Timeline: Extended version of the lovely scene in 2x07.

Song: Kiss Me Slowly - Parachute

All he could concentrate on was the closeness of their hips, the way she moved against him as she reached up and thread a hand through his hair. They were still connected at the lips and had been for quite some time. Branson wanted to pull away, if only to remind himself that it was she that had recently said: "Yes, you can kiss me. But that is all until everything is settled." He didn't stop though, and just as he was over the thought, Sybil was nibbling at his bottom lip, an action that was only mollified as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, practically inviting him to do the same. He obliged, not needing much coaxing.

With her hand stroking the back of his neck still, Sybil allowed her other hand to drop down from his bent elbow to his back. Deliberately, she pulled the white starched material out of the bottom of his trousers.

"Sybil, we have to stop-"

"One more," she whispered, taking his lips against hers without thinking. Suddenly it seemed as if they had been doing this forever and just as quickly as she thought it, she wished she hadn't. This was always a possibility, but one that was denied because she was afraid. She was still afraid but it was easier now with him gripping her waist and pulling her close. If she was being honest with herself, and today she was, she wanted to sneak into his cottage. She didn't know what would happen, all of this was so new and exciting, but she imagined he'd continue to hold her the way he was. It was as if she had told him to never let her go and without thinking, he promised. Part of her understood that this promise was made years ago, a much larger part of the promise he made to himself that night all those years ago at the rally. "You taste good."

"Sybil…" It was his turn to mumble her name against her lips. She had done so only after they had begun to kiss, clearly feeling the need to remind herself that this was real and she was here, with him. They couldn't separate, not yet. This felt too good, too right. "Syb-"

She nipped at his lips. "Say it again?"

He laughed into her neck, dropping a kiss to her collarbone. "Your name? I'll say it a million times if it means you staying out here with me tonight." Sybil's face got serious and Tom stopped, realizing what he said. "No, just with me, just like this. I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize. I was only thinking if I could manage it," she quipped gently. Her palm found the smooth skin of his cheek and she felt him soften against her hand. He closed his eyes, wanting to rest like this forever. Could she have really managed to spend the night out here with him? "I don't know if I can…" She laughed now, moving so that they were both standing much in the way they were before this mess began.

With hands awkwardly at their sides, he stared at her. Her hair was mussed and her dress was wrinkled from the pressure of his hands running up and down her back. The gloves she had on her hands had been discarded on the hood of the Renault. He watched now as she picked them up and headed for the door.

Sybil turned to him, this boy she could now admit she was so in love with. "What if I just don't go back?" A sinister smirk played its way across her lips, causing Tom to wonder where this girl had been all along. She was a bird out of her cage, never to fly back in.

"I think your parents would be very upset."

Sybil stepped toward him. "And you, Mr. Branson?"

"I'd hope you didn't regret it but I'd secretly know you would." He was at her side again, feeling the pull of her body into his as soon as he stepped in stride with her. "Can I walk you back?"

She remembered, all those years ago how he had asked her the same thing. Here they were, in the exact same place and yet so far removed from who they were then. Or perhaps they were the same people, people who had finally allowed themselves to say these things they had felt all along. "I would like that very much," she paused, biting her lip. "But you have to promise you'll get back here without being seen."

Branson nodded, kissing her lips, sending them both into another fit that ended with her cheeks painted in a natural rouge as his hands itched in restraint. "Come to me tomorrow during dinner and we'll leave?"

Sybil nodded, suddenly so sure of where she was and where they were going. "I'll tell them I'm sick and head down immediately. God, I hope I can wait until then…"

Tom smirked. "I think you can manage."

"You think?," she teased back, immediately sending them both into a fit of smiles, their lips curving to return to their previous position pressed against one another. It settled down and she spoke, not wanting to break the silence in which they were saying so many things they had always wanted to. "Walk me, Tom."

They headed off toward the house, their footsteps pressed ever so lightly against the gravel below. Downton was illuminated in a way that seemed to invite and calm them. Tom wished he could do this all properly; walk to the door, kiss her cheek or maybe even her hand, and then send her off upstairs as he waited behind only to picture how she got in safely. Suddenly, he was sixteen again, taking a girl on a date he had waited months for. But he wasn't sixteen, and neither was she. Those days were long gone and Sybil was far more than any girl he had ever dated back in Dublin. Dropping her a few feet away from the door would have to do, he reminded himself, all the while agreeing she deserved much more.

"You're shaking," Sybil whispered. Desperately, she wanted to grab his hands, but even here, in shadows of the home that raised her, she knew better.

"S'alright," Tom mumbled.

"Are you nervous?" She asked. He nodded. "Don't be nervous. I'll be there."

"I'm asking you for a lot," he reminded. "It hadn't hit me until just now. I don't want you to regret any of this-"

She cut him off, a gloved hand pressed ever so gingerly to his cheek. Sybil allowed her hand to linger, hoping, if only for a second, that they would be found out. Somehow an action that was once so innocent had morphed into an intimate caress that sent her heart soaring. "I'll be there...I promise you. I've had my time to think about this...it's our time now."

"God, you're beautiful."

Sybil blushed, looking down. "I better go."

He only nodded, watching her go. She stopped at the door, turning back to him once more before disappearing inside. She didn't smile or wave. Sybil just walked away, knowing that to acknowledge his eyes upon her would be to run back to him and allow him one last kiss.

There were things left unsaid and as Sybil fell asleep that night she dreamed of Dublin. Based on what Tom had said it was a lovely place and she couldn't wait to arrive. She wasn't Irish and deep in the recesses of her mind she had to remind herself that it was very possible that she really would not be accepted. Still, Sybil imagined a happier version of herself there. Any place with Tom was better. It had to be. If meetings in the garage and small-talk on the way into town made her feel loved, she couldn't imagine the confidence she'd feel when he was finally able to call her his own.

"Mr. Branson?"

Tom's breathing stilled at the sound of Bates standing behind him. He was rubbing at the back of his neck now, a habit he had picked up during his teenage years. He was caught doing many things he was sure his mother didn't appreciate then but now, nearly ten years later, he felt that same age again. With it, he hoped for the innocence, but knew that deep down none of this could be explained away. "Bates, hello…"

"I didn't expect to see you out here sans vehicle…"

Tom looked down to the gravel. "Lady Sybil left a book and I brought it up to her and as I got here she was coming out-"

"For a book?"

"For a book."

"Right, well off you go."

"Right...goodnight, Bates." Tom hurried off down the path. He didn't want his movements to seem as rushed as they were but he needed the darkness of the night to give him space to breathe. He thought to Sybil, most likely up in her room now. He was a teenage boy when it came to her, and he was sure that if his mother saw him now she'd slap him right upside the head. But she wasn't and for that he was thankful. Even his thoughts were enough to make him blush.

~!~

Somewhere along the road she had begun to run. Her feet were no longer crunching along the tiny stones below but instead delivering crushing blows of rather loud proportions as her heels

stepped down then up in a cyclical motion. The faded white suitcase she carried in her left hand was pressed close to her body. Her other hand held her shawl close around her shoulders. It was chilly; the singular thought crossed her mind. If Sybil was being honest with herself she didn't think much since leaving Downton. She had grabbed a piece of fruit and a pastry from the kitchen and then headed off. She left through the backdoor, not wanting to alert her parents or any of the servants of her whereabouts. She had left a note, of course, a note that she hoped they wouldn't find for quite some time. All she wanted now was time. Time with Tom and their new life. Time where she was allowed to say "no" and "yes" and anything else she pleased.

At the door to the garage now, she saw that he was no longer in his livery but still wore the stuffy wool vest she had saw hung in his armoire a few days before. She wondered if he thought she'd expect him, still so prim and proper even as they were stealing his father's car to elope. Of course, she didn't. Sybil actually wondered what he'd look like in his pajamas every night before bed and then on the morning following when, fresh out of the bath, his hair wasn't slicked back but fringed and still wet.

"You came?" He breathed out, taking her in. She smiled, looking up to him as if she had just realized he was real.

With her arms around him, she touched a palm to his cheek. No longer were they separated by the satin gloves she so often wore. He was real and she was real and they were both standing in her father's garage at a little after six, ready to run away together.

"I told you I would." She kissed his lips, breathing in as she did so. She had never kissed a boy before Branson and she wondered if she was even doing this right. Of course she'd soon forget all of that in a way that a girl being kissed by a boy she loved only could.

He didn't seem to mind though. If anything, it was usually Branson who deepened the kiss, inviting more of her lips into his mouth. As he did now, he'd often nibble on her lower lip, eliciting a soft moan from her as he did so. Desperately he wanted to do more, to let his hand, resting on the small of her back, travel up and grab her cheeks. Not yet, he reminded himself as he came back down. Sparks floated between them as they pulled away, an all too apparent blush creeping across his fiance's face.

"I have doubted that you love me for the longest time but you're here and it's all so clear..."

Sybil stepped back. She smoothed the front of her skirt down needing something for her hands to do to keep from reaching out and holding him once again. Out of the silence, she spoke, but only after her suitcase was in the trunk of the Renault. "I love you." Another deep breath and then: "Is that what you want to hear?" She stepped into him again. "I'll say it a million times now. It's not worth living here in this house in these clothes with my family if I can't be honest about how I feel. I love you, Tom. I have for a very long time. It's important that you know that...I love you and I have loved you-"

She was cut off, his lips pressed against hers. Then when they detached, they were around her lips, on the bridge of her nose and then down to her chin and then to her neck where Sybil was positive if she hadn't stopped him she would have allowed him to go anywhere.

Sitting in the car now as they backed out and headed slowly down the driveway, Sybil was sitting up front thinking about all of the firsts she had encountered at Downton but how it was Tom that was the common denominator, not the castle she was leaving behind. She didn't bother to look back when they hit the gate. Instead, she snuggled closer into him, placing a kiss to his neck while he did the same to the top of her head.

I cannot thank you all enough for the lovely reviews I've been getting. The discussions I've had with some of you have made writing this completely worth it. I'm glad you're all enjoying something I originally wrote to get over my own misery.

x. Elle