Starting Forever

A/N- This is an AU Sybil/Branson story, it'll start sometime during the first season, but it will not follow the storyline of the show. I hope you like it.

A/N 2: This will most likely be my last chapter for a while, because I'm moving house and I won't have internet access for 6 weeks. Sorry 3 It's set a while after the last chapters, so we're now in 1914.

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'Oh my,' Sybil's hand flies to her mouth before she can finish her thought, for a second she'd forgotten where she was, and that she's not meant to be reading the Irish Times. Her father looks up from his own newspaper, and she's certain that what she just read will be in his newspaper as well, but he hasn't mentioned it, so either he hasn't read it yet, he isn't concerned about it, or he doesn't feel as though his daughters are suitable people to talk to about it, especially at the breakfast table. The late June heat stifles her as she tries to hide the fact that she'd just spoken, however now both Mary and Edith are watching her.

'Darling what is it?' Mary asks with an air of concern in her voice. Sybil slides the paper further under the paper, part of her wants to tell her sister what she'd just read, but she knows what will happen, they'll all tell her not to concern herself with matters such as that. She gets to her feet and holds her hands behind her back.

'It's ever so hot in here.' Sybil replies by way of an excuse, 'I think I'll go for a walk.'

'If you wait a while I'll join you.' Edith offers.

'No!' Sybil answers a little too fast, and suddenly all eyes are on her again, 'That is I'd sooner go now, and I wouldn't be very good company today, I'm sure you'd be bored.' Sybil slips out of the room, leaving her confused family behind, as she heads out the front door of her grand home. Her pace quickens as she takes the gravel path round the side of the house, speeding quickly towards the one place she'll know she can talk freely.

Branson is working on the engine of the car when she arrives at the garage, but he hears the familiar sound of her footsteps, and stops what he's doing, casually wiping the oil from his hands onto a nearby rag.

'Tom have you seen this?' Sybil holds up the copy of the Irish Times.

'I haven't, usually I read it at breakfast but my copy,' he smirks pointedly at her, 'seems to have gone missing.'

'Oh,' she blushes, 'I wanted to be more informed, so that I don't bore you when I talk to you,' her cheeks flush a deep shade of pink, 'I thought if I read what you read, we could, well I mean I wanted to take an interest in, and it was, do you mind?'

'I don't mind at all, only you'd best tell me what you've read because I'm due to take your father into Ripon.' Branson smiles as she trips over her words, but suddenly her embarrassment is gone and she strides over to him, the seriousness expression back on her face as she hands him the paper, open at the page she'd just been reading inside.

'We have to record today, with profound regret and horror, another tale of blood into the annals of the ill-fated house of Hapsburg. The hand of the assassin has suddenly removed from the European stage one of the most striking of its royal personalities. Yesterday the Archduke Francis Ferdinand, heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary, and his wife the Duchess Hohenberg, who had been attending the manoeuvres is Bosnia-Herzegovina, were shot and mortally wounded while driving through the streets of Sarajevo.' Branson reads aloud gravely, 'Good god,'

'They were both killed,' Sybil looks at him with such sadness that he just wants to wrap her in his arms, protect her from all the bad in the world, and yet he knows that's not what she wants, she's strong and he respects her for that strength.

'This won't end here,' he looks at her with sincerity.

'What do you mean?'

'This won't be allowed to rest, more will come from his death, and none of it will be good.' He shakes his head not willing to say more, but Sybil can tell that something is bothering him.

'Tom?' She steps forward and tentatively places her hand over his, he looks at her and she's captivated by his eyes, unable to look away.

'It's hard to think of the bad in the world when you're,' Branson begins in barely more than a whisper.

'Branson?' Gwen walks into the garage and Sybil and Branson spring apart, Gwen looks between them but she hadn't seen her hand on his, or how close they'd been standing, she's just surprised that Lady Sybil is down here at all.

'Yes?' Branson clears his throat, shifting his gaze from Sybil to Gwen.

'Mr Carson asked me to remind you that his Lordship is waiting, you're to bring the car around.' Gwen replies trying to figure out what she'd just walked into.

'Of course,' Branson nods, pulling on his chauffer's jacket and quickly fastening the buttons.

Sybil looks at him quickly not wanting to end their conversation, but knowing she can't say anything in front of Gwen, she remains quiet and watches him leave.

3

Later that night Sybil pulls the pins out of her hair in frustration, tossing them onto the dressing table in front of her, and letting her hair cascade down her shoulders. She moves so fast that Gwen can't keep up.

'Is everything alright milady?' Gwen looks at Sybil as she frustrated starts pulling her fancy dress off, wanting nothing more than to rid herself of its constraints and get into bed.

'None of them understand me!' Sybil finally gets the dress off and starts work on the corset, moving about too erratically for Gwen to help. 'I try and talk about something serious and they don't want to know, they think I can't have reasonable opinions about anything!'

'Oh,' Gwen looks down unable to think of anything to say.

'Papa just tells me that the Archdukes assassination isn't appropriate dinner talk for a young lady, Edith tells me not to be so sombre, and Mary couldn't stop fighting with Matthew long enough to notice a word I said.' Sybil pulls on her nightgown and reaches for a piece of writing paper and a pen. She sits back down at her dressing table and starts to write furiously.

Branson,

I cannot stand being unable to talk, really talk, without being judged or frowned upon. Why is it that my family cannot accept me the way you do, they cannot see that I have opinions, I have a mind of my own and I want to use it. I wish I could come down and talk to you, but after the way I stormed out of dinner tonight Mary has been watching me like a hawk.

All day I've just wanted to talk to you but you've been so busy, and then Mary and Edith forced me to go into Ripon with them, so I couldn't even talk to you then. I just wanted you to know that I really wished today that I could talk to you. I know you'd understand, you always understand me, even when I don't even understand myself.

I'm not really saying anything of importance am I? I'm going to ask Gwen to give this to you, before I lose my nerve and tear it up.

I hope you don't mind me writing to you like this, I just needed to tell you how much I appreciate being your friend.

Sybil.

Sybil quickly folds the note over and slips it into an envelope, writing Tom on the envelope.

'Gwen, could I ask you to do something?'

'Of course milady.'

'Only you can't tell anyone and you can't ask me why.'

'You don't want to borrow my clothes again do you?' Gwen asks sceptically.

'Not this time,' Sybil smiles and holds out the letter, 'would you give with to T-I mean Branson?'

'Uh, well,'

'You can't ask me why remember.'

'Um I suppose I could.' Gwen takes the envelope and holds it carefully.

'Thank you.' Sybil smiles brightly, starting what will end up being a long exchange of letters.

A/N – as always reviews are appreciated. I love getting your feedback.