when she saw Mary and Edith quickly approach. Their proximity had Martha reaching behind herself to keep a strong hand on the brass knob.

Edith's forehead creased. "What's that?"

"What?"

"That door. That room."

"God, you children are nosey…"

Mary ran a hand over her swollen stomach. "We're hardly children."

Martha walked away, leaving her granddaughters no other option but to follow. "You act like children…"

"Gran, please! Just tell us where she is and—"

"She needed you!" Martha seethed. "She needed you and you pushed her away! Wherever she is, don't be surprised if she's not happy to see you. She's managed many years without a family and I wouldn't be surprised if she sees you and wants to continue on her own."

That was exactly what had happened, or at least that appeared to be the case. After scanning the room and accepting that she, Tom, and Isla were not as alone as they had always been, Sybil quickly retreated. First her mind shut down, causing her to blink straight ahead. Then she removed Isla from her hip and handed the child to her father. While Sybil moved quickly toward her bedroom, Tom repositioned his daughter, even softening when he noticed how easy it was for her to play with his own gold chain while he too stood motionless, unsure of what to do. Martha dropped her head down into her hands and Cora, seeing this strange man holding who she could only assume was her granddaughter, turned away from the situation completely. It seemed neither woman would ever tire of retreating from the uncomfortable.

Tom could only smile. Sybil had been strong for him for so long and now it was his turn. "Hi," he gave, all with a small laugh and an emphasis, perhaps subconsciously, on his Irish-drawl. It was this that had Robert lifting his head, finally acknowledging the stranger.

Martha approached Tom quickly, the two reducing themselves to a whisper so they would not be heard. "Well this hardly seems fair," Tom jested.

Martha nodded. "It's not. I...I didn't know they were coming and—"

"Well they did and they're here and Sybil's not happy so…"

"I can ask them to go…"

Tom paused to study Martha's features. "Can you honestly do that?"

Martha paused too. "Well I think so. It's my home."

"They're your family."

"Yes and so are you and Sybil."

The statement warmed Tom, especially as Isla pressed her cheek to his chest, ready for a nap after their somewhat turbulent cross-atlantic flight. "This isn't my battle to fight. If she wants to confront it then I will absolutely support her in that but I don't know if it's fair to throw me to the wolves like this…"

"I don't think that was her intention."

"Of course not," Tom agreed. "But she did and now I'm going to go make sure she's okay and I can't promise I'll be returning any time soon."

"If she—"

In a way that only he could manage, a way that he had most likely learned from Sybil, Tom walked away. He did so delicately, avoiding eye contact with Sybil's family so as to not look rude. She was his priority now and he hoped he hadn't given her so much time she was already beginning to shut down.

This was not the case. Upon entering their room he found she was standing before the mirror in the bathroom, brushing her hair to show just how little she was affected by the situation. To Tom, it told the opposite story. He leaned on the doorjamb as he took her in. Isla was still working to fall asleep against his chest and he felt her breathing slow down against the skin of his neck.

"Syb…"

She turned to him silently. "Yeah?"

He smiled. "Love…"

"I'm fine," she shrugged, before turning off the light and leaving the room.

Tom, left in darkness, followed. Isla seemed to be calm enough for him to put the child in her crib. Without her, he went immediately for Sybil. She was at their dresser now, ready to open a drawer and grab for a different shirt. If Isla slept and if Sybil's family wasn't out in the room behind the nearest wall, both would most likely be ridding themselves of clothing to share a hot shower.

"Syb, love…"

She broke down, crying immediately and moving her hands to conceal this fact. All of her was red, her cheeks especially, and when she felt she could no longer hide behind her palms she reached out for Tom and wrapped her hands so strongly around his neck it only made sense for her to bury her face into his chest. "I guess it was stupid but I really thought I'd never see them again."

Tom placed a strong kiss to the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Sybil…"

"I hate them…"

Tom paused, wondering if he should lie to her or challenge her. The former was never a choice and the latter always came too easily for the both of them. "No you don't…"

"I want to," she assured. "This isn't fair!"

The fact that Sybil had yet to blame her grandmother had Tom surprised. He knew it was not too far off and when Sybil removed her head from his chest and wiped at her eyes, it seemed a new wave of realism hit her. "Maybe we should get a hotel, or—"

"Your grandmother said she'd put them out…"

"I don't want to see them but that hardly seems fair."

"No, I guess it's not. But I don't think this was her idea. She seems just as uncomfortable as we are."

"We're all uncomfortable...even they are," Sybil reasoned. "I don't know why they're here."

"This may seem obvious but I think they genuinely want to see you."

Sybil looked to him. For a moment she looked hurt but the longer Tom stared the easier it was for him to see she was searching his observation for a deeper meaning, always doing her best to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I don't think that's obvious. And genuine or not, it's a bit too late."

"Too late?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"Do you want my honest opinion? I mean, do you really want to get into this?"

"We're already into this," Sybil disregarded. "Whatever this is," she added, all in whisper.

Tom sighed out. "Yes, it surprises me. You have this ridiculous capacity for forgiveness."

"Do I?"

"Well don't you?" Tom countered. "You forgave me."

"I had nothing to forgive you for, Tom."

Tom chuckled and took a step toward her once more. "I was dangerous and you liked me anyway."

It was Sybil's turn to laugh. "You were hardly dangerous."

"Well I was about to do some pretty stupid shite and you didn't judge me for it. And then I actually did do some pretty stupid shite and you forgave me for leaving you and Isla alone all those months."

"You didn't have much of a choice in either of those scenarios, Tom. That wasn't forgiveness. It was acceptance."

"Then you helped me to forgive myself," he said quickly, and without much emotion. It was clear he was irritated by his inability to concoct a coherent sentence.

"Perhaps," Sybil gave, swallowing. "So what do we do?"

"We?"

Sybil smirked. "Do you honestly think I'm going to face their wrath alone?"

"That's comforting," Tom quipped with a small eye-roll.

She went to him once more, this time wrapping her arms around his waist to show her true intentions. "I don't think I can do this alone. Is that better?"

Tom pressed a kiss to her nose. Her eyelids fluttered shut at the sensation. "I love you."

Sybil smirked. "I love you too. But that's hardly an answer."

"They're not going to like me," Tom exhaled heavily. "I've accepted that so as long as you're ready to face that then sure, I'll do whatever you need."

"There's nothing to face, really. This is my life and I like my life and I don't regret leaving behind a life where that wasn't the case. I let their opinions control me for so long and when I finally escaped that I somehow felt as if I couldn't live without that validation. Now I can barely conceive how that was even possible."

~!~

It was with Tom's hand gripping her own that Sybil emerged out of her bedroom and into the rest of the house. An empty hallway with mostly shut doors greeted them where at the end stood the living room, all basked in light that they'd soon be deprived of as the afternoon settled in.

"Are we looking for them? Is this a confrontation?" Tom asked.

Sybil gave him an amused smirk. It was incredible to believe this man she loved so deeply was once a scared little boy, ready to fight because it was easier than facing some sad, inconvenient truths. "Hardly a confrontation...though I wouldn't be opposed to one...but I'm certainly not going to start it," she promised.

Tom smiled too. "Food then?"

"Yes please."

Somehow the pair managed to make it to the kitchen without running into another soul. Greeting the white tiled room, Anna stood plating the meal that had just been prepared by Martha's chef. They knew what this meant, or at least Sybil did, and when she instructed Tom to grab a beverage, he realized she had plans to eat elsewhere. Sunday meals were reserved for the large dining room table in the middle of Martha's penthouse flat. It was clear to Tom now, upon seeing two of Sybil's family members at the table, that this was not the case had they all been back in England — if Sybil had never left and the life she was living was one where he (or their daughter) did not exist.

The man and the woman stared, but neither said anything. They'd faced similar gawking in Dublin, only then they carried Isla with them, and the glaring was short-lived. As Sybil and Tom sat down and unfolded their napkins, it continued.

"You can say hello," Sybil commented, seemingly to no one in particular.

"Can we?" The blonde asked.

Sybil swallowed the bite of food she'd just gotten off her fork. "That's what you're here for, isn't it?"

"I didn't...we weren't supposed to stay this long," she tried to explain.

It was this that had Sybil snapping her head in her sister's direction. "So you didn't want to see me?"

"I didn't know it was an option. Gran must have said something to Mum and then Mum insisted we stay. We didn't know you were here," she reasoned.

Meanwhile, the man sitting at the table continued to read his paper. Tom spent the time feeling like an outsider, wondering if all of this would be easier if he had introduced himself earlier. Did they care though? All of them, every single one, failed to even acknowledge his presence. He was sure if Sybil was not seated beside him that neither the man nor the woman would have looked up when he entered.

"It's been an option for three years," Sybil gave in return. "It was an option when I left and every time I wrote a letter—"

"We didn't see the letters," the blonde assured.

"I didn't know that was necessary for you to send your own."

"We didn't know where you were…"

"Yes, you did. I was here—"

"Were you?" Finally, Tom was acknowledged. The blonde looked his way, even going as far as to give him a small, sympathetic smile.

Sybil looked to Tom too. Like her sister, she couldn't help but smile, or at least she would have done such a thing if she weren't so frustrated with the conversation at hand. "We're honestly arguing semantics, Edith!"

Tom smiled; he was happy to have a name. Then, like a child trying to do well on a test, he silently recounted all he knew about her: middle sister, works in public relations, meek but mouthy when provoked.

Sybil continued: "The point is that I did write and you had the chance to write back but you didn't. It doesn't matter where I was or who I was with because I used Gran as my return address. There's no excuse. I expected this from Mary, but I thought you'd at least attempt to reach out...even if no one else knew."

Another woman appeared: Mary, Tom assumed, repeating her name silently in his head. "What am I being accused of now?" she asked as she moved toward the table. As if gravity were her only motivator she kept her chin high and a hand pressed to her swollen stomach as the other man at the table helped her pull out her chair so she could sit beside him.

Her presence, previously only called upon by Sybil, now had the youngest Crawley girl sitting back. It seemed she was intimidated, or perhaps ashamed, to have disregarded Mary's detachment. Then again, Tom knew based on several brief things Sybil had said that Sybil was closest with Mary and was maybe just the most offended that the slim, raven-haired girl found it so easy to write her sister off. Sybil felt betrayed and even that was not a big enough excuse for her to slander her eldest sister's name.

"Not accused," Sybil tried, now with more composure. "You're stubborn and I expected you to ignore me—"

"I was hurt," Mary said calmly. It seemed that everyone was surprised by her admission.

"Yeah, me too," Sybil said. Tom wondered if the rest of them noticed how her voice cracked, signaling she was ready to cry.

Edith sat back now. Tom couldn't quite tell if she was relieved to have the attention off of her or annoyed that Mary had somehow gained ownership of the conversation. He recounted how Sybil had made comments regarding the feuding between her sisters and how she was never amused by it, only saddened by the missed opportunity for both women to be friends. Both had so much to offer the world, she once said, always speaking so fondly of these same people she now wished she could hate.

Just when the silence settled back in, Mary spoke again, bringing everyone back into the moment. "Who are you?"

Tom paused. He looked up but it took several moments to realize she was talking to him. "Pardon?"

Mary smirked, amused by his inattention. "Who are you?" she tried again, this time more slowly.

"Tom."

"Alright, Tom," she repeated in a somewhat mocking tone, "you are?"

"My boyfriend."

"I don't know whether to be relieved or sad to know you're not married," Edith admitted honestly. Based on a glance the two sisters gave one another, it looked as if Mary agreed.

"Well I don't think that's an opinion you're allowed to have," Sybil commented.

Tom sat up straighter, remembering why it was he was at Sybil's side - surely it was for more than silent moral support. "Well sure they are. They have every right. And I have every right to disregard their opinions as irrelevant."

Mary scoffed, nearly choking on her food. "That's hardly polite."

Tom did not waiver. "You've got quite the moral compass then."

"I assume that child is yours?"

"Aye," Tom gave, sitting back now to push at his food with his fork. "Is that child his?" Tom pointed.

It took everything in Mary not to glare at Tom. "Yes, because Matthew and I are married and—"

"You play by the rules. Got it."

"I'm sorry...you're right I do have morals."

"You don't have morals." Tom paused. "Well maybe you do. But I think the larger point is that you have a reputation to keep up with."

"You don't know me…"

Tom nodded. "And you don't know me either. Funny how that works."

"You're not doing much to win us over."

"I didn't know that was necessary. I assume you're all leaving soon. I'll go back to living my life as it once was...without any of you in it."

"It's not going to be like that anymore. We want Sybil back—"

"Is she a hostage?"

"You're not letting her talk, so I'd say—"

"Maybe I have nothing to say to you," Sybil interjected, emphasized by a shrug. She looked to Mary, her eyes glossed over with tears. "I didn't have a choice—"

"In leaving?" Edith asked incredulously. "Of course you did!"

Sybil sighed out, already exhausted by how defeated this was all making her feel. "I didn't have a choice," she repeated, "in being cut out from your lives. When I left that was not my intention but that's how the rest of you wanted it to be and you can say that isn't true but it is...it's true for me. So I coped and I moved on because, again, I had no choice. Then in accepting all of that, I finally began to make my own choices. Now you're back and you don't approve and I'm reminded of why I left in the first place."

"Sybil, Mama and Papa gave you a world of choices…"

"Choices I did not want!" she said, not yelling but with a volume that was suppressed through gritted teeth. "I didn't want marriage, I wanted medical school. It seemed the only thing I wanted was something they refused to give me."

"You didn't put up much of a fight…" Mary tried.

"Of course I did! I stopped going to the parties and the functions. I spent all of my time at school and I turned down all of Papa's offers for me to date any of the men he works with. He and Mama cared far more about that than what universities I wanted to attend. I wanted my own life…"

Mary's glare turned cold. "Are you saying I don't have my own life? That Edith," she nodded, "doesn't have her own life?"

"No I'm just saying that the lives you two wanted were lives that happened to work with what Mama and Papa wanted. You were lucky. They wouldn't even listen to my side of things so I left."

Tom looked to her, finding her thigh under the table and caressing her skin with his thumb. There was an important detail she left out, but he was thankful for that; it was the only thing about Sybil he wished to forget.

"Alright then," Mary bit back. "Is this the life you wanted then? Unmarried and with a child?"

"Yes because you've left out several important details. One being that I finally am in medical school and I'm doing quite well. I have a man who loves me and I don't need a piece of paper to prove that. I have a beautiful daughter...you have a beautiful niece."

"What's her name?" Edith asked softly.

Sybil couldn't suppress her smile. "Isla Grace."

"Crawley?"

"No," Sybil laughed off, mostly in amusement. She was fanciful to think that someday they'd also see it as a ridiculous question. "Branson."

"You didn't want your daughter to share your last name?"

"No, because it won't be my last name forever. When the time's right, we will have the same last name."

"So there's a wedding then?"

Again, Sybil gave an entertained grin. "I mean, sure. I assume there will be. Someday."

"What school are you attending?" It was the first words spoken by the blonde man at the table and Tom couldn't help but to respect him for it. He sat back, waiting, enjoying how her husband's words had calmed Mary down, nearly changing her existence completely. He smirked; he knew that feeling all too well.

"Columbia," Sybil beamed.

"That's a difficult school to get into. Bravo!"

Sybil smiled. "Thank you. And how's the practice?"

"Growing," he admitted. Like her, he was also hesitant to admit to his accomplishments. "I'm busy trying to get everything done before this baby arrives…"

"Which is when?"

"A few months. June, actually."

"Do you have a name picked out?"

"We do," Matthew gave, turning to Mary as if to ask for permission to share.

"George," she gave simply.

"Dapper," Sybil responded. "Well I'm sure he'll be very loved…" She spoke honestly but in doing so, the pain behind her acknowledgement felt all the more real. The tears she'd been holding back overcame her and immediately cascaded down her cheeks. She wiped them away, one then several more, as she pushed away from the table and headed for the door. Tom could only watch her go, once again left in a room with a family Sybil once called her own.

~!~

On the way back to her room, Sybil nearly collided with her grandmother. She was far too busy wiping at her cheeks, ridding them of their moisture with flat palms pressed heavily against them. She felt much like a child, young in a way she hadn't for quite some time. She was a mother and soon, as she had just revealed, she'd be a wife. In leaving London she grew up and though she often questioned if she'd ever return to the city, she never guessed she'd be back to feeling this immature. Even so, the tears would not cease.

"Sybil? Darling…" Martha began, working to envelop her granddaughter.

Sybil accepted her comfort but only momentarily. As she detached from her grandmother she wished Isla would have begun to cry, making her exit a planned one. Her mind was elsewhere but her physical presence was insisted upon.

"Sybil…"

"Did you know?"

Martha's features softened in search of an answer. "Know what, dear?"

"That they'd be here! I mean, you knew we were coming home! We were gone a full two weeks, Gran! Could they have not come sooner?"

"I didn't invite them, Sybil!"

"You…" she paused. "Wait, you didn't?"

"No! And if I had, I'd be smarter than to allow them to stay this long."

"But you did…"

"I did and I don't regret it. They may upset me but they are my family just as you are. I don't have to like them as much as I like you but I think it'd be highly unfair of me to refuse to open my home to my daughter, don't you?"

"I just wish...we could have gone somewhere else."

"Could you have? I know how much those airline tickets cost you, Sybil. And I know what Tom makes each month and I know, despite all of your hard work, how little you're saving as it is. Where would you have gone?"

"Somewhere," she reasoned with a shrug. "Anywhere. They're insufferable…"

Martha pursed her lips into a frown. "I know, my girl, but I genuinely think they want to help." Sybil shot her grandmother an icy glare. "They want to make things right. But they'll do it in their own way...on their own terms."

"That's how they've always done things. That's why I left. They could live that life but I couldn't. My terms were not their terms. They couldn't even believe I'd have such lofty goals!"

"Yes, darling, but you did and you do. Listen...growing up means forgiving your parents. And I'd be saying this if things weren't as they are now. You have to forgive them. You're an adult now and you've created a life you're proud of. You, like many other little girls, have survived. Live in your version of the now and forgive them. You can't give yourself to Tom and Isla if you don't and I'd say they both deserve your full attention."

Sybil nodded. "You're right," she spoke softly.

"Your father and mother may not deserve it and they may say stupid things and not approve but accept it for what it is. At the end of the day you know your truth and that's the truth you're going to live. They're here now but they won't be here forever...do you understand?"

"We...Tom and I might go back to Ireland...we may not be here forever either."

Martha piqued an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I don't know...it's silly. It was just something we discussed. It came up a lot, actually. That's his home and he's connected to Dublin in a way I've never been connected to any place before. I want Isla to understand the importance of home and I think she may be able to find it there."

"Do you?"

Sybil paused. Her forehead creased in question. "I do…"

"Did you think moving there was a good idea before your parents were here?"

"I—"

"You can't always run away to Ireland, Sybil. If that's what you want to do then I will support you. I will even come visit you and tolerate the rain to see Isla, but I don't believe that's what you want to do and I don't know if that's what is best for you and Tom. That's a step backward, no?"

"I don't...maybe," she sighed out. "I don't know, Gran. I'm just tired and we honestly had a really lovely time and it was all a bit intense being back there again and this wasn't the way I wanted to come home."

"Home. You see, this is where your life is now. If your mother and father have pushed their way in, stand your ground. If you're proud of the life you've living then don't let them make you feel otherwise. It's as easy as that."

Sybil gave her grandmother an exaggerated frown, nearly causing Martha to laugh. "It is not even kind of as easy as that."

"No? Well with that attitude you're setting yourself up for failure…" They were her parting words. She gave her granddaughter a light swat on her bottom, causing Sybil to nearly jump up, propelling her toward her bedroom. Inside she quickly shut her door, immediately gliding toward Isla to pick the child up. Already she was standing, her fingers in her mouth and a smile so bright Sybil couldn't help but to forget any sadness she was previously experiencing.

"There's my girl," she sang, scooping her daughter up in her arms. "Did you have a good nap?" she asked. As she did, she smoothed Isla's hair back and pressed several kisses to her head. Together she rocked her, walking toward the window to show Isla the city.

This was a common event each day. Either Sybil or Tom would stand with the child by the window, pointing out addresses as if they were memories and not simple skyscrapers. There was the walk they used to take each morning in the park and the subway station where they met Tom each night when he got off of work. There was the restaurant uptown they took Tom for his twenty-fifth birthday. Sybil's favorite baby boutique was on the West Side and she told Isla all the times she spent money there, eventually earning disappointed but sympathetic glares from Tom. Usually these places gave Sybil a chance to tell her daughter just how loved she was, all because Sybil couldn't help but to be in love with the girl's father.

A knock sounded at the door and for whatever reason, perhaps the sunset or the white noise coming from Eighth Avenue, Sybil called out a soft "come in". The visitor entered but it was not Tom or even Martha. It also wasn't Mary or Edith there to apologize. Instead it was Sybil's own mother, her eyes wide as she approached the pair.

The two had barely said a word to one another but Cora couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch the child's back. Isla turned her head so she was facing her grandmother, but she merely blinked, not giving the woman a smile.

"She's beautiful…"

"She is," Sybil accepted. Despite Martha's words and how much she agreed with them, Sybil couldn't help but to feel uneasy with her mother this close. Tom's things littered this room, evidence of their shared life on every bare surface. This room was private, concealing secrets a mother couldn't possibly understand and Sybil didn't have the time to give Cora the chance to try.

"Isla, right?"

"Mhm," she nodded. "It's Scottish, actually. Not Irish," she explained curtly.

"He's Irish, correct?"

"Tom? My boyfriend?" she asked in a tone that warned more than it clarified. "Yes, Mama, he's Irish."

"He's...I mean, I assume but I don't know, so...he's her father?"

Sybil's eyes turned to slits as she worked to figure her mother out. Cora was doing her best to remain diplomatic but Sybil couldn't help but to take offense. "Yes, mother, he's her father. Christ!"

"Well I don't know, Sybil! What if he wasn't and I assumed? You'd be upset then too!"

"I'm upset because you shouldn't have to ask these questions! You should know!"

"How should I know, Sybil? You disappeared!"

"And you let me!" she yelled back.

As she caught her breath the silence worked to underline just how loud she had been. It scared her and she pressed a kiss to Isla's temple before putting the child down in her nearby playpen. With her hands on her hips she approached her mother once more. "I wrote to you. Every day. Then every week. Then every other week…"

"Your father didn't—"

"I don't care!" she seethed. "What about you, Mum? If you wanted to write me, why didn't you?"

Cora looked down. "There's no excuse, Sybil. You're right. But in the moment I was angry and—"

"I was angry too. I freaked out and I left and it may not have been right but I was the child. I make mistakes and that's supposed to be okay because I'm the child. You're my mother. You were the adult and you blamed me...you just let me go. You didn't ask why. You didn't try to get me back. You just let go."

"Sybil…"

"I don't have anything more to say to you. I'm sorry, but I really don't. You're wrong. That's it. I'm sorry I hurt you but that's all I can apologize for."

"We…"

Behind them the door opened, revealing a tired-looking Tom. He made eye contact with both women but when he saw just how defeated Sybil looked, he shut the door behind him and stood off to the side, silently existing in support while he grabbed for Isla from the floor. Like Sybil had earlier, he rocked the child on his hip, all the while listening to the conversation Sybil was having with her mother. As he did, he wondered if it would have ended differently had he not walked in.

"We...your father and I," Cora corrected, "want to have dinner with you and Tom tonight."

"We have Isla. We can't," she responded brashly.

"Your grandmother already agreed to take her and I know Mary and Matthew would love to have the practice."

"None of Mary's friends have children? Does anyone in that town have sex?"

Cora paused, doing her best to bite her tongue. "I know you're doing your best to shock me, Sybil. I'm not saying what I did was right and we can discuss that but I'm telling you right now that I do not plan to budge. It's taken me over a year to get your father here and I think he's finally coming around. The baby hasn't helped to ease him into the situation though...we expected that you had a boyfriend we just didn't know to what extent. Anyway, we just want a night alone to discuss everything."

"I don't need to prove my life to you. I like where I am and—"

"And I'm so happy for you. Genuinely. I want to hear all about it. I'm not asking you to do any of that I just want us all to talk. Your father and I may have things to say to you that may surprise you."

Sybil looked off to the side. "I doubt it," she whispered. Tom, still doing his best to pretend he was focused solely on Isla, let out a breathy laugh.

"Your grandmother has asked Paolo to prepare something here. Your father wanted to go out but I don't think that's best. I want you to be able to say what you have to say and, knowing you, I know that a public place may not be the best venue for that."

Even Sybil had to smirk. "So your grandmother and Mary will watch Isla up here and we can have dinner downstairs. We'll talk for as little or as long as you'd like and if you get uncomfortable then you're more than welcome to leave. But I'm asking that you at least give us a chance to spend time together. If you walk into this expecting to hate it, you will and—"

"You and Gran are more alike than you think," Sybil observed.

Cora stopped, accessing her daughter's claim. In an attempt to show her daughter the respect she expected to receive later that night she simply nodded. "Perhaps."

Sybil smirked and turned to Tom. "What do you think?"

Tom pretended to be startled when she addressed him. "Huh?"

She saw right through his acting and let out a raspy chuckle. "Dinner. With my parents."

"Yeah...yeah, whatever you want to do, love."

Sybil smiled and turned back to her mother. "Alright," she sighed. "We'll go."

~!~

"What do I wear to this thing?" Tom called out over his shoulder.

He was studying his section of the walk-in closet, that of which was barely full. In all honesty, Sybil didn't take up that much room either. He knew (because he asked) that this was not always the case. Not too long ago Sybil had subscribed to the lavish lifestyle he could only tell her parents were accustomed too. She was not too prideful to admit that she missed some of it. The vacations, she commented, were nice and the lack of worry over things like school, bills, and children. All too quickly though she'd remind Tom that despite all of the nonsense, she loved their life together. He believed her because he knew how happy she had made him and he felt her agree with this sentiment every time the two even occupied the same space.

Sybil popped her head into the room. She smiled at his antics but loved the moment all the more because he was naked from the waist up. Isla was already downstairs with Mary and Matthew, so Sybil took advantage of their privacy to step into him and hug him from behind. He smiled too, leaning back into her to show he approved of her move.

"You're not helping," he tried.

Sybil pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade. "Let's cancel. This will be much more fun."

Tom raised his eyebrows, turning to face her as he did so, so she could also be in his grasp. "This?"

"Us," she said softly.

"I...I want to talk to your parents."

Sybil's forehead creased. "You do?"

"You talked to my mum…"

"I knew your mum before all of this."

"By this do you mean us again?"

"Yes," Sybil smirked with pursed lips. "Us and Isla and our life together as a family."

"Well she didn't know I had a daughter. This isn't much different."

"Yeah but she knew we were together…"

"I don't know," Tom shrugged. Sybil could tell he was doing his best to avoid an argument so she held back too. "I'd just like to prove to them I'm not—"

"You don't have anything to prove to them, Tom."

"Well I'd hope not. I mean, you're their daughter and they should trust that you have enough sense to choose to love a good man but—"

"I didn't choose to love you, Tom. It just happened...quickly and deeply. But you are a good man and I don't care if they agree with that. It's not really up for debate, love."

"But you wanted my mum to like you—"

"I'm sorry I keep cutting you off but you're talking nonsense," Sybil admits honestly. "I wanted your mum to like me because she likes you—"

"Your parents like you too, Sybil. They—"

"Love me? Do they?"

Tom sighed and turned back to his things, finally setting on a simply blue button-up that he hastily pulled off the hanger causing the wood to swing back and forth in its wake. "I don't want to get into it, Sybil. I'm just saying that I'm not completely dreading this and I'm going to try to be civil and I think you should be too. If we go into this ready to defend, we won't be helping the situation...then it'll be a wasted night that could have been spent with my daughter."

"Or me? In bed?"

Tom smiled. He turned off the light behind Sybil and walked back into their room. She followed and was not angry at his disregard because she knew it was a symbolic wave of a white flag. There was silence and the moment was gone. Sybil disappeared and when she came back she wore a dress Tom had yet to see her in.

"Is that new?"

"No. I...I've had it and I wanted to wear it in Ireland but it didn't feel right."

"Is it expensive?"

"It was. But we bought it on sale...it doesn't matter," Sybil added quickly. "I just mean that I didn't really need to wear it. My parents are the type of people you need to impress with those things. Your mum and Katie Grace are not...and that was nice. It was really nice, actually."

"Well I can't promise I'm going to impress them," Tom admitted honestly. "But like I said, I'll do my best to make this as easy as possible for you."

"For me?"

"For us," he said, causing both of them to smile before sharing a sweet, soft kiss.

~!~

Heading downstairs, Sybil and Tom stood side by side. They took each step together and when they reached the bottom, Tom felt Sybil's resistance. In an effort to support her, he pressed his hand to her back. Sybil assumed he was trying to tickle her and immediately shied away from his hands. The two shared a laugh as they clumsily descended the stairs. It was in this manner that they presented themselves to Sybil's parents and in realizing they were not alone, the smiles they wore faded and the two stiffened like children preparing themselves for a reprimand.

Lost in muted conversation, Cora and Robert looked to the pair. In doing their best to be calm they attempted to adopt the smiles Sybil and her boyfriend wore. It was a feeble attempt. There was nothing but silence hanging in the already uncomfortable air as the four of them sat down.

It was an awkward shuffling at first. A member of Martha's wait staff appeared to prepare cocktails as everyone unfolded their napkins and put them on their laps. Sybil looked across the table to Tom, already wishing the two weren't so far apart. Why it was her parents decided to sit at the head of the table, she was unsure. It actually did make her feel very small, like a teenager bringing her first boyfriend home. Sybil was certainly not a teenager but Tom technically was her first boyfriend. Even so, she didn't deserve the way both her mother and father stared at Tom as if to ask if he was capable of existing in this world — their world.

Tom ignored them. Even after living with Martha for over a year this was new to him. They'd never had a dinner like this and Tom could even tell that Sybil was uncomfortable, though he hoped that was not behavior he was encouraging. He was nervous but not because the atmosphere was new. Tom couldn't shake the way he had great disdain for Sybil's parents, especially her father, while at the same time wishing to impress the couple.

"Sybil, we—" Robert stopped himself. He let out a nervous chuckle and wiped at his lips before continuing. "I'm...I'm sorry this is so awkward but I guess it's going to be for awhile. I...I don't know what to say."

Sybil snapped her head in her father's direction. "Then why did you come?"

"I wanted to see you," Robert revealed as if the answer were an easy one. "We," he emphasized, now pointing at Cora, "wanted to see you."

"Why now?"

Tom could only watch all of this. He was here to support Sybil and if that meant existing with a tight-lipped mouth, he'd do just that. It was easy now when Sybil seemed to sure of herself. What he worried about was the vulnerabilities she'd face and how he'd have no other option but to stick up for her when she was unable to stick up for herself.

"We'd…"

Cora interrupted her husband. "We'd heard you were in New York and I wanted to come see your grandmother. She didn't tell us you were here, of course—"

"Of course," Sybil repeated condescendingly.

"I've...we've missed you, Sybil. I know that's difficult for you to understand but—"

"It's not difficult, actually," Sybil gave sweetly. Tom could tell that behind her small smile there were years of hurt. "I used to miss you both a lot."

Robert leaned forward. "Used to?"

"I got over it," she stated, shrugging. Tom looked away. Taking her in was like staring at the sun, knowing she gave him strength and that there was beauty in that but finding it was altogether too painful to sustain eye contact.

"Sybil, you can't…" Robert sighed out. "You can't write us off completely."

"Why?" she tried, now with her arms crossed over her chest. "You two wrote me off."

"We didn't…" Her father let out yet another nervous scoff. "We didn't write you off Sybil—"

"No, because you didn't write me at all!" She threw her hands up. As she settled down again she found herself thankful that her mother offered to hold this dinner here. She was already impatient and the night had just begun.

"Sybil…"

"Stop saying my name! It doesn't mean anything! You're not saying anything, you're just stalling time. Why? Because there's nothing to say! Nothing you could say could make any of this alright. I was ambushed coming home and now I'm being forced to confront all of this when none of this was my choice."

"You leaving was your choice," Robert reminded.

"I left because I had no choices, Dad."

"You had plenty of choices, Sybil," Cora assured. "We gave you everything you could have ever wanted."

"Did you? I told you I wanted to go to medical school and you laughed. During sixth form I wanted to go see all of these schools and you either decided work was more important or spent the time talking over me about parties and fundraisers."

"I don't remember laughing," Cora commented flatly.

"Well you did! Trust me! I remember...several times. I stopped bringing it up because I was sick of hearing it. But I still hear it now. I'm in med school now, Mum! I'm in med school and I still hear your stupid laughter…"

This bit of news had Robert perking up. "You're in medical school?"

"Yeah," Sybil gave softly. "Columbia. I got in all those years ago."

"You came here so you could come to Columbia?"

"No, I came here and now I'm going to Columbia. I reapplied and got in...again."

"You weren't...you weren't here this entire time?"

Sybil, who was sipping at her water, placed the crystal back on the table. "No. I wasn't here."

"Where...where were you?"

"With him, I presume?" Robert asked. He merely nodded toward Tom.

Sybil turned toward her father more fully. "His name is Tom and you're not allowed to presume anything. If we're going to have this talk, you're going to be respectful and you're going to call him by his name...because he has one," Sybil repeated.

Robert followed his daughter's orders — a first in their twenty-three year relationship. He turned toward Tom and sighed out. "And you're why she left?"

Tom, with eyes cast down at his empty plate, chuckled. "No. Though I can understand why you'd want to assume that. I guess that'd be easier…" It felt odd to address Sybil's father so simply. It was also uncomfortable because the two had not formally met. Tom knew only what Sybil told him and the interaction they were sharing now only bolstered her claims.

"It's easy for you to think that I'm just some dumb girl who left her home because a man came into her life?" Sybil let out a laugh in disbelief. "See? This is the bullshit I'm talking about…"

"Sybil!" Cora shrieked.

Tom could only smirk. He remembered the first time he heard Sybil cuss and how he could tell then it was a first for her. Now he encouraged the habit with her dirtiest mouth coming out when he was inside of her and the two were hidden from the world underneath a thin bedsheet. Maybe this was why he wanted to kiss her now.

"Well he's not."

"Then you two met…" Cora's question trailed off.

Sybil rolled her eyes, wondering if it was in fact a question or if her mother was just fishing for any new direction to steer this conversation in. "Do you care?"

"Sybil, please…" Robert gritted, his hand now a clenched fist, strong against the table.

"Well Tom," she emphasized, "and I met in Ireland."

"Why were you in Ireland?"

"Sybil, it's not safe there…" Cora warned.

It was this that had Tom, who was doing his best to bite his tongue, letting out a breathy chuckle. Though he didn't care what Sybil's mother or father thought of his behavior, he still found himself moving to cover his mouth, an action that was forgotten when Sybil looked to him and began to grin.

"It's plenty safe," Sybil assured. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Sybil, they're not kind to us."

"They? They're people, Dad! Just like you and me. And they're plenty kind! Far kinder than my own family was…"

"Tuh…" It was merely a sound as Cora thought of a way to delicately assemble her words. "Tom, what did you do there?"

"Uh, I was born there," he said simply. "Went to school…" His thoughts left him as he looked to Sybil and thought of how to finish that sentence.

She sat forward in aid. "Tom's a journalist," she stated.

Sybil did so believing that was the more important information anyway; it was not who they once were but who they wished to be now. Sybil hoped he was not offended that she glossed over his past. She wasn't ashamed, but it seemed she wanted to finish this dinner as quickly as she could and elaboration was not in their favor if that was to be achieved.

"What do you write?"

"Politics," Tom said simply. It was the truth, or at least the current truth. It was also what he would have done back in Dublin had he not been consumed by other things.

"Sybil...what—"

"I went to Trinity, Mum," Sybil stated in exasperation. "Started med school and—"

"When did you meet Tom?"

"There? I don't know!" she gave. "Why does it matter? Why does any of this matter? You didn't care before so why do you care now?"

"We care because you've brought a child into this world, Sybil!" Robert roared. "You're a completely different girl now and we have a granddaughter—"

"You don't have anything," she spat. "I'm not a little girl anymore and I won't be talked down to like this. I am a mother and soon I'll be a wife and—"

"You two are not married?" Cora shrieked.

"Nope! Not married, Mum!"

"Sybil, how—"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she deadpanned, "is that disappointing? Bet you don't want to claim me as yours now…"

"Sybil, that is enough!" Robert admonished.

Cora stepped in. "Sybil, why didn't you want to be married?"

"I want to be married, Mum. I just don't care to do it now."

"Is the baby not Tom's then?" Robert asked. His words twisted the knife Cora had poked her daughter with only an hour prior.

Sybil's eyes bulged and her face turned scarlet. She was moment away from tossing her napkin down but Tom watched her, his eyes practically pinning her body to her seat. He wanted her to keep her composure; he was not ready to let her parents win.

"How can you even say that?" she spat. "Why is that so easy for everyone to assume?" Her eyes were now coated in moisture. This time she did throw down her napkin but before she could push off from the table, her father's words called her back.

"Well how are we supposed to know these things? He's not on the birth certificate!"

"Excuse me?" she seethed. Even Cora looked shocked.

"Well he's not!"

"How do you even know that?" Sybil yelled.

"Your mother...well I made a few phone calls. I wanted to see where you were."

"And you found Isla's birth certificate?"

"Eventually, yes," Robert confirmed.

"Well Tom is her father and—"

"Then where were you?" Robert repeated. When he looked to Tom it was the first time the men had made eye contact.

"In Ireland," Tom stated simply.

"You were having a child and you didn't care to be there for it?"

"He didn't know!" Sybil shouted. Somehow such an embarrassing thing would be less shameful to her parents than the truth — the truth that came next, this time from Tom and all without apology.

"I was in prison, actually," he stated rather cockily. Sybil's breath hitched at the sound and she watched as he sipped at his water and put the glass back down on the table. She'd only seen him in this state one other time; when the world he lived in insulted Sybil and his arrogance perked to ensure that would not continue to happen. But this was her world now and for whatever reason he felt just as protective.

"Excuse me?" Robert bellowed.

"Oh yeah. Spent a whole year there." His accent was unbelievably thick.

"You—"

"Sybil, did you know this?"

"Don't be daft, Mum! Of course I knew!"

"What did you do?"

"Dad! Enough!" Sybil shouted. "I'm done with this conversation!"

"Well we're not," Cora stated rather calmly. "Tom, what did you—"

"Mum! Stop! It's not important! None of this is important!" She paused. The tears had arrived and with them she felt her chest growing tighter and tighter. She was sure that if she continued to exist in this moment her lungs would have no other choice but to give up completely.

"Yes, Sybil, it is! Our granddaughter—"

"She's not your granddaughter! You gave up that right!"

"What? Are you not our daughter anymore either?"

"I don't know! I didn't seem to be your daughter when I left! I wasn't your daughter when you didn't return my phone calls or read my letters. You're ashamed of things you don't understand. You don't get to claim Isla and write me off, Dad!"

"You will always be our daughter, Sybil," Cora assured. "We just don't understand any of this…"

"It's not your place to understand! It's my life and you made a choice not to be apart of it."

"Well we want to be apart of it now!"

"Do you?" she spat. "Well I don't know if I want you here. My life was pretty damn wonderful before you came along—"

"Before we came along you let some thug knock you up! You lived in Ireland, Sybil! Of all places!"

There was a single beat of silence. "You're deplorable," Sybil muttered.

The room grew quiet. All that could be heard was the way everyone attempted to catch their breath. The fact that Sybil had not yet ran for the door told Tom it was time for him to step in again. "We really are a terrible group of people, sir," he tried.

Robert looked to him again. "What are you saying?'

"Well I'm agreeing with you. That's what you think, right?"

"You don't know what I think…"

"Well I do know you worked for Maggie Thatcher."

"I still do work with Mrs. Thatcher, yes," Robert confirmed. There was a certain calm existing between the men and as Sybil and Cora's eyes ping-ponged between them, both found themselves unsettled by the air of it.

"Well she's a cunt," Tom stated simply.

Sybil's eyes grew wide and Tom, not even slightly apologetic for what he'd said, sat back in his chair.

"Sybil, who have you allowed to father your child?"

"A man I love," Sybil said strongly. "A good man who...she hasn't been kind, Dad. You know how I felt about her and Tom's had to live through all of it firsthand and—"

"Well they haven't been civilized," Robert said, as if it were an acceptable argument.

"Actually, sir," Tom tried again, "Two of the men you sent over to keep all of us in line tried to have a go at Sybil and my best friend intervened. Didn't end too well but I'd say if anyone's not civilized, it's them."

"Sybil, is this—"

"Yes, it's true!" Sybil shrieked. She just wanted all the noise to stop.

"One of them killed my best friend," Tom stated, just as confidently.

"Tom…" Sybil warned. She knew where this was going and her eyes warned for him to stop being it arrived there. "Please…"

"But it's okay," he continued anyway. "Because I beat the shit out of him and he's dead now. And that's why I was in prison and that's why I missed Isla's birth. But I don't regret any of it. Your people have taken far more from me and my people than we could ever hope to take from you."

"How can you say these things so calmly?" Cora quaked. She was nearly crying too.

"You get used to it," Tom shrugged. "I also don't care what either of you think of me. I'm sorry, but I don't. I wish I did but I just don't have the time for it. I don't care to put forth effort for people who treat Sybil the way that you have. You're being unfair and I think you casting her off is far worse than anything I could have done."

"Do you talk to your parents this way too, then?"

"Well my dad's dead," Tom said, still so stoically. "You killed him too."

Sybil dropped her head down behind her hand to shield her eyes. She thought she was crying, at least that's what her chest told her as it heaved and her face turned warm. But when she reached up to wipe at her cheeks she found they were dry. Her body was done crying tears for her parents and now, when she was more sad for Tom than for anything else, she felt empty. She had finally achieved a feeling she once misunderstood him for; Sybil felt numb.

"Does it make you happy to know you've made her cry?"

Tom waited, though it was a short-lived requirement. Sybil picked her head up and turned immediately to her father. "I am not crying for him! I'm crying for you!"

"Aren't you embarrassed?" Cora asked. Though Tom did not know, Sybil could tell how genuine her mother's concern was. Her parents did have feelings, they were just often misplaced, or poorly executed when directed properly.

"Yes! I'm embarrassed for you!" She tossed out. "This is insane because I'm trying to convince you of something you had made your mind up on long before you came here and you tricked me into coming and I just...I knew this dinner was a mistake. I just want to pack my things and go somewhere else and—"

"You can't keep hiding from everything, Sybil!" Cora tried.

"I'm not hiding from anything, Mum! I just...I coped. I learned to live without you two. I forgot you and Mary and Edith. I stopped caring. And now you're back and you're pretending you care but nothing has changed. You're far more capable of judgment than you ever were with love. You couldn't see that med school would make me happy and then I left and instead of stepping back and wondering what role you played in that you blamed me. I was the problem. And now you're back and apparently you want to make things better but all you're doing is criticizing me! You've disrespected Tom! You've disrespected Isla! You've done nothing but judge me and my life and the people in it. This is my family now. I'm sorry but I was doing well before you two got here. I was...I was happy," she shrugged, also laughing, even through her tears. "So if you'd excuse me, I'm not very hungry and I'd much rather spend the rest of the night with my daughter."

Sybil did not say his name, nor did she motion to Tom. Even so, he followed, but when she made it to the hallway leading their room, he was gone and Mary and Matthew sat quiet on the sofa in the nearby library, whispering amongst one another. They looked up when they saw her and Mary's face even fell, wondering what it was that could have her sister crying. Actually, she had a thousand guesses, all of which would go unconfirmed. Mary stood, but as she stepped in to Sybil, Sybil stepped back.

"Isla's asleep," Matthew stated flatly.

Sybil nodded and then disappeared.


Alright...before everyone gets their knickers in a twist let me just say that I've gone back and forth on posting this chapter for over a week now. I wondered if Tom's comments, while true in his mind, were too much but then I realized that was more my fear of what you, the reader, would think. In my opinion (you're certainly welcome to have your own and it is certainly fine if it is different) they're extremely true to character considering what Tom has experienced. That is where my opinion will stop because I just don't have the energy to get into it right now. So again, please have your own - I'd love to hear it.

And now I'm going to do my best to not take eighty four years to post the next chapter…

(Is anyone even still reading this?)

x. Elle