Chapter Three:

It was very late when Jimmy and Alice left the saloon. They were both flushed and tired, but neither could suppress the smiles that kept stealing onto their faces.

"I didn't know you could dance so well," Jimmy said to Alice as he offered her his arm, which she took gladly.

"My sister wanted to learn how to dance, so she made me learn with her. I had to stop after only learning the Black Bottom, though, to come to Downton. But it is a terribly fun dance, I must admit."

"Yes, it is! I rather enjoyed trying it myself."

"And you!" Alice prodded. "With that fancy foxtrot of yours!"

Jimmy laughed.

"Would you teach me how to foxtrot?" she asked him. "I mean, properly? So I can do it as well as you?"

Jimmy caught up Alice's hands and pulled her to a stop. "Only on one condition. No, two."

"Okay."

"First, you teach me how to dance the Black Bottom as well as you."

Alice giggled. "Certainly." And she waited for him to say more, but Jimmy was suddenly mute. Her smile faded as he stared at her; and for some reason, just him looking at her like that, her heart began to race and her cheeks reddened. "What's the second condition?" she whispered.

"I want you to kiss me."

She wanted to say something to him, something clever and sarcastic, but nothing came immediately to mind. Jimmy wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in close, and bent his head to kiss her.

"You know," Alice said, turning a little away from him, "I thought you wanted me to kiss you."

Jimmy frowned slightly, puzzled. "I do."

"But you just tried to kiss me." And before he could respond, she pressed her lips against his. "There, that's better."

A dumb look alighted on Jimmy's face. Alice had to laugh, because it wasn't often that Jimmy looked silly. Usually, he tried to seem calm and cool. She often thought he was trying to mimic Mr Barrow, the under-butler, who always seemed so unruffled – even in spite of the cuts on his face. But Alice could never imagine the look she was seeing on Jimmy on Mr Barrow's face.

"Oh Alice!"

"Shush. Don't say anything." She took Jimmy's hand and drew him after her as she started walking again. "Now come on, before they fetch the police after us. It'll be midnight soon!"

It was after eleven-thirty when they finally reached Downton. The house was nearly silent, except for the muffled rustling of a handful of maids going about their nightly cleaning.

Alice and Jimmy crept in quietly, giggling softly and lacing fingers. Alice said goodnight to Jimmy at the door to the virgin's wing–giving him a quick peck on the cheek–and went to her room. Jimmy was too giddy to even contemplate sleep, so he went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of milk and reflect upon the evening.

As he finished his milk, he noticed the light in the servant's hall was on. He left his glass on the counter and went to go turn it off – and was surprised to see Thomas seated at the table, a cup of tea placed before him, long gone cold. Thomas didn't look up. He didn't even seem to notice Jimmy there at all, standing in the doorway.

"Mr Barrow," Jimmy said gently.

Thomas jumped up, startled; but once he saw it was Jimmy, he chuckled in an embarrassed way and sat back down. "Jimmy. I didn't hear you come in."

Jimmy went in and pulled out a chair, seating himself opposite Thomas. "What are you still doing up? You should be in bed."

Thomas cradled his face in his hands, his elbows propped up on the table and, and roughly rubbed his eyes. "I can't seem to sleep anyways, so it hardly matters when I go to bed." He lowered his hands and looked at Jimmy through dark eyelashes, and Jimmy was able to see how bloodshot his eyes were, how black the circles underneath. "You're late, by the way. How was your evening with Alice?"

Unabashedly, Jimmy grinned, a dazzling grin. Thomas flinched and glanced away, but Jimmy saw nothing but Alice's pretty face.

"It was brilliant! We went to the pub to grab a drink. We were going to see a film, you see, but it was too early, so we decided to stop for a drink first. Well, when we finished, we were making our way to the film, but then we heard someone playing a jazzy little piano number in a saloon down the road; and the next thing I know, Alice is grabbing at my hands and pulling me inside and on to the floor to dance! We didn't even make it to the film, we were having such a good time."

Thomas toyed with his tea cup while Jimmy talked, spinning it around in its saucer, making the brown liquid ripple. It seemed a little like how he had been feeling lately – unsettled.

"By the way," Jimmy said after they had both been silent for some time, rapping a knuckle on the table in front of Thomas to draw his attention, "Mr Carson told me everything. When I asked him for the time off, he said that you had already sorted it out with him. Why didn't you tell me?"

Thomas was staring vacantly, silent except for his slow, soft breathing.

Jimmy sighed in exasperation. "Are you even listening to me, Mr Barrow?"

Thomas twitched at the sound of his name and shook himself, very like as if he had been dozing and then abruptly awakened. "I'm sorry, what did you say, Jimmy?"

"Mr Barrow, what's the matter with you? You aren't well at all."

It's all your fault. With those eyes and lips, and that body. That smile.

No. That isn't fair.

"I'm tired. That is all."

It's mine. I'm weak. So very, very weak. And tired, yes.

"Exhausted is more like. Come on, Mr Barrow. It's time for bed."

Thomas waved Jimmy away and pulled a packet of cigarettes from inside his jacket, fingers mindlessly sliding it open and retrieving a single cigarette before slipping the packet back into its pocket. He lit a match and held it up, his hands unsteady and trembling.

"You go on," Thomas mumbled around his lit cigarette. "I'll go up in a few minutes."

Jimmy sat for a little while, but when he understood that Thomas wasn't going to leave for some time still, he pushed back his chair and stood.

"You'd tell me if something were wrong. If there was something I could do to help."

Thomas looked up at him and took the cigarette from his lips. "Of course, Jimmy."

Unsatisfied, but unwilling to push Thomas further, Jimmy left, his footsteps light so as to not wake anyone.

It was nearly an hour after he left that Thomas followed suit. His arms shook as he pushed himself up, and his legs quivered and strained with every step he took. He didn't know how much longer this could go on. He desperately needed sleep. Just one night of absolute, uninterrupted sleep.

He made it to his room and collapsed onto his bed, not even bothering to remove his uniform. It was nights like these that he was very glad he no longer had to share a room with any of the other servants. He closed his eyes, and dozed. But the memories waited; they never let him be for very long.

Brown eyes and brown hair. Blue eyes and brown hair. Gone, all gone, all of them.

Blue eyes and blonde hair.

You don't deserve him. You don't deserve anyone.

Blood.