A/N: Some readers told me they never received the alert for the last chapter so you may want to go back and make sure you read that before reading this.

Timeline: In between 3x01 and 3x03 when Tom and Sybil are back in Dublin.

Song: Dead Hearts - Stars

Dublin invited them back in the way that only a late spring day could. The city was quiet with people observing the Sabbath. While the rest of the Branson family went to their parents' house for their usual Sunday brunch, Tom followed Sybil through the park as she dragged him to a place that seemed more familiar to her than to him. This was his hometown but it was soon becoming hers as well. The ache she felt back at Downton had subsided to a dull murmur, only to rear it's head when she spent her days at home alone waiting for Tom to return from work.

"Where are we going again?"

"Somewhere I've been meaning to bring you for a long time," she began, smiling over at him.

They held hands, with Sybil walking close to Tom as they hit the end of the park leading them out onto the other side of town. "When we were at Downton I was reminded that this needed to be done."

"Am I being punished?"

Sybil smirked. "Hardly," she whispered. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do." Tom squeezed his wife's hand, causing her to rest her head on his shoulder. He looked down, staring at their feet then at the swell of her tummy. It grew everyday as the pregnancy began to near its end. Tom had never seen her look more radiant and beautiful and he took every opportunity to tell her so with a kiss to the cheek or a whisper in her ear.

She'd smile, knowing she cherished such things just as much as she needed them. Pregnancy had been kind, but like all women, she was beginning to think the changes to her body, the clothing she wore, and her sometimes short temper would push him away. Each night, when Tom pulled her close and spoke to her stomach and then captured her lips she was reminded that such a thing was perfect to him and desirable.

They arrived. Tom stopped, not wanting to go further. Sybil looked to him, letting go of his hand so she could stand in front of him and capture his eyes. "Tom…"

"I don't know why we're here," he whispered, staring ahead at the iron fence blocking rows and rows of tombstones. He knew this place well, though he recognized the guilt building in a slow burn in his head more than the feeling of attending funerals as a young boy. Part of him felt guilty, wondering how much he had missed since leaving for Downton. He knew the answer: he had missed far more than he was willing to admit aloud. "Sybil, I can't…"

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. When she pulled away, her mouth rested near his ear, whispering exactly what he needed to here. "You can and you must. I'm right here," she practically sang, her voice mimicking the echo of the wind swirling around them in a slow dance. "We're going to do this together, alright?"

Tom nodded. He grabbed for his hand while she did the same, their limbs meeting in the middle as they opened the gate and walked inside. Soon, it was Tom leading the way, to a back section where his family's plot rested.

He turned to her, as if to run away, but he remained, still and stoic. "Go on," she whispered, nudging him toward the tombstone he was drawn to. It read the name of his cousin, and suddenly she was back at Downton hearing him recount the events of 1916 when so many of his people were taken at the hands of her country. Below the name and the dates close in proximity (a fact that sent chills up Sybil's spine), a simple saying: Ardú gan titim.

Sybil was behind Tom now, resting her head on his shoulder. Her hand sought him out, holding onto his fingers with care. "What does it mean?"

"It's a saying from the Rising," he began. She felt him breathe in deeply and though she could not see it, she could imagine a single tear rolling down his frozen cheeks. "It's a piece of advice, to rise without falling…"

"Oh, Tom," Sybil began, holding him from behind. She wished she was bigger, to be able to hold him the way he held her so many times before but for Tom it was enough to feel the warmth of her body pressed into his backside.

"I don't want to be here," he murmured, wiping away another tear. "This place makes me angry." He turned around to face her. "I'm so angry, Syb-"

She cut him off, pulling him into her. It was her turn to be strong, to hold him against her as he cried into her chest. "Shh, love," she said, doing her best to calm him down.

His body was wracked with sobs, shaking into Sybil's petite frame. It made her love him more than she already had. His willingness to give everything to her, even the emotions he was afraid to speak of, made her heart swell. There was compassion here and a bit of weariness too. Sybil knew this was necessary, but she didn't expect the pain, so soft at first then building into a deep rage. It continued, staining a watermark into the top of her gown.

When she brought him here she had little intention of seeing him like this, but part of her was glad to be the one to bring him through all of it. After seeing the way he reacted back at Downton, Sybil understood how many things were left unsaid as emotions were tucked away and left to settle on their own. It broke her heart to see him like this, crying into her shoulder and using her for comfort when it was usually him doing the same for her. Still, there was a cleansing process she was witnessing that came with a deep breath that echoed as his lungs relaxed.

"Tom, it's okay…"

"It's not okay, Sybil!" Tom shouted. He did not calm down the way he usually did after realizing his folly. He only continued on. "He was one of my closest friends. We grew up together. I should have come back. I should have fought…"

"If you had fought you'd be dead, Tom." Her voice was stern now. It warned of details both of them knew to be all too true. Sybil stepped into him, grabbing for his hands. "Tom, I love you and I know this is hard and I brought you here because you need to acknowledge all of it." She breathed out, her shoulders releasing some of the weight they held. "It's okay to be angry and it's okay to cry."

"Is it okay? I don't feel like any of this is okay, Sybil," he emphasized. There were a million other words to describe how uncomfortable he was. His lack of "okay" spoke all of them.

"Of course it's not," she said, resigning. "But I'm here for you and you need to do this. You can't let this dictate your life."

"Dictate my life?" He spat. Sybil's eyes widened at the sound of her husband raising his voice. Tom softened, reaching up to stroke her cheek. There it was, she thought. "I'm sorry, love," he began. "But it does dictate my life. This is my home and these are my people and I am so sick of living in a world where that can't be realized."

"Ireland's time will come," she said confidently. "I'm absolutely sure of it."

Tom's eyes were no longer watering. He smiled, loving her optimism and the way she never let him get away with too much. He loved how she believed the words she said; it was comfort to him, like his favorite song or the sound of her voice in the morning. "Do you mind if I say a prayer?"

Sybil didn't respond. Instead, she kneeled down. It elicited a smile from his lips as he joined her. They said a prayer. In one hand, Tom held his rosary from church while the other was latched onto Sybil, resting in her lap. She watched him hold back tears and whisper ten of the Lord's prayer's before moving on to a simple Hail Mary. She was proud of herself for remembering the ritual, her eyes set upon his fingers stroking the black beads. When he finished, they sat in silence, staring at the tombstone in front of them and the others that surrounded it.

The ground was cold but her body was warm, pressed against him as he applied the same pressure to her. More tears came as the wind danced around them, inviting the night to take over for day. It seemed like minutes but they sat there for hours, with Tom discussing other things, aside from his cousin's death, that had occurred while he was at Downton. As best as she could, Sybil listened, encouraging his words knowing they helped just as much as they hurt. They laughed a bit, and cried some more and when it was time to leave, they helped each other to stand before walking home.

~!~

"Sybil! Sybil, I know you're in there…" She didn't move, but continued to listen, as a voice she was afraid to admit she was familiar with rapped at the door. "Sybil! Tom sent me…" The voice began, urging Sybil to get up from the bed and walk to the front door. She was apprehensive, and growing more fearful as the moments passed. A name that was supposed to comfort her suddenly made her taste blood as she bit down on her tongue. She had thrown up twice already today since returning home from the job interview she had attended. On the counter was a rather ominous note left by her husband. The same man that was supposed to be her best friend had abandoned her, and yet she craved him, needing him by her side when her mind screamed at her to be angry and to give him up just as he had done to her.

Reminding herself that this was all so temporary, Sybil wrapped her sweater around her body as she reached the door. She looked through the peephole to the woman standing on the other side. Bridget was fidgeting, holding her purse close to her body as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She rolled her eyes, causing Sybil to do the same. In the state she was in, she was not yet ready to deal with the girl on the other side of the door.

"Hi," Sybil whispered, taking Bridget in.

"Have you packed yet?" Bridget asked, pushing past Sybil into the flat. She stopped, taking a look around the rather tidy apartment. A book she had guessed Sybil was reading laid open on it's spine on the counter. A kettle was beginning to boil on the stove, signaling that Sybil was doing her best to calm herself down with Tom gone.

"The boat leaves in an hour," Bridget began. "I told Tom I'd sit with you. I have to go to Liverpool to visit a friend…" she explained.

"Is this a joke?"

Bridget smiled, feeling the same animosity she often received from other girls. "No, this isn't a joke. I'm doing Tom a favor. And…" she started, her voice hesitant. She breathed out, gathering the composure and pride to continue. "I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved at the fair. I just like getting a rise out of people, I suppose."

"It's fine." Sybil muttered. She was staring at the ground now. She wondered where Tom was and hoped to God he was safe. She hoped such a thing almost as much as she selfishly wished for him to be back here with her, holding her tight as he assured her it would all be back to normal shortly. She doubted the latter, knowing that the two of them would have to go before they could ever come back.

"It's not okay. Tom's a good man, Sybil-"

"I don't need you to tell me what my husband is and isn't." Sybil stopped herself, suddenly feeling guilty for reacting in such a manner. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"How's the baby?"

Sybil smirked, knowing what Bridget was getting at. She was right too; her hormones were raging lately and regardless of where Tom was, there were very few words in the world that didn't set her off, and even fewer existed to calm her down.

"Fine." She felt bad again. "Good," she added.

"Listen," Bridget started. "I know we got off on the wrong foot but I really am trying to help you here. I promised Tom I would get you to Liverpool and I'm keeping my promise…"

"I appreciate that."

A silence settled over the two girls. There was not much for them to say, but the lack of sentiment made them both realize how much they had in common. While Sybil packed her suitcase, Bridget walked around their room, admiring the pictures on the walls and the gowns that hung in Sybil's closet. "Are you really a Lady?"

Sybil chuckled. "I used to be," she smirked.

"You still are."

"Thank you?" Sybil said, almost as if to ask a question. "I don't feel connected to that world anymore. I love my life here. I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Was it hard to leave?"

"I love Tom," Sybil stated. It was such an easy thing to proclaim. "It was for a really long time but then it was the easiest thing in the world. I'm sure it seems silly, really…"

"It only seems silly because I can't imagine leaving a big house to come live in Dublin."

"It's lovely here," Sybil tried to explain away.

"Did you really have a governess?"

Sybil nodded, smiling as she placed the pants Tom had bought her for her birthday in the bottom of her suitcase. "I did," she beamed. "I hated her though. She was old and really not good for much. She got me in trouble and never let me play."

"Play? Isn't that all there is to do when your parents own the county?"

"When I was eight, I freed the horses from the stable because I thought they weren't being cared for properly."

Bridget was sitting on the bench to Sybil's small vanity. Heartily she laughed, picturing a much younger Sybil fighting what could only seem like a revolution to such a small child. "You and Tom are perfect for one another."

Sybil couldn't help but smile. "He's my best friend." She paused. "When did you talk to him again?"

Bridget smiled. "I wasn't in love with him. And he was never in love with me," she explained. "His mother saw me at the market last night after he left. He told her to contact me because he knew I traveled into Liverpool around this time each month. I don't mind really…"

"Well thank you," Sybil began. "I appreciate the company."

Sybil continued to pack, managing to fill her suitcase as well as one of Tom's old bags. She grabbed him an extra shirt and pair of trousers, as well as the throw from the back of the couch.

Looking around the apartment, she wondered when she'd be back. Tom had said little of what has occurred or where he was going but she felt him, traveling by himself back to a place she once called home. She felt lonely for him, her bones aching to know he was alright. She hoped they would welcome him, but soon she thought better of such a notion, knowing that regardless of what happened that he would never be accepted. He had left her alone and her father would never allow himself to see anything else. Sybil feared for him and the wrath he was undoubtedly receiving in her honor.

At the door now, carrying her suitcase and Tom's old leather bag, Sybil locked the door, bolting the wood in place. She breathed out, suddenly missing the confines of her small flat as she stuffed her keys down into the bottom of her handbag. There were memories here, memories she wished she could store in her already too full suitcase.

The two girls walked to the docks, doing their best to avoid those around them. Early morning Dublin provided for crowded city streets and people on their way to work with some just returning home. Bridget did her best to look down, avoiding the people she knew. To start a conversation or even look their way would be to answer questions they had no business of asking.

The Branson's were a prominent family and Sybil had been told that news of Tom's activity with the IRA was spreading like wildfire throughout the city. She wondered if they were talking about her too, the Irish feeling bad for the poor English girl whose husband had acted contrary to the country where they had met.

"Do I have time to make a call?"

Bridget looked at her pocket watch. She nodded. "Just be careful," she warned, unsure of who was watching or listening as the two girls waited for their boat to dock.

Sybil nodded, excusing herself to enter the lobby of the dock office. She dialed, waiting for what seemed like an eternity for someone to pick up. On the other line, Edith answered. She was just as confused by the words her sister spoke as Sybil was speaking them. She was still so unsure, her body shaking as the child inside of her rolled and turned in anticipation. The last time Sybil had been on a boat, she was without child and with Tom, sharing a small meal together as they relinquished in their time alone. Her heart dropped, needing him here. Again, she saw him, just as scared as she was, running from something she hoped he had no control over. She wanted to hate him; she felt abandoned and alone. As she hung up the phone, her heart dropped, hoping that such a burning in her heart would soon subside when she and Bridget reached Liverpool. She felt such things because the world told her to, not because any of it was what her heart believed.

"Do you want some change to make a call?" Sybil asked.

Bridget shook her head. "I'm not taking your money."

"I don't mind. You're doing me a favor," she reminded. "It's the least I can do."

Bridget denied her offer once more. "Our boat is here," she stated simply.

The ride was slow at first and the ship was dark. The waiting room of the boat was dim, emphasizing how few people rode the first ride out to Liverpool each morning. The girls were silent, filling only necessary moments with small talk. Sybil told Bridget how her and Tom fell in love, and Bridget rather enjoyed the story, finding strength behind what the younger girl shared.

"Tom's a good guy, Sybil. I don't know what he did but I know how hard it's been in Ireland for the past few years. I can't imagine being him and not being here for it." She breathed out, figuring out where to go from here. "I don't know the relationship you have or the person you two were before you met but I know he loves you. Anyone can see that," she reasoned. "Just let him explain and try to be forgiving. He's a good man and I'm sure whatever he did was not meant to hurt you."

"I know that." It was never something she doubted.

Bridget breathed out. "Good…"

"Can I ask you something?"

Bridget nodded, suddenly feeling a certain anticipation for such an inquiry. "Of course," she responded, smiling.

"Are you expecting?"

Bridget smirked. "I am...how did you know?"

"You've touched your stomach a lot since leaving the flat. And I was a nurse during the war. I just got a sense that-"

"We were supposed to get married. He's living in Liverpool now because that's where he can work. It's all so unstable. I don't even know if he loves me anymore," she said, stroking her stomach much in the way Sybil had referred to before.

"I'm sure he does."

"We're not all as lucky as you are," Bridget reminded. Her voice lacked a tinge of jealousy in the way that Sybil was expecting. "I hope he does, though. At least he's working…" she reminded, her voice trailing off. Sybil heard it, realizing that the things that were important to her and Tom were not always what was important to the rest of the people their age. They lived off of love, often in a way that she now saw to be unrealistic.

Bridget and Sybil shared a muffin and Sybil insisted she buy their tea. The two girls sipped at the contents of their glass mugs, thanking the man that brought them their meal for being so quick. They sipped and sipped, doing their best to savor the warm beverage and the silence it allowed for. Neither had much to say, or at least anything the other wanted to hear. Still, they felt a bond, one that lasted even throughout the awkward pauses on the boat ride to England.

When they docked, the two girls hurried off the boat, grabbing their bags from their place underneath the bench they occupied so they could be some of the first to hit the docks. Without thinking, Sybil pulled Bridget in for a hug, doing her best to thank the girl without using words they were both not ready to hear. "Travel safe," she managed. It sounded something like: "Thank you for everything" or "I wish you all the best".

"You too," Bridget smiled, returning the hug.

The two girls departed. Sybil wanted to allow herself to feel alone, but she felt better of it. Instead, she felt nothing at all. Her body grew numb as the baby kicked. It was the first time she felt the sensation and she regretted such a notion, wishing Tom was here to feel it too. As she hailed a taxi, she thought of him, hoping he was at Downton safe and sound. If her heart wasn't so heavy she would have wished the same for herself.

As the driver began to drive her toward the train station, a tear rolled down her cheek, confirming all she was too afraid to admit to feeling. The same pain was evident on her cheeks as a different drive brought her to the outer gates of Downton. A place she used to call home seemed so foreign. The tug she felt, bringing her up the gravel path toward the large wooden doors, was evident because of the man inside, the man that she loved so dearly. The same man that abandoned her and their child, leaving her feeling so very alone. As she opened the doors to her childhood home, she felt it, even as she saw him running toward her. The loneliness she felt was no longer attributed to him, but the doubt she felt being back in a place that she had left alone. His lips hungrily tasting her told her everything she needed to know: about how they had badgered him and blamed him for her late arrival. She wasn't alone now though. Pulling away only to rest her head on his shoulder, Sybil doubted he would ever allow her to feel that way again.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Now for honesty hour: I have lost my touch a bit with this fic. Not in this chapter, and certainly not in the one that follows (because it is one of my favorites I have ever written-that of which, I have no problem saying) but it has happened nonetheless. It's not beta-ed and it hasn't been, but as I get closer to the end (there's about 13 chapters left after this one) I'm noticing it's not been as easy for me to write as the earlier chapters were and I'm getting sloppy. There are also a lot of other really amazing fics on this site that are dealing with similar plotlines and are written far better than my own. And that's fine! I'm honored to be surrounded by such talented writers. This also comes at a time where I have started really spending a lot of time with my new fic to get that ready for posting. And that fic is my pride and joy.

But this used to be something I was proud of too, so I just need the time to edit it and rip it apart before piecing it back together again. For those of you who have been reading this since the beginning (love you guys!), you deserve the awesome ending I have planned.

That being said, be patient with me posting for this fic. I have the next 6 chapters written and edited but I still might be slow with them until my confidence as a writer comes back.

And it will. It always does.

OH! And go read Beautiful Collisions if you have yet to do so! Link is on my profile page!

:]

x. Elle